In my last post, I chronicled our Repeat Pregnancy Loss. There's a legitimate acronym for that...which makes me sad.
I had my first initial fertility appointment on Wednesday. I had to wake up early which I'm never a fan of. I debated on showering but then it was kind of like "Well, someone is going to be probing my lady crevasse so I should probably wash that shit." So I did. But I didn't shave my legs. Then I thought "Well, it's been a while since the ol' tree trunks were cleaned up so maybe I should do that too." So I did that too...separately. Like I took a whole 'nother shower just to shave my legs.
Girl, I am glad I did.
The week before last I had to take a class before I could see a doctor. I sat in a room with 50+ people and learned about IUI and IVF...watched a few videos on egg retrieval and what happens in the lab afterwards. It was all a lot to take in. All I could think of was "I shouldn't be here. But here I am because I can't seem to keep an embryo alive. Hopefully it doesn't come down to this, but if it does, at least I have an idea of how it works." Which was the main focus of the class. And plus, seeing all these people in the same room as me...for various reasons but all the same thing...none of us can make a baby. It was a very sobering and enlightening experience. I am not alone. The lady that ran the class is the head honcho of the clinic, accompanied by a few other doctors/nurses who's main goal in life is to help other people make babies.
Anyways.
I pretty much wasn't expecting Doctor McSteamy to walk in the door. At the very moment when he shook my hand and said "Hi, I'm the doctor," all I could blurt out was "Well I'm glad I took that second shower and shaved my legs...you're welcome."
We went through the formalities, talked about history and discussed the various reasons I keep having miscarriages. Then he asked the MOST DREADED question of them all.
"When was your last pap smear?"
The fact that I couldn't recall it meant it was probably time for one. They are THE WORST. The only one that was remotely pleasant just so happened to be a little old man who treated me as if we were just having coffee together.
"So how's your week going? You're going to feel a little pinch. Do you have any big plans for the weekend? You'll feel slightly uncomfortable for a second. So what do you do for a living? Alright almost done. So are you from around here? I grew up here annnnnd done."
The doctor excused himself and gave me one of those fancy paper gowns to wrap the bottom half in. You know, the one that's like a giant paper towel and makes you feel like you could use your whole body to wipe up a spill? Yeah that one.
After I took my fancy pants off and wrapped myself in the even fancier paper towel, the doctor came in with a joke.
"What's worse than a vaginal exam?'
I replied with "I can think of a few things, where would you like me to start?"
"You were just supposed to respond with 'What?' Anyways, the answer is TWO! Two vaginal exams."
"Fuck me running. Sorry...didn't mean for that to slip out. So I take it its time for my yearly exam?"
"Sure is..but I can do it so we can just knock it out. Your gown is on backwards. Would you like to change it around? It provides more coverage the other way."
I should state that when I'm uncomfortable...I tend to babble...make jokes and my filter is practically nonexistent. It's okay. I like myself and I'm okay with it. The only difference between being nervous and being normal is a mild case of sweating. So I responded with the first thing that came to me and prayed to little baby Jesus that the nether-regions weren't as sweaty as my armpits. Hey, at least I showered twice.
"Does it really matter how much coverage the gown has? I mean, you're already going to be in my vagina, can't really cover more than that now and that's probably the body part I'd rather not be seen. Unless it makes you uncomfortable. In that case, I'll turn it around but that means I have to get off the table."
"You can do whatever you want. I do this every day ma'am."
"I mean, I guess I don't have to be lazy. I'll turn it around. I don't care man, I just want to get this over with."
So I turned it around....like how normal people wear it I think. And it turns out, my tush ripped a giant hole in the paper towel. So much for coverage, eh? But seriously...what am I covering? My extra deep belly button?
After that debacle was finished, we moved on to the ultra sound...which informed me that I was getting ready to ovulate...and oh yeah, I have PCOS.
"Your left ovary is covered with cysts and consistent with PCOS."
"So are you telling me I have it or I'm just lucky that my ovary has a bunch of dots on it?" Then the waterworks started.
"You have it. Are you alright? Do you feel relieved? Now we have some answers."
"So that's why I've been having miscarriages?'
"More than likely not, PCOS just means you don't ovulate as often."
Unfortunately, it explains a lot of things that have been happening to me lately that are unusual. The emotions broke through the flood gates and I spent the majority of the day crying. I know it's not a death sentence and things definitely could be a lot worse, but it just made everything feel...like I climbed a big mountain....just to find out it was a hill and now there's another large mountain in front of me. Or like someone peed in my Wheaties. However, I guess if YOU HAVE to have bad news, it might suck less coming from McSteamy. I don't know...I don't have anything to compare it to.
I'm still doing my research. I literally have no idea what any of this means other than I don't ovulate as often as I'm supposed so...that's what I know. I go in at the end of this month for blood work (an A LOT OF IT), and hopefully once all that comes back, we'll figure out a game plan. This is just a small fraction of the puzzle in front of me. Hopefully by this time next year, we'll either have a baby....or I'll be incubating the start of the Riley minion army in my body.
Fingers crossed.
That's it for this edition of Riley Writes.
Xoxo
