Some of you maybe know that my husband and I have been trying to have a baby for the past two years. The road was long and winding. The preparation, the hormone therapy, the never-ending doctor visits, the food restrictions, the emotional baggage, the burdening society, the failed inseminations, and of course, the 'try again' phrase that seems endless. But apparently, the story keeps going.
In early 2020 covid-19 arrived in this country. People were required to stay at home, and these days we couldn't see our doctor (clearly, the hospitals were the dangerous zone). One day I realized that my menstruation had missed its schedule, and after three days, I jokingly tried to use the pregnancy test I had. It showed two lines.
Unsure of the result, I asked my husband to run to the drugstore to buy three other brands. I tested myself again. Two lines. In all of them. I'm positive. I was pregnant. Puzzled by this miraculous result (knowing we had stopped our treatment because of the inability to visit my doctor due to covid-19), we braced ourselves to get out of the house and enter the war zone, which was the hospital so that my doctor could see and maybe confirm what's stated on the test packs.
(Once in my life, stuff like this happened)
I went, the doctor looked into it, and he confirmed. I was 5 weeks pregnant.
By that time, we couldn't see anything just yet. The embryo sack was hidden. My doctor suggested I return the next week, and in the meantime, he treated me with vitamins.
Next week we came again. This time around, we saw the embryo sac but haven't seen the embryo itself. My doctor seemed unsure, but he suggested I return the following week.
We came again by the—what was supposed to be—the 7th week. The sack got bigger, yet the embryo that was supposed to be seen (or heard) was not. My doctor furrowed his eyebrow, but he knew how long this journey to have a baby for me and my husband has been, so he said we'll take another look next week.
On the 8th week, I returned to see the doctor, and the scan on the embryo sack got even more significant. By now, the primary embryo should have been more than 1 cm, and the heartbeat should have been noticed two weeks ago, but nothing. It's just a growing sack with no embryo in it.
That day my doctor said 'sorry' a million times. He introduced us to the term 'blighted ovum' and told us carefully that even though the embryo sack was growing, there was no embryo in it. It's an empty sack. It's like an egg with no yolk.
That day he gave us options: wait until my body processed the false pregnancy that'd lead to natural miscarriage or speed the process a bit by consuming a drug that later will be assisted with curettage.
We picked the second option.
It was devastating enough to know that the hint of hope we had was just a false alarm; we didn't want to be tortured even longer by the pregnancy effect that took place. Like most pregnant women, I was nauseated, I felt lethargic, I became very sensitive to smell, and so on and so forth... the different only pregnant women usually carry their embryos, and I didn't.
We thought the drug would help the miscarriage faster, but no. Three weeks after my first encounter with the drug, I was still "pregnant"; the thing just would not fall off my uterus. My doctor was worried about my health because the longer this embryo sack stayed in me, the more likely it would poison me (it's a dead 'thing' in my living body, so obviously, it's a threat), so he suggested having the curettage.
Now during normal circumstances, having a curettage procedure done is quick. During covid-19 time, however, was not. I must do a PCR test to ensure I'm negative for covid. The test cost 2.5 million Rupiah. And guess what? I tested positive!
Yes, there was a time in my life when I was positive for covid-19. At the time, I was not panicking at all. Maybe because I didn't have any symptoms, or maybe because I've been too tired to be entertained by God's weird sense of humour. Anyway, my doctor called me to deliver the bad news. He prescribed me more vitamins and demanded I retake the test in three days. That's another 2.5 million Rupiah, folks!
Thankfully, on the second test, my result came back negative. So my doctor scheduled me for the curettage procedure in the next week (the week after Idul Adha)
The night my result returned positive was the night of Idul Adha, I was staying in my parent's home in Bogor. Everything went well until I felt this excruciating cramp in my tummy, the kind I usually get during periods, only a million times more painful. It was late, and I wasn't sure what to do, so I just stayed in the bathroom and followed what my body asked me to do—to get the pain out. I had never encountered such pain before; my whole body was trembling, I cried in silence because I didn't want to wake anyone, and my shirt was wet because of the sweat. To my surprise, I "gave birth" to the empty sack this night.
Though most of the sack came out, my family and I were worried about what was still left inside. Because unclean 'miscarriage' could lead to a whole new problem in the future. So I went to the curettage as scheduled. It was a quick procedure that lasted less than two hours. During my previous operation, I had my husband next to me soon as I woke up. This time I didn't; the covid protocol didn't allow anyone to come with me—unless he had PCR test that showed he was negative (meaning another pointless 2.5 million Rupiah), so he chose to just wait in the car while I was in the operating and recovery room. Thankfully we returned to our home that very day after I gained full consciousness, and I could sleep in my comfortable bed that night.
That's the end of my false pregnancy story. It lasted for only 9 weeks. I thought a miracle was there for a while, but reality proved me otherwise.
I thought I'd be bitter. I thought I'd be devastated. But truthfully, I'm relieved. I didn't cheer joyfully when I saw the two lines on my test pack. My husband and I didn't even hug each other. We were stunned. Both of us just thought it was too good to be true, and somehow, in the back of our heads, we expected a plot twist. We got that plot twist, indeed. Another reason I was relieved was that I realized maybe it was not what I really needed in my life. During the 9 weeks, I hated to admit that I was too scared, weak, and ignorant to handle such a gift. God knew this far before I figured this out. So instead of being mad at Him, I'm grateful. He gave me a "sneak peek" into what I thought I wanted but did His own plot twist to save me from having an encounter with something I wasn't ready for just yet.
I thought that was all that I felt. But no. It Turned out this experience traumatized me. I am relieved yet burdened. Because I know I let people down. I know for sure I have been a massive disappointment to my wishful family. Having a trauma about something that raises hope in your loved ones is tricky. Because you try to avoid the trauma for your own sanity, but you can't bear to be another disappointment to those who never stopped supporting you.
The inability to escape this place lies in the resistance to letting go of what I thought I wanted. If I don't occupy myself with work, memories will bring me back to those days when I thought I got what I had been waiting for.
I remember the cheerful smile on my father's face. I will not forget how he reluctantly drove a bit further that day so that I could get the porridge I craved for. I remember my mother teared up when I delivered the news. I still kept the care package she bought me just so I could be more relaxed. And I remember that scared yet hopeful look in my husband's eyes. For a few weeks, he got around to buying me food I could digest while my body refused the home-cooked meal. Now, every time I see porridge or sniff the scent of that shampoo my mom bought me or think of wanting to eat that snack I ate while I thought I was pregnant, I'm sad. These things draw a hint of pain in my heart and remind me of the few weeks of a miracle when I wasn't such a disappointment to them.
After a while, I thought I had made peace with this, but it turned out I hadn't. I was just good at hiding from it. I avoided it, scraped this away from my daily topic, stacked it in the back of my mind, and pretended everything was fine. Until it was not okay anymore. Weeks after that miscarriage, I fell into the unseen trap and encountered this silent beast lurking beneath the surface; depression.
It was hell.
Even more hellish because I didn't want to say it out loud. Many students of mine quickly stated they were depressed because of the homework, and my stupid dignity forbade me from falling into that lame teenager's cry of the famous 'depression'. So I was in denial over this particular stage of grief until I can no longer deny it. Luckily I acted quickly. I met a therapist—which finally gave me the 'chronic depression' diagnosis—and I tried to deal with this depression by acknowledging it and then treating it slowly with daily therapy sessions that I do at home. I feel better now, so I assumed the therapy works.
Usually, I transferred all these insecurities into writing. But the damage in my broken heart was too severe, the trauma cut too deep, and I couldn't function as my usual self for a few weeks; that's why I didn't write for almost three weeks. I wanted to write but couldn't get up and force myself to do it. I was just this helpless lump of disappointment that couldn't do anything—for weeks, I just laid in my bed, sometimes crying and sometimes just chugging down pills to keep me asleep, not knowing what to do instead of just falling asleep and escaping reality.
I wasn't proud of what happened, but it was the process I needed to grow. And this post is the last step I have to write for closure. Some of you were kind enough to check on me when I rested a while from writing, and I thank you all for that kind attention. I wasn't well, I'm not healed yet, but I am better now.
I wrote this for myself (as a reminder of what kind of drama I thought I couldn't get through—and a reminder that I was strong enough to battle it through and through) and for any other kind of people that cared enough to scroll this far. For you who read this sentence, I thank you. Maybe we don't know each other in real life, but somehow we met through this medium, and I'm thankful for that. I hope by writing this, I will have closure to what happened in my life. If it's not, I wish this was a baby step I had to go through for a better recovery. I just want to be happy with what I have. Well, I am fairly happy with what I have, I'm just not sure my family is happy with this, so now I hope they can be happy for me and will still love me despite the painful memory I caused that has left scars in their hearts.
edit:
I've completed my infertility story and compiled them all into "inconvenient truth" titles. Click on these pictures for easier access to read them all.
Kali ini saya mau cerita tentang duka saya sebagai seorang wanita dalam versi Bahasa Indonesia dan mungkin dalam versi yang lebih kronologikal dan detail. Kenapa kok saya mau-mau aja berbagi masalah personal di platform yang bisa dibaca bebas sama semua orang? Pertama karena yang baca lapak diary saya dikit dan hanya yang "deket" sama saya aja yang mau meluangkan waltu untuk baca. Kedua, karena saya tahu di luar sana ada wanita lain yang merasakaninsecurityserupa dengan saya dan bahasan yang saya angkat ini masih suka terhitung "tabu" buat dibahas. Well, mungkin bukan tabu sih, tapi tidak etis dan tidak nyaman dibicarakan bersama khalayak luas dengan berbagai alasan yang bisa dipahami sepenuhnya.
Apalagi topiknya kalau bukan masalah infertility, hahaha... Iya, sekarang saya sudah bisa menambah 'haha' di belakang kata itu, karena setelah bertahun-tahun akhirnya saya sudah belajar menerima bahwa infertility akan menjadi bagian dari hidup saya, bahwa masalah itu bukan lagi satu hal yang harus saya sembunyikan, bukan satu hal yang bisa saya tutupi terus-menerus, dan semakin lama saya bersembunyi, hal itu hanya akan menjadi beban batin.
Saya cerita dari awal saja ya gimana? Kisah ini kayaknya tidak akan selesai dalam sekali posting sih, karena ini cerita tentang proses penerimaan kekurangan saya, jadi meskipun saya sudah belajar menerima, bohong saja kalau saya tidak merasa emosional (dan sedih) membahasnya. Tapi ini bagian dari perjalanan hidup saya, bagian dari cara penyembuhan saya, dan langkah yang bisa saya ambil untuk belajar mencintai diri saya sendiri...so here goes...
Sejak muda saya terhitung bandel. Orang yang tahu masa muda saya sebandel apa biasanya langsung menghubungkan infertilitas saya dengan itu. Kata-kata macem: lo tukang minum sih! Lo ngerokok sih dulu! Makanya jangan begadang! Lo jadi cewe begajulan banget sih, karma kan! Dan lain sebagainya... mungkin reader yang baca paragraf sebelum ini juga sudah ngebatin salah satu kalimat yang saya sebutkan. Lalu bagaimana perasaan saya denger komentar macem itu? Senyumin aja, sis! Prinsip saya "nyesel itu gak guna!" Ya memang masa muda saya begajulan, apa yang penting bagi saya adalah kenyataan bahwa saya sudah merubah gaya hidup itu 180 derajat. Saya menghindari hal-hal buruk itu sekarang, dan percayalah saya tidak pernah menyesal. Untuk apa nyesel? Udah dikerjain kok! Emang nyesel terus nangis-nagis bikin nasib berubah gitu? Kan enggak. Itu salah saya dan saya seorang wanita dewasa yang harus menerima konsekuensi dari kelakuan saya, jadi saya sih ambil hikmahnya aja...
Dengan semua sejarah saya di masa muda, tentu saja saya sadar bahwa tubuh saya punya limit dan saya harus berhenti dari semua kebiasaan buruk itu, satu hal yang pelan-pelan saya kurangi setelah lulus dan alhamdulillah saya sudah berhenti merokok selama 5 tahun, minum-minum alkohol 40% sudah stop total walaupun occational wine & beer masih saya nikmati itu juga kalau diizinin suami doang berani minum (soalnya saya males ribut), saya bertransformasi dari night owl menjadi morning person, dosis kopi saya batesin sehari segelas (kecuali butuh kafein banget), dan sekarang kalau saya mau ngelakuin kerjaan berat pasti minta tolong sama siapa pun yang avaiable.
Nah, itu latar belakang saya dari sisi kesehatan jasmani. Saya tidak akan bahas kesehatan rohani saya karena itu urusan saya pribadi dan kebetulan rohani saya memang nggak sehat hahaha... jadi daripada debat panjang kan mending gak usah dibahas.
Berbekal latar belakang yang juga diketahui jelas oleh pacar saya (sekarang suami), saya menikah pada Agustus 2015. Saat itu kami berdua memang belum berniat buru-buru mau punya anak. Begini, saya tahu banyak orang bilang anak=rezeki (nggak usah ngajarin ayat Quran atau Hadist atau apapun hal-hal berbau rohani yang berkaitan dengan itu; bisa debat panjang kita ngomongin fakta di sekitar saya tentang orang-orang yang punya prinsip begini tapi hidupnya terseok-seok). Biasanya saya denger orang bilang "kalau bingung masalah finansialnya pas punya anak, ya itu sih gimana nanti, nggak usah dipikirin, pasti datang sendiri." Saya hargai siapa pun yang punya pemikiran demikian, itu hak setiap manusia untuk punya kepercayaan, maka sudah menjadi hak saya juga untuk tidak menelan bulat-bulat kepercayaan itu.
Iya banyak anak=banyak rejeki, karena anak itu adalah rejeki. Tapi hello... anak itu butuh makan, butuh pendidikan, butuh kesejahteraan, dll. Saya nggak mau bahas panjang-lebar masalah ini, karena lagi-lagi saya anaknya realistis dan sarkastis, saya gak suka diajak mengandai untuk bergantung pada "keajaiban" yang belum pasti (ini satu hal pahit yang menjadi efek samping dari perjalanan saya dengan status infertil yang akhirnya saya terima).
Realistisnya begini. Saat baru menikah, saya belum terikat kontrak tetap dengan kampus manapun, gaji saya sebagai dosen terbang hanya 500 ribu rupiah dan gaji suami saya saat itu UMR Jakarta lebih dikit. Kami langsung tinggal sendiriinstead ofnumpang sama orang tua, jadi semua diurus berdua aja; maintanance rumah (listrik, air, internet, iuran kebersihan & keamanan RT), bensin, dan uang belanja harian setiap bulan saja bisa sampai 2,5 juta, belum bayar asuransi untuk dua orang, belum belanja bulanan yang isinya sabun cuci, dll, dan yakali saya sama suami nggak ngedate nonton bioskop sekali-sekali. Realistisnya, secara finansial kami masih belajar mengelola income yang kami peroleh. Realistisnya, saya sama suami masih muda (saya waktu itu 27 tahun, lagi-lagi terserah anggapan masing-masing, buat saya pribadi, saya menganggap 27 tahun masih terlalu muda untuk menikah—maklum, saya tidak dibesarkan dengan pola pikir kebelet nikah hahaha), dan kami masih ingin melihat dunia, masih mau pacaran, masih mau menikmati hidup berduaan dulu. Jadi kami sepakat untuk menunda. Egoiskah kami mau menikmati masa muda kami? Terserah opini masing-masing, yang jelas bagi saya dan suami, kami muda hanya sekali, jangan disia-siain. Untungnya orang tua saya mengerti dan mendukung saja keputusan ini, walaupun orang tua suami prinsipnya masih mayan oldskool (nikah-bunting-punya anak-gedein anak-tua-mati-udah).
Balik lagi ke masaah nunda, kami nunda juga bukan pakai cara aneh-aneh, cara yang kami pilih sesimpel ngitung kalender aja. Saya tidak minum obat KB, tidak pasang spiral, tidak pake ini-itu, apalagi ke dukun. Pokoknya saya cuman ngedownload apps yang ngitungin kapan saya ovulasi, kapan saya mens, dan seterusnya. Jadi setahun awal ya memang kami tidak menunggu kehadiran apa-apa, kami hanya pacaran dalam ikatan halal dan menikmati jalan-jalan. Jangan ditanya seperti apa kesalnya saya setiap ketemu sama teman-teman Mama-Papa, ketemu mertua, ketemu tetangga mertua, ketemu siapa pun yang tua deh pokoknya! Pertanyaan "udah isi?" itu sudah kayak cemilan yang pasti harus saya kunyah, belum lagi ada tante-tante lancang megang perut saya yang emang nggak rata terus nyosor "udah berapa bulan?" (B*ngs*t banget emang sih kalo tante yang satu ini, dendam kesumat saya sampai detik ini), terus mertua nyindir-nyindir kalau anak tetangaanya yang baru nikah bulan kemarin udah isi, belum lagi kalau ketemu teman suami yang gendong momongan di acara nikahan terus SKSD ngomong "kapan nyusul nih? mau gendong? biar ketularan." Lo kata hamil kayak flu kali ya bisa nular sekali pegang! Ah pokoknya kalimat basa-basi yang bikin risih itu udah bosen deh saya denger. Awalnya saya ngelengos, tapi lama-lama kok sebel ya. Mereka nanya kayak gitu seolah saya harus ikutin target hidup mereka dan kalau saya tidak ngikutin aturan society, saya dicap aneh.I HAD ENOUGH OF THOSE BULLSHITS. But sadly, it's far from ending.
Setahun pertama menikah kami akhirnya bisa me-manage finansial, saya mendapat kerjaan sebagai dosen tetap di tempat yang sekarang, income saya melejit berkali-kali lipat dari yang sebelumnya, suami juga secara rejeki membaik, hingga akhirnya kami mencapai apa yang menurut kami ideal. Sesuai kesepakatan, setelah setahun pacaran halal, kami mulai mencoba program kehamilan. Awalnya juga masih pakai cara cek kalender, kalau lagi masa subur ya dicoba, terus ya diliat deh bulan depan mens atau nggak. Ini berlangsung sekitar enam bulan sampai akhirnya suami menyarankan kami ke dokter sekedar meriksa aja. Saya setuju karena saran suami saya masuk akal, akhirnya saya cari dokter yang paling dekat sama kampus saya, karena pengennya kan yang praktis aja ya... Datanglah saya ke RS. St.C (nama disamarkan hahaha) Serpong.
Ini dokter pertama yang pernah saya datengin untuk urusan kandungan dan sumpah yaaaaa... orang ini sukses bikin saya kapok.
Bayangin... di dalam ruang praktiknya, dokter ini cuman ada meja konsultasi dia, dua kursi buat pasien di seberangnya, satu alat USG luar (USG luar tuh yang diolesin di perut doang, USG dalam tuh yang alatnya dimasukin via liang vagina), dan satu poster tentang kehamilan.
Pertama dia dengerin keluhan saya sama suami dengan muka datar, lalu saya disuruh berbaring di atas kursi USG dia itu, saya di-USG, lalu...
USG Pertama (USG luar)
"Kista nih, Bu." itu dokter nunjuk ke layar terus ngukur besar kistanya. "Wah sekitar tujuh sentian ya... besar sekali."
Tolong diinget, itu kunjungan saya PERTAMA KALI BANGET ke dokter kandungan, udah dibikin parno belom-belom. Cara bicaranya itu loh,as if i'm terminally ill and about to die soon!
"Oh, terus ada solusi apa ya, Dok, kira-kira?" saya nanya udah ketakutan ini.
"Harus operasi."
DENG! Belom sampai lima menit di dalam ruangan dia, saya sudah disuruh operasi. Saya nih anaknya serba fakta ya,nggak apa-apa lo suruh gue operasi, tapi tunjukin masalahnya, jelasin sampai gue paham!Jadi sebagai pasien yang merasa harus mengambil keputusan besar, saya nanya dong... "Kistanya di sebelah mana, Dok? Apa treatmentnya harus langsung operasi? Kalau dioperasi, prosedur tindakannya seperti apa ya?"
Tau nggak itu dokter ngapain?
Doi ngotak-ngatik komputer, buka google, masukin kata 'cyst' ke dalam search engine, TERUS LAYAR KOMPUTERNYA DIBALIK KE ARAH SAYA.
"Kista itu seperti ini, Bu. Ada di rahim itu. Kita operasi laparoscopy, hanya ditusuk di tiga titik dan kistanya diambil tidak akan disayat kulit Ibu."
"Jadi nggak ada solusi lain, Dok?"
"Kalau mau cepat ya dioperasi. Ini besar sekali loh, Bu." Dia ngetik lagi buat nyari gambar kista lain terus layar komputernya ditunjukin lagi ke saya.
"Operasinya akan seperti apa, Dok? Saya belum punya bayangan tentang prosedurnya." Saya masih tarik napas dalam-dalam dan mencoba positif thinking sama itu dokter.
Eh, doi ngetik lagi nyari "laparoscopy" terus nunjukin ke saya. LAPAROSCOPY YANG DITUNJUKIN BUAT USUS BUNTU PULA! Ya saya memang bukan dokter sih, tapi saya nggak bego! Saya bisa bedain yang mana usus buntu yang mana rahim, woy, Dok!!
Dalam hati saya sih gini: LO SINTING! NYARI DI GUGEL GUE JUGA JAGO, MONYONG! JELASIN DARI SISI KEDOKTERAN! JELASIN DARI SISI PENGALAMAN LO SAMA PASIEN LAIN! KASIH GUE ALTERNATIF SEBELOM LO SURUH GUE OPERASI!
Saya sama suami liat-liatan dengan dialog batin yang sepaham "kita cari dokter lain!" Jadi untuk mempercepat proses, saya manggut-manggut aja biar cepet kelar.
Akhirnya si dokter itu nulis surat rekomendasi supaya saya ke temannya di rumah sakit lain untuk periksa kesuburan setelah nanti kista itu diangkat.Sabodo teuinglah si dokter mao nyuruh apa, udah nggak sayawaro, intinya saya sama suami nggak mau lama-lama di dalam. Kita langsung cabut.
Apa perasaan saya pas kita sudah di mobil dan tarik napas dalam-dalam buat menenangkan diri? Jujur saya panik. Ibu saya pernah operasi yang urusannya sama rahim 3 kali dan saya tahu sebagaimana menyiksaknya hal itu. Mama pernah operasi angkat kista pas saya kecil, pernah c-section pas ngelahirin adik saya, dan terakhir saat rahimnya diangkat karena endometreosis. Ibu saya juga bukan wanita yang mendapatkan kehamilan dengan mudah, saya sudah menyaksikan segala terapi hormon yang pernah Mama lewati dulu saat orang tua saya mencoba hamil saya adik, saya tahu bahwa masalah infertility ini sudah menjadi warisan yang bakal dibawa terus sama saya, tapi saya tidak menyangka di kunjungan dokter pertama saya langsung ditemukan kista sebesar 7 senti yang cara penanganannya hanya dioperasi.
Seharusnya saya panik kan ya mau dioperasi, seharusnya saya mikirin biaya yang belum tentu tertanggung asuransi, mikirin dikasih tindakan di ruangan dingin mengerikan itu, mikirin bakal ada efek samping apa kalau dioperasi, tapi nyatanya yang saya pikirin waktu itu hanya "gimana mahasiswa gue? Kalau operasi palingan ada waktu dua minggu harus pemulihan, kelas gue siapa yang gantiin? Anak TA siapa yang ngebimbing?"
Berhubung rumah sakitnya deket kampus, setelah suami saya nganterin balik ke kampus, saya langsung cari kaprodi untuk jelasin duduk masalah yang baru saya dengar.
Kaprodi saya laki, tapi memang doi family man dan pengertian banget kalau udah masalah sensitif kayak begini. Saya cerita sambil nunjukin sonogram USG saya biar dia nggak ngira saya ngada-ngada, lalu si Bapak ikutan melotot panik sambil bilang "Lo gilaaa... tujuh senti?! Udah nggak usah pikirin kelas sama bimbingan, minta Pak Z gantiin, dia kan koor matkul lo, lo pengobatan aja sampai tuntas!"
"Serius nih Pak? Nggak apa-apa saya dua mingguan nggak masuk?"
"Udah, itu jeroan yang jadi masalah. Urusin dulu, sehat dulu yang penting."
Rada tenang tuh saya abis Pak Bos ngasih izin kan, terus saya harus ngomong sama si Pak Z yang bakal kena imbas gantiin kelas saya dong... akhirnya saya ngomong dan menjelaskan hal yang sama ke Bapak Z. Si bapak ini kebetulan istrinya baru ngelahirin, jadi dia juga udah kenyang sama yang namanya dokter kandungan. Pak Z nggak keberatan gantiin kelas saya, tapi si bapak nahan saya di meja beliau buat ngajak diskusi.
"Bu, nggak mau cari second opinion, Bu? Dulu awal istri saya hamil, kita ganti dokter sampai lima kali karena nggak sreg... kadang cara berkomunikasinya juga penting sih, Bu. Kalau dari cerita Ibu, kok dokternya kayak tidak menjelaskan apa-apa tapi langsung ke kesimpulan operasi saja? Bukannya suudzon, tapi banyak juga dokter yang cari gampang doangan gitu loh..." si Bapak ini nada bicaranya cengengesan, tapi saya tahu dia beneranconcernsama nasib saya di tangan dokter yang meragukan ini.
"Pengen sih, Pak. Saya sama suami juga nggak percaya sama dokter yang ngejelasin ke pasiennya pake Google, Pak."
"Nah itu makanya! Kita ini dosen yang pegang mata kuliah Riset Metodologi, Bu. Jagoan kita lah kalau disuruh nyari begituan, nggak perlu kita sekolah spesialis buat nge-Google doang." Si bapak membuat suasana hati saya makin ringan dengan jokes recehannya. "Masa' kita bayar dokter ratusan ribu cuman untuk nontonin dia masukin kata kunci ke Google, dokter apa itu? Mahasiswa kita juga bisa disuruh nge-Google kista."
"Iya nih, Pak. Saya juga tadi diskusi sama suami mau cari dokter baru, yang dokter di St. C udah saya black-list lah pokoknya. Kalau pun benar diagnosanya, saya nggak suka sama cara dia jelasin masalah dan ngentengin proses operasinya. Emang saya ayam apa tinggal dia taro di meja operasi, tusuk tiga titik, terus selesai!?"
Masalah izin untuk nyakit dan pengganti kuliah aman, tapi saya tidak memanfaatkan wild-card itu cepet-cepet. Berhubung waktu itu saya sama suami masih rada syok, kita menikmati waktu untuk panik dulu beberapa minggu, untuk nangis ketakutan yang saya lakuin diem-diem kalau saya lagi nyetir sendirian, saya coba ngobrol sama ibu dan sepupu saya yang pernah ngalamin kista, sambil nanya-nanya tentang dokter kandungan yang terpercaya. Akhirnya sebulan kemudian kami mencoba mengunjungi dokter lain di E.H. BSD. Kita tau dokter ini dari kakak ipar saya yang kebetulan kerja di sana. Katanya dokter terbagus di rumah sakit itu adalah dokter yang akan kami kunjungi, peringatannya cuman satu "dokternya saklek! kalau pasiennya telat atau bikin dokternya kesel, di-black-list langsung!"
Nah loh... ngeri kan? hahaha tapi kita tetep dateng, namanya juga usaha.
Jadilah kami ke E.H. Kami masuk ruangan dokter itu. Di dalam ruangan yang terlihat lebih bersahabat, saya sudah merasa jauh lebih yakin. Di sepanjang dinding si dokter ada poster-poster tentang alat reproduksi wanita, ada foto-foto dia sama pasien yang pernah dibantu, ada kartu ucapan terima kasih dari pasien-pasien terdahulu, ya pokoknya terlihat jauh lebih meyakinkan lah. Dokter ini informatif, solutif, dan tidak bertele-tele; saya suka nih dokter yang begini. Fakta lain tentang dokter ini, doi orang Batak, jadi kebayang dong kalo ngomong sekeras dan secepet apa, berasa diomelin mulu lah pokonya hahaha, tapi ya memang udah bawaan dianya ngomong gitu, jadi saya yang harus konsenterasi keras buat dengar ucapan dia; saya panggil saja dokter ini dengan Dokter Galak... hahaha (tapi pinter banget dokternya, walaupun galak).
Saya membuka konsul dengan menyerahkan gambar ultrasound kista yang saya peroleh dari dokter Google kemarin, saya tunjukin dan saya sebutin kekhawatiran saya. Lalu tahu apa yang dokter itu bilang?
"Kita periksa di ruang USG ya, Bu, kita USG dalam." Si dokter menunjuk tonjolan yang kista itu. "Kalau melihat ini sekilas, sepertinya ini kista yang muncul karena ibu mau menstruasi, bukan kista yang mengganggu. Tapi untuk memastikan kita USG dalam dulu ya."
Saya pindah ke ruang sebelah di mana ada kursi horror ala dokter kandungan itu, lalu diminta lepas celana dan melebarkan kaki karena kali ini USG dilakukan dengan memasukkan alat ke dalam vagina. Si dokter ini menemukan gundukan yang ditemukan dokter sebelumnya, tapi setelah diukur pakai alat dia, ukurannya sudah berkurang menjadi 3,4 cm. Itu berita baik buat saya, tapi berita yang lebih indah muncul.
USG Kedua (USG dalam)
"Ini saya kasih pil Yasmine saja ya, Bu, untuk meluruhkan. Ini sih tidak perlu dioperasi, hanya perlu diluruhkan saja."
Saya sama suami langsung liat-liatan dengan tatapan yang bilang "Nah, ini baru dokter! Ngasih solusi lain dulu sebelum operasi!"
Setelah pemeriksaan, dokter itu menanyakan kebiasaan sehari-hari kami, membandingkan tinggi badan dan berat badan saya (berkesimpulan saya kegendutan—padahal saya normal, ga kurus dan ga gendut), lalu menyuruh kami melakukan sepaket tes hormon dan sperm test (ini saya ceritain lain waktu aja). Kami balik dari dokter kedua itu dengan perasaan jauh lebih ringan. Saya beli tuh obat KB yang harus pakai resep dokter itu, obatnya nggak mahal, nggak memberikan efek samping apa-apa ke saya, cara pakainya juga diminum doang yang teratur. Lalu bagaimana hasilnya saat saya memeriksakan diri di bulan berikutnya? KISTANYA HILANG SAUDARA-SAUDARA! Nggak pakai operasi!
Bayangin kalau saya tidak mencari second opinion, bayangin kalau saya pasrah aja dioperasi sama si Dokter Google, bayangin kalau saya mengabaikan nurani saya yang nggak sreg sama si dokter pertama. Mungkin saya beruntung karena kista saya bisa di-treatment dengan obat sedangkan beberapa kista memang harus dioperasi, tapi kalau saya tidak mencari alternatif atau opini lain maka jalan saya hanya operasi dan entah apa efek sampingnya ke rahim saya kalau sampai si Dokter Google melakukan laparoscopy itu.
Moral dari cerita ini? Pertama, sabarlah... mulut orang kepo di luar sana pasti lemes, orang Indo keseringan basa-basi sampai nggak sadar bahwa kadang basa-basinya itu bisa bikin orang sedih, nggak usah takut dikatain baperan, belum tentu kalau orang lain ditempatkan pada posisi infertil, mereka nggak baper. Infertility memang sulit untuk diterima dan masalah itu berhubungan langsung dengan kodrat wanita yang katanya baru sempurna kalau sudah menajdi ibu, wajar saja jika kekurangan itu membuat seseorang sedih dan rendah diri berkepanjangan, saya pun masih in betweenemosi ini kok di balik sikap positif yang saya coba terapkan.
Lalu moral berikutnya yang mau saya tegaskan tentang pengalaman berburu dokter: percayalah dengan insting! Kalau sejak awal dokternya memang bikin nggak sreg, atau nggak meyakinkan (kalau saya kebetulan nggak sreg dari cara si Dokter Google menjelaskan ini-itu yang terkesan ogah-ogahan dan nggak profesional), jangan ragu untuk cari second, third, fourth, even hundredth opinion sampai ketemu yang cocok.It's your body!Orang lain bisa seenaknya aja nyuruh operasi, tapi saya selalu percaya bahwa dokter yang bener bukanlah dokter yang langsung nyuruh operasi di diagnosa pertama. Dokter yang baik (bagi saya) adalah dokter yang menjelaskan masalah dengan menyeluruh dan memberikan opsi solusi; sekali pun solusi itu adalah operasi sebenarnya tidak masalah, tapi cara mengkomunikasikan KENAPA operasi itu adalah jalan terbaik yang solutif menurut saya membedakan kualitas dari masing-masing dokter.
Jadi untuk siapa pun yang mungkin punya pengalaman sama seperti saya, bagi yang sudah sering baper karena ditanyain pertanyaan yang bikin kita sedih sama kerabat dekat, yang sudah bosan dituduh (maaf) 'mandul'—saya benci banget istilah ini, tapi orang Indonesia mulutnya kan emang b*ngs*t ya kalau udah ngatain orang, nggak punya perasaan atau kesadaran buat ganti kata M itu jadi infertil aja kek biar nggak nyelekit di hati—, atau mungkin pernah juga menemui dokter yang bikin nggak nyaman... jangan ragu untuk keluar dari lingkaran setan itu, karena lagi-lagi kita punya hak untuk bahagia dengan cara kita masing-masing!
Saya nggak sowan ke mertua setengah tahun lebih, saya menarik diri dari acara pertemuan keluarga besar, saya menghindari reuni sekolah, saya titip salam saja kalau suami saya menghadiri pesta pernikahan temannya, saya jauhi orang-orang yang membuat saya membenci diri saya sendiri, dan saya cari dokter yang bisa memberi solusi. Takdir Tuhan mungkin tidak bisa saya ubah, tapi saya bisa mengubah cara saya menghadapi apa yang sudah digariskan untuk saya. Kalau saya terus berkubang dalam kolam gelap yang membuat saya tidak bahagia, lama-lama saya depresi dan suicidal(been there), jadi ada baiknya saya belajar memaafkan kekurangan diri saya sendiri, bangkit dan mengejar sesuatu yang lain untuk mengobati luka saya, dan mencari aktualisasi diri yang tidak melulu dikaitkan dengan kemampuan saya menghadirkan seorang bayi ke dunia; jika Tuhan mau saya menjadi ibu, suatu hari saya akan diberi kepercayaan, jika tidak... saya akan mencari kebahagiaan saya sendiri dengan karya saya yang lain. Intinya, kalau saya boleh mengutarakan prinsip saya berkenaan dengan masalah ini sih, saya mau bilang: Saya boleh dianggap gagal menjadi wanita oleh society, tapi saya tidak boleh gagal menjadi manusia.
Sama seperti wanita lain yang senasib dengan saya. Kita bukan wanita gagal, Tuhan hanya menggariskan keberhasilan kita di jalan yang lain. Percayalah, butuh waktu bertahun-tahun sampai saya bisa menanamkan pola pikir ini, nanti akan saya share perjalanan saya selama membenci diri saya sendiri sampai akhirnya saya belajar menerima kekurangan ini di Inconvenient Truth lainnya...
'Till next time~
edit:
I've completed my infertility story and compiled them all into "inconvenient truth" titles. Click on these pictures for easier access to read them all.
This year, it will be my fifth Eid with a husband, and I am kinda relieved about the physical distancing policy because that means I don't have to attend any big family meeting, that usually always lead the elders to ask me this question: "Are you pregnant yet?"
I went through four Eid celebrations hearing that question, I should be prepared by now, but the thought of it nonetheless brings tears to my eyes.
Because I can't tell them the result of my check-up, it'll be uncomfortable telling them what I went through with my husband to get our own miracle; they won't understand the mental and physical pain that punctured me on the inside. Instead, I can only smile and ask them to pray for me—yes, all that BS just to cover the pain I'm hiding.
If it's all about God's plan, then i do really hope for the fact that He really prepared something for me, but if not, I wish He'd give me enough strength to put up a straight face and embrace what I've been lacking as a woman this far.
A year ago, the father of my best friend past away. The man was like a father to me, and it's not just a figure of speech. I have known my best friend since we were 5 years old. We went to the same school from kindergarten until high school; we each took turn to be ridden home by our parents, spent the nights in each other's place, and even got scolded by each other's parents. Her father wouldn't mind scolding me when I was wrong, yet at the same time, he was also the kind of man that would drive me home after midnight no matter how annoyed he was by me and my friend's agenda—just like my own dad. This man was also the witness that officiated my marriage almost six years ago... so to hear the bad news was devastating, and i didn't think my day yesterday could get any worse. But I was wrong.
At the funeral, I met with my other best friends, the gangs I grew up with; girls that know me, know my struggle and they are the people that I feel most comfortable with. One thing I love about reuniting with people my age is the fact that they don't askthatquestion—unlike the elders—yet somehow the mellow side of me still crawled to find a hiding place when two of them started sharing their married life jokingly.
"I want a second child already, but my husband just shamed me in front of our ob/gyn by telling him that he hasn't thought of having one!" Said my friend.
"Use my tactics then; take out your IUD without him knowing!" Joked my other friend who got her second child that way.
"I'm considering it!" My first friend laughed. "I'm not young anymore, and soon I will have more problems if I have late pregnancy. The clock's ticking, and I really need to talk with my husband about it."
Nothing's wrong with that kind of conversation, right? They have fun sharing, they mind their own business, they're not hurting me nor asking me how my prospect with a child will be, and I think it's normal for my friends to be worried about the year gap between her firstborn and the chances of having healthy pregnancy while she's young.
I laughed with them, but I cried inside. Cried because of the realization that I got.
For some women, getting pregnant is as easy as taking their IUD out whilst I'm here having unprotected sex since my wedding night, planning all fertile days in the calendar, doctor visits, medicines, surgery... and nothing. Nothing has happened yet. Some women did it on their wedding night, and a few weeks later, they got pregnant, just like my newlywed cousin. Some women can literally get a baby according to what she's been planning with their husbands in time and don't have to be worried about taking treatments to get a baby inside her. And some women are like me, struggling to get pregnant and sent to cry in the bathroom as the period cramp comes each month. I know each person faces their own fight, and God madethismine, but sometimes I just need a rest, sometimes I just wanna hear good news; at least I want to hear comforting news that it's possible, that it all will be worth it in the end.
I don't know why I'm sharing something very personal here, but I feel better if I let it out of my chest. I felt better after writing about this hidden struggle in one of my novels. Sometimes people just need to get it out of their system, and this is me trying to put it out there and free myself from my own dark thought.
I'm not fine, but I know i'll be okay, and I'll rebound from this. This is not something I can talk about freely without getting myself in tears that's why I chose to write it here, just to be written (and read by people that don't have to tell me to "be patient"). I hope by doing this, I won't have a breakdown at my family reunion in the future.
I know I'm infertile, and I should not think it's a taboo thing to admit; the only way I can learn to love myself is to learn to accept one of my flaws—I have many flaws, but this is the one that I struggle the most on a daily basis. Please don't tell me to be patient, pray, or have stronger faith in God, or whatever BS is out there. For once, I'm allowed to feel what I feel without the need to be told what I already know. After all, I just needed to get it out of my chest and not get a pep talk I didn't want.
Lucky for me, I got my husband. It's as hard for him as it is for me, and I'm grateful for the fact that he's still around to hold my hand for every treatment I've gone through so far.
This is my most personal post so far, I hope it inspires you to be grateful if you're one of the lucky ones I mentioned above, and I hope it can also be a reminder not to ask the silly question to anyone... because we never know the struggle people went through and how a simple silly question could trigger the emotional plug they've put on for so long.
One day I'll share the journey I mentioned above here, but this is it for now. Till next time, see you when I see you.
edit:
I've completed my infertility story and compiled them all into "inconvenient truth" titles. Click on these pictures for easier access to read them all.
It took me a very long time to access this blogger account again. Why?
First of all, clearly the lack of time I got into blogging. Not that I stopped writing, oh, I still write. Believe me, I wrote 14 finished novels in the past (and some still on going) during my 6 years of absence. In fact, writing has become my therapy in years! But I think all of my energy were channeled through that and I sort of forgotten this place.
My next reason would be because the level of seriousness of my job. The company I work with has an 'unwritten' rules about how the employee should carry themselves on public and social media (especially when we are reflecting the company's values). That's why I became a silent reader on my FB account, I don't actively use my Twitter, and I rarely post on IG unless it's something 'safe' to share. So i really can't rant that much anymore, can't I? But I think, as long as I'm not talking about my work (or the company i work with) here, all will be fine.
The third and the most important reason is... I've been wanting to write in this blog for few years, BUT I'VE FORGOTTEN MY ACCESS! I was so persistent thinking "This is the email I used to sign in! Why can't I access this account?!" well, years gone by and finally I gathered up enough will to actually search for troubleshooting. Turned out, I was wrong the whole time! The email I used for this account was the email that puts a cringe on my face (you know, the email where you mashed up your name and your idol together into the most embarrassing email account? The email you shove under the rug and wish no colleagues of yours would find out?! Hahaha!), but yes, that's the email and i'm glad that i'm able to finally log into this old account.
Honestly, there is one other thing that made me feel like writing again in this blog. This blog was only seen by my friends in college. Most of us don't do blogging anymore but sometimes I still go around their old blog to see if there's any updates or anything. Because of the reason I mentioned, it is safe to say that the traffic to this blog is suuuuper low, and that's why I think I can feel safe using this as a place to think out loud. Because no one will read it and even if someone reads it, there's a chance only my old friends that'd knew my blog.
Lastly, this is my lame way to reach out to those said friends (just in case they still check this account--which i'm 98% sure they're not). I haven't really been in touch with those friends. It's my fault. I was the one that always find it hard to spare my time to meet them, and now i'm paying the price of endless loneliness. If you're my friend and you feel like I abandoned you or neglected you in the past, i'm sorry. I never meant it that way, and i'm sure you never meant to forget me also. Somehow life goes on and we rarely cross path anymore, and I knew I hadn't try my best to reach out, but at the same time I really don't know where to start without making things awkward. So I just want you guys to know that... I wish you all well, and I want you all to know that sometimes--when I feel very lonely--i'd think back to our old days; and the memories always warm my heart like a cup of hot coffee.
