Scheduled an appointment with my doctor for today, to discuss this whole WHY AM I NOT PREGNANT? thing. You know, calmly and rationally, with no shouting and very few capital letters. I asked a few questions, she shrugged her shoulders a few times, then went through the standard rundown of questions:
Are you keeping track of your cycles? Are you having regular cycles? Describe them (uhhh okay)? Are you taking your temperatures? Do you know what that means? Are you ovulating? Do you know what THAT means?
I’m like check, check, check, sure, yes, absolutely, I could tell you more about charting than you already know, check, true, false, exactly. And she says okay, well maybe you have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I say NOPE – wouldn’t I have symptoms? Irregular cycles? A little pain? Some track record somewhere of wonky hormones? But hey, I’ll go for the ultrasound if you think it’ll help. Rule some things out.
Next thing she tells me is that she’s referring me to a Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) at a fertility clinic in a nearby city. That they’ll run all manner of tests and that it will cost a bloody FORTUNE. You know, if insurance doesn’t cover it. Which, who really knows, right?
Google is my enemy when it comes to things like these. Because instantly, my head begins whirling with questions. Do I want monitored cycles? Will I take fertility drugs? How far will I go? Is IVF too far? What about IUI? What’s natural? What’s totally irrational? And above all else, what is God’s plan for this situation?
All of these thoughts before I’ve even been given a referral to this RE. All of these thoughts before anything has been tested or ruled out. All of these thoughts before I even know if I’m pregnant this month or not.
Will someone talk me down from this ledge I’m clinging to?