Coming Clean, Well Mostly

After my crazy day yesterday -- which ended off quite nicely with my appointment with Dr. Nora, thank God, even the traffic wasn't too bad coming home, I came to school ready to start telling people about my surgery.

The first person I told was my planning time teacher (she comes in to teach my class English). She was super supportive.  Then I spoke to the secretary who had no idea what was going on, my principal is a vault apparently. My biggest reason for telling her was that my principal asked me to help him find someone to cover my leave, something totally against the rules, but I'm a pleaser and I tried to do as I was told.

It's pretty difficult to find someone that is French speaking to cover such a long period of time and I was told that the list of available teachers has been exhausted. I have a couple of substitute teachers that I call in to cover for me if I'm sick or if I have a meeting, and neither one of them is interested.

I wish that I wasn't so worried about who is going to be in my class while I'm gone, but honestly it is bothering me more than the actual surgery!

At lunch, my principal sat beside me and said that he had a plan in place if we couldn't find anyone. He's going to shift some teachers around and put someone on staff that speaks French in my room and then find someone to do her job. I was able to leave school with a pretty big load off of my shoulders after I heard that!

By the end of the day I told my planning time teacher, the head secretary (but the part-time one was there too, so she heard everything), the librarian (who I am pretty close with, who was the only one who connected the dots between my endo and IF, I've slipped enough hints around her!), and three of my closest friends on staff. I told them that I was having surgery for my endo, but I didn't tell them the fertility aspect. I really didn't want to get into it and I knew that if I started getting into all the IF business that I would start to cry. My teaching partner knows EVERYTHING, but we're very close and I know that she won't tell anyone.

I wish that I could've been 100% truthful, but the fact that I told them this much was a big deal for me -- being "secretly" IF has been the best way for me to cope.

And it doesn't end there, I called my mom tonight to tell her. For those of you that don't know my mom and I don't exactly have the easiest relationship and I wanted to wait until the last moment to tell her. Surprisingly she was so supportive. I stressed the fact that Dr. Hilgers is one of the best and that he has a great reputation and that the doctors here in Ontario weren't going to help me like he can. I also assured her that we had the money saved up and that we didn't have to go into any debt or that I would lose any pay while I was off (she always gets worried about money matters!). She also offered to take days off if I needed her to, even though she's retiring at Christmas. My mom is so good in a crisis and she's also a nurse, so I'm pretty fortunate. I was also surprised that she said that we just had to pray that it was going to work. She doesn't usually talk that way, she's usually pretty clinical and matter-of-fact. I almost started to cry when she said that, but thankfully she wanted to get off the phone because she was watching something with my dad. 

So such a big weight has been taken off of my shoulders. The people that matter know and if the nosy people on my staff want to know I told them to say that I was having surgery, that I was fine and that I would be back after Christmas. No one else needs to know more. Really, it's none of their business!

Yesterday on my way home from Dr. Nora's, I had yet another conversation with God. I know that regardless of what I want, ultimately it's His plan. But I do hope and pray that all of this effort, all of the tests, phone calls, e-mails, doctor's visits, invasive procedures, the list goes on and on, are going to amount to finally having a baby. I've tried to keep a brave face and tell people that it's for my health, but for Pete's sake I want a freaking baby (or two or four, any number Lord, send them, but at least one, please!).

If I don't get my happy ending at the end of all of this, I'm heading straight to a padded room.