I wrote a blog post not too long ago saying that we need to talk about hard things.

This will be a hard post for me. I don’t want to write this post because my emotions are still raw from this and I am still trying to forgive the people in my family who, through their own willful ignorance and total disregard for my feelings have broken my heart.

My husband and I were blessed with our daughter in the fall of 2005. When she was a year old we started to try for baby #2. However, after more than a decade of infertility we were not so fortunate.

While on vacation for Christmas of 2016, I told my husband that I really felt that we were meant to have another baby and I asked him to give fertility treatments one last try. I told him I felt that we were meant to have more babies and, to my surprise, he didn’t need any convincing.

When we got back from our vacation, we immediately called our doctors to start the process. Everything seemed to line up, my husband did need to see a specialist with a 6 month wait list but I happened to call and there was a cancellation and he could be seen the next day. Further, the doctor was able to diagnose my husband’s issues quickly and he was in for a minor surgery the following week.

During that time, my doctor ran all the tests and I had a quick procedure as well and we were all set.

Please understand that I truly felt in my soul that we were going to FINALLY have another baby- actually, I thought we were going to have twins if I am being honest.

We started looking for a bigger home and when we would walk through new homes I would say to him, “this isn’t the house for our family- I can’t picture the twins here.”

Then we walked into what turned out to be our current home and I knew- I KNEW that this this was the home for my husband, daughter, and the future twins we were going to have.

Everything felt perfect.

Fertility treatment was rough on me. After 6 months, my doctor thought I might need another procedure and then my husband blindsided me by saying that he no longer wanted to continue with the process.

Just like that, it was over. My hope was gone. I couldn’t get pregnant if my husband wasn’t willing to participate anymore.

To say I was devastated would be an understatement. I was heartbroken. Worse yet, the person who broke my heart was the person I love most on the planet.

I grieved.

I grieved the loss of the twins I was so sure we were going to have.

I still miss them.

It took me a very long time to move past that. A. Very. Long. Time. I also had to forgive my husband because I blamed him for my heartbreak.

After 2 years I could finally look at a baby and not feel a deep sense of loss.

Then comes the phone call that ripped my heart wide open. There are a set of newborn twins in my family and they now need a foster family and possible adoption.

These twins are located in another state, their mother very much loves them and I very much love their mother- my sister.

I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why they are calling me for this as I am 800 miles away and there is a lot of family much closer than I am. In fact, I had spoken to the social worker previously and was told that I wouldn’t ever be an option unless my sister’s kids were placed for adoption which wouldn’t happen. The social worker and I did talk about being a good resource for my sister and I said I would do what I could to help her from 800 miles away and I even made a trip there to help my sister last month.

Confused, I asked the case worker and the attorney, “Why me? What has changed form our last conversations?” Their responses both were, “Because we interviewed multiple family members and they all said to give the twins to you. No one in your family here is willing to help and they are all positive you will.”

That’s when a door that was closed so tightly (for my own mental health) was busted right open.

Now, before you get all excited that my wishes came true. Due to my daughter’s illness and medical bills we cannot bring in two newborn babies into our home. I have agonized over this, please don’t judge my decision.

But this hurts me. I feel this sadness in my bones. Do you know what it feels like to say no to something you have prayed for so hard for so many years? Do you know how devastating it is to not be able to help your family? When I say I have agonized, I have. I have tried to figure out some way to help these babies- even though they are not mine and there is strong possibility that their mother, my sister, will get them back and I would just be a placeholder. I have prayed to be able to hold a baby longer than just the five minutes I get when I meet one of my friends’ babies. I have prayed for midnight feedings and for spit-up on my shirt. I have prayed so hard.

My heart is raw and exposed.

I am so angry at the family members who, without a thought or care for anyone other than themselves, said “give the twins to Trina.” They did it without thinking. I don’t care if their intent wasn’t to hurt me, they did. They assumed I would just do it. They never thought about how much it would hurt me to take in two babies, or worse yet, not be able to take in two babies after I have spent more than 10 years doing everything possible to have another baby of my own.

I would cry in the bathroom each time my cycle started. I wanted this so badly and here I am turning it away…

This blog post isn’t over, I just can’t continue writing it.

Let’s talk about hard things!

It is going to take me a minute to get to my point so hang in there, there’s gonna be period talk first but not like gross-gross period talk.

I have ALWAYS been one to discuss my flow because I feel like it is something that SHOULD be discussed – it is natural. I mean, half of the world experiences a menstrual cycle at some point. However, what we don’t realize is that so many women are NOT experiencing “normal” cycles. Also, with my medical history, more people have investigated my uterus than I can actually count so any “shame” I would have about it flew out the window years ago.

I have had PROBLEMS ever since Aunt Flo first made her initial stop to visit me back when I was 11.

Side note, I started my flow on my grandmother’s watch and that alone was the worst thing ever.

I used to miss school all the time because my period was a monster but back then the doctors were quick to dismiss my issues as “dramatics.” I will never forget the 3rd doctor I was taken to see and she said to me, “Honey, you need to suck it up. We all have pain. You are costing your parents money.” I remember being so deflated because I could not accept that this amount of pain and the basically never ending cycle was what I was going to experience the rest of my reproductive life. Thankfully my mom took up the battle for me- she wasn’t going to stop until we had REAL answers.

My teenage years were pretty awful and I was so depressed and in a lot of pain. I was taking birth control that was so strong I had morning sickness. My classmates made me feel like I was a misfit for missing so much school due to being “sick” (because back then you couldn’t tell people that you had a period from Hell as that would be inappropriate to discuss). And, so, for years my parents had me on all the “typical” antidepressants such as, Paxil, Zoloft, and Effexor to help me “adjust” to my fate.

My 20’s were spent trying to get control of my now surgically diagnosed Endometriosis and PCOS. I was blessed to have one child and then suffered miscarriage after miscarriage and underwent unsuccessful fertility treatment twice.

Looking back now I feel like EVERYTHING is related in one way or another. I believe my Endometriosis, PCOS, Infertility, Miscarriages and Autoimmune Disease are all connected. In fact, we know Endometriosis and Autoimmune Diseases are both based in inflammation. However, that is a post for another day.

My Endometriosis is largely “under control” in comparison to how it used to be. I have had many scrapings, D&C’s, and ablations and I have just learned to deal with the pain. I have found some relief when using CBD both topically and orally as opposed to abusing Advil and Tramadol. My PCOS is always going to be a struggle – especially with weight.

My periods, on the other hand, are still fucking awful and I will paint no picture to the contrary. In fact, the only picture one could invoke would be a crime scene. You know, I use to get so mad at the inspirational messages on my pads, “Have a happy period.” Have a happy period?! TF are you talking about pad? I am bleeding like someone severed my femoral artery while my uterus has my soul in a death grip during a lightening storm inside my body and I still have to do everything I am supposed to do in a day. Fuck you and your “happy” periods, just let me be in my misery. I would almost rather have my pad tell me a fun fact like a Snapple cap or give me a a tip on how to get blood out of my good undies because my period showed up early (btw, hydrogen peroxide works great).

You see, a period like the above is NOT NORMAL but to someone who has Endometriosis- I just hit the nail on the head!

And here it is, the point behind this post!

We need to talk about hard things.

Ladies People, don’t take things at face value. If you feel something is wrong seek clarity and if you feel like a diagnosis is wrong, get a second test done or see a new doctor. For the most part, I believe that doctors do genuinely want to help most of the time BUT a lot of them rely on text books and if you don’t fit a text book (i.e., an 11 year old girl with severe endometriosis or a 34 year old female that shows symptoms for a very rare autoimmune disease that doesn’t typically hit until the late 50’s) the doctors are going to be baffled because a lot of doctors have to operate within the guidelines of their license and the medical boards that they answer to.

I don’t do these posts because I like the attention. In fact, I often want to sign off of the internet for days until the posts blow over because it is hard to put it all out there. I don’t think it will ever get easier for me. But I will tell you this, the more I post about the hard things the more people come to me and say, “This is me too- because of your posts I saw a doctor and I am feeling so much better now” or “I have RA and wanted to take less of my medications and my doctor approved your CBD and I am feeling SO MUCH BETTER.”

Why not be real with each other? And now I am about to sound like the hippie I am, be real with each other and through that truth we can help each other. I can tell you I read and relate to the real posts on social media way more than I do the perfectly edited IG picture of someone sitting on a windowsill pretending to read Wurthering Heights.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good photo but I love real talk and being authentic. That’s why this blog is called UnSocially Acceptable because I want to talk about the things that are largely considered to be unacceptable in a social gathering or on social media… natural things that should be talked about so we can all know that we are not alone. So many people struggle. I struggle every day and I would love to hear that someone relates to me, there truly is strength in numbers. I really do believe that.

Y’all, the internet was invented for 2 reasons:

  • 1- to share hilarious and adorable animal videos; and,
  • 2- to connect with others.

It is my goal to make my connections mean something. As I get older I find that the most valuable commodity is time and I want everyone I know and love and all the people I will eventually know and love to have it in spades.

Thank you for reading, Trina