This is Part 2 of the post I wrote yesterday. For an introduction and explanation, or to read Part 1, click here.
For almost two months, I pretended it wasn’t an issue anymore. It still came up now and then, this question of whether we’d ever have a baby or not, but infertility became the depressing background music of my life rather than my personal theme song.
Finally, near the end of August, I knew I had to quit stalling. I felt very strongly that it was time again for action. I called a fertility clinic to set up a new patient consultation. The soonest available appointment wasn’t for another three weeks, but I didn’t care. After more than two years of waiting, what was a few more weeks? We were to meet with the doctor on September 16th, the Monday after our anniversary. It would be perfect; we’d be able to celebrate by going out of town for the weekend and when we got home we’d get a fresh start at this whole baby making business.
But, much as I claimed otherwise, I was hesitant to go to the clinic. I was terrified of what we might find out. As long as we didn’t know for sure what the problem was, there was the possibility that it could be fixed. Identifying the cause of our infertility could close the door on our chances completely. Ignorance is bliss, right?
Still, we went. We knew we had to get some real answers in order to move forward with our family. We reviewed our respective medical histories with the doctor, answered some questions, and then I had an ultrasound.
I remember thinking before we left the house how silly we would feel if, when they did the ultrasound, they found a baby in there. After all, it had been over two months since my last period. Chances were pretty slim that I’d ovulated without the help of drugs, though, and I had no symptoms to indicate that I could be pregnant. Still, I thought, wouldn’t it be funny if…
They didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Just your run-of-the-mill internal girly parts. All healthy and normal and baby free.
After the ultrasound, the doctor sat down with us to discuss our options. We decided to try a new drug for three months. After that, we planned to look into more tests. It seemed like the least invasive, least expensive way to go. So the doctor wrote me a prescription and some instructions. As we were leaving her office, she mentioned in passing that I might want to take a pregnancy test, just in case. This drug could cause birth defects if used during pregnancy, and while she was relatively certain that I wasn’t carrying a fetus, it couldn’t hurt to double check. I thanked her for the heads up and we left.
I don’t know why I waited so long, but it was several days before I finally figured I should head to the pharmacy to get my new meds. I also remembered what the doctor had said, so I grabbed a pregnancy test from the medicine cabinet (I had several conveniently on hand) and peed on it.
Within seconds, a little plus sign showed in the window.
I was pregnant.
Holy cow! That's crazy! I can't wait to read the rest.