Things I'm Learning

This process is teaching me a lot.  It's not an easy or fun way to learn, but it is teaching me things that I hope are making me better at my job.  When I sit in the waiting room with a lump in my throat, I realize that my patients must be feeling much the same way.  It's petrifying to put your life and trust into a total stranger's hands.  When my doctor does the "Choose your Own Adventure" method, I want to punch him in the nose, but then I remember that I do the same thing to my patients!  And I really only give them options that would be okay for them to choose from.  But I'm sure the families I work with want to punch me in the nose too.

Maybe I should invest in a face mask.

Mostly I'm learning that having an intense medical issue to deal with is incredibly stressful.  On my end as a medical provider, it's just another day of work.  I'm learning that I need to step back and remember that they are stressed, worried, and navigating a whole myriad of medical care, financial strain, and uncertainties for a child's future.  It can't just be another day of work for me.  I have to be in their moment, not mine.

Choose Your Own Adventure!

We met with the RE again today.  This visit was for an ultrasound and to look at all the test results and make a plan.  I like plans.  I'm Type A.

Ultrasound was with... um... different instrumentation than I'm used to.  It was also Mr. Right's first time in a room involving stirrups.  He was as giddy with excitement.  Anywho, the ultrasound didn't show anything.  He tried to see if he could make me wince - he was successful. 

All of our tests have come back normal so far.   Is it bad that I wish we had an actual identified problem with an actual identified treatment? 

About 10 years ago, I was told I probably had endometriosis.  The only way to really diagnose it was surgery, and since I wasn't planning on a baby at that time and birth control pills could handle the symptoms, I was put on the pill and stayed that way.  Now, the thought is that I probably have endometriosis and it's affecting my fertility. 

So he gave us options.  Infertility is apparently of the "Choose Your Own Adventure" variety.  We could have the diagnostic surgery or just go to drugs.  My first thought was, "Why the heck would I want to pump myself up with drugs and release more eggs if we don't know that things in the southern hemisphere are status quo?"  Well, turns out that even if they do identify endo, the treatment options wouldn't be much different in the end.  If there were able to remove some of the endo, there is no guarantee that it would help with fertility.  And it's a bigger surgery than I thought.  A whole freakin' week out of work.  That does not sound like a good time.   So the other option was to do a test to make sure everything is structurally clear (an HSG - which I'm none too excited about, but one day of pain sounds better than 6) and then do injectable medications.  Not sure why we're skipping oral meds and going straight to shots, but that's what was presented to us.  We decided to go for option B - the HSG and drugs.  Mr. Right will have to shoot me in the ass on a regular basis. 

On to figuring out how it will all get paid for.  Hmmmm.

I Just Screened A Phone Call From My Best Friend

When I told my BFF that we were going to start fertility testing and treatment, she was surprisingly un-supportive.  She actually said "Oh my God!  You are over reacting.  It's just going to take time.  It takes a lot of people a long time."  Mind you - she got knocked up with both of her kids right after she got off the pill.  I haven't talked to her since.  I tried to explain my feelings, but she just kept playing it down.  I just don't know what to say to her since this is such a major part of my life right now and I don't want my feelings to be marginalized.  So she called,  I saw it was her, and I didn't answer.  I checked the message.  She called to tell me that someone we went to college with is pregnant with her 5th kid.

Swell.

I can't even log into Facebook anymore because I can't handle the barrage of pregnancy announcements and sonogram profile pictures.  Now my BFF can deliver the same anguish,  live and unsolicited.

Swell.

The First Visit to the RE

When we were getting ready to go to the RE for the first time, I googled and googled and googled "what to expect at the first appointment."  I'm the kind of person who likes, no NEEDS, to be prepared for all situations.  I picture all the worst case scenarios and try to come up with a "just in case" plan.  I know - not the healthiest way to be, but right now, that's who I am.  Anywho, all I could find were things like "you'll fill out paperwork, bring your charts, you'll talk..." duh!  I wanted to know what I would feel.  What might he say?  Will they do tests right then?  Should I schedule it for a certain cycle day?  No one could tell me... so I'm putting it in my own darned blog.

I wasn't sure if they would want to do tests or anything, so I just scheduled it on a day Mr. Right and I could both go.  That was fine.  I was in the middle of my cycle so they scheduled testing from there.  I didn't have to wait until a new cycle started or anything.

The day before the appointment, I felt like I had something stuck in my throat.  You know that feeling you get when you're trying not to cry?  Just like that.  I couldn't decide if I was coming down with something or if it was nerves.  I'm thinking it was nerves since I didn't get sick and it went away after the appointment.  Big dork right here.  We got there and checked in, the people at the check in counter were very friendly, but since I'm in the south it would be weird if they weren't.  There was another couple there... we didn't make eye contact.  It's a "What are you in for" kind of feeling.

We didn't wait long at all and they came back and took my vitals.  My pulse and BP were high and I usually have low BP so I'm pretty sure my emotions had literally gotten the best of me.  They took Mr. Right and I in another room and told us the doc would be in.  We didn't wait long at all.  We were sitting at a table, not like an exam room or anything.  He took histories from both of us and looked my charts.  It was funny because I use fertilityfriend and chart every little symptom, every time we have sex (which says "BD" for Baby Dance on the chart - the most ludicrous euphemism ever), I put it all on there.  He didn't even care where the software called ovulation.  He said "These things are always so damned complicated.  Show me where your first positive ovulation predictor kit result was.  I just need that and your temps."  I liked that.  To the point.  He was friendly enough, but to the point and didn't molly-coddle.  I need that.

From there, he had a suspicion of what the problem might be and told us what we'd need to do.  Progesterone on CD 21, a bunch of blood tests stuff on CD 3, tests for Mr. Right, and then we'd get back together and decide what to do from there.  There was no talk of treatment, just figuring out what was up.  I thought that was good.  I'd be worried if they started throwing IVF at us on day one.

So the tests are done, we're waiting for the rest of the results, and then we meet again.  That was it!  It was nothing to get my blood pressure up over.

Oh!  Except for the part where we were on our way out through the lobby and I recognized someone.  I saw the look of horror on her face and I pretended that I didn't see her.  She did the same.  I have yet to understand the shame attached to infertility, but maybe that will be part of this journey as well.

Mr. Right is SO alright!

When we had our first SA things didn't go so well... let's just say a do over was necessary.  The do over has been done and the results are in.  My man is a serious stud.  He has an all clear on the fertility front.  I'm so relieved.  I didn't want this to be a "male factor" issue.  I know Mr. Right and I don't want him to carry that around.  So we are happy as pigs in slop tonight.  It's been a good day!

Onward and upward!

So much for all that time not making a baby

Imagine you are me.  A short, generally happy girl from the midwest.  You went to Catholic school and in Catholic school you get "Family Life" in the 5th grade.  That's your sex ed.  "Family Life."  You watch a movie about making pancakes that somehow teaches you about your period and mimes on a filmstrip tell you about puberty.  You and your friends giggle your way through the textbook and at the end, you are as educated as you're gunna get... until you get to high school.  You ended up in public high school.  The putting condoms on bananas with the pregnant girl sitting next to you kind of public high school.  In high school, you're told that it only takes one time and it only takes one sperm.  By the end of high school, you're pretty sure that looking at a boy might get you pregnant. 

You go to college and dutifully take your pills.  You go to graduate school, not worried about your fertility.  After all, according to US Weekly, women get pregnant in their 30s and 40s all the time.  You've got a career to build.  Might as well get your doctorate and keep popping those pills.  You get your career on track and keep trying to find Mr. Right in your spare time.  Your friends are popping out babies like it's going out of style so when you do find Mr. Oh So Right, you assume it will be just as easy for you.  But for some reason, it's not.  After a lot more than one try and plenty more than one sperm, you still don't have a baby.

You start trying to time things.  Then you buy the basal thermometer and miscellaneous things to pee on.  Your uber-fertile friends are handing out advice like "just relax" and telling you that you're over reacting, but you know something is wrong.  So you call that Reproductive Endocrinologist Dr. Google told you to go see.  That guy takes one look at your meticulously kept temperature charts and says that you probably suck at ovulating.  Well, not in so many words, but that's what you hear.  Next thing you know, you're asking your boss if you can sneak out of the office for blood draws on very specific days of the month and trying to support your husband in his own humiliation.  All because you have a primal, indescribable urge to make a baby with that man you love so much and hate to see in pain.  It all makes you examine life in a way you never really thought about.  So what do you do between humiliating tests and more waiting?  You write a blog.  You know - become one of those weird blog writing people.

Welcome to our life.