I had my first visit with the RE yesterday (RE=reproductive endocrinologist for all of you out there who have not needed help getting knocked up).
It was...somewhat better than I expected, but still kind of a disturbing experience.
I arrived at the building almost half an hour early. I went by myself since Brian didn't want to take a day off work just to go to a consult appointment. I was okay with this...but still it would have been nice to have some company.
So, I get off the elevator and walk up to the check-in desk and immediately my Canadian nursing brain is thinking "so this is what paying for your medical care looks like". Things are all white and chrome and leather and glass and expensive looking. Humm.... I'm a staunch supporter of publicly supported medical care so my inner voice is balking at all this extravagance. But whatever...I'm here to get pregnant and at this point I would mortgage my soul to have a healthy baby, so I suck it up and get on with it.
So, I find myself sitting in their waiting room on one of their (completely unnecessary) posh leather couches (which aren't nearly as comfortable as their price tag would appear), and as I look around at the other patients I'm having a few thoughts.
Thought # 1) Wow...I must be the youngest person here by a good 7 or 8 years...I feel so out of place and my grubby work running shoes aren't helping.
Thought #2) I wonder if any of these people have a dead baby (or two or three) in their past?
Thought # 3) Huh...all of these people are having trouble getting what they want out of sex. How sad.
Thought #4) All of these people are paying to have children...something so many other people do for FREE...damn this world is unfair....
Thought # 5) What's the protocol in these waiting rooms? Is striking up a conversation with someone else while waiting a No-No? "So...why are you here? Oh your husband has a sperm count just shy of zero and your eggs are aging by the second...how nice...want to see pictures of my dead son? He was my first and only fertility failure so far. Nice weather we've been having, isn't it?"
And then my name was called...
The appointment itself was pretty standard. The fellow (the doctor in training who does all the grunt work of interviewing the patient and taking the medical history) goes over all my gynecological history (yawn) and fertility history (action packed, with a side of drama and gore). She was REALLY compassionate and nice about my poor little dead Aidan which I was extremely grateful for. I was easily able to answer all the questions she asked (probably in more detail than she wanted), since I'm kind of anal retentive about my health that way (yes the first time the subchorionic hemorrhage was discovered it measured 2.1cm x 1.7cm x 0.9cm...would you care for a diagram?)
Then she states that based on my medical history she doesn't see us having any problems getting pregnant again, and if we want to do so quickly she would be happy to offer us IUI (Intrauterine insemination, AKA artificial insemination) anytime we want (to the tune of $675 a pop!). She discounts all of the spotting that I have prior to my periods and says that "oh, we don't usually worry about spotting" (I think I will bring this up again at my next appointment because it's what REALLY REALLY concerns me). Any who...at this point we are going to run some tests and get blood work from me and hubby and proceed from there. If things come back normal, we'll try on our own for awhile. If they come back wonky then we'll have to re-evaluate. One of those tests will be the Sonohysterogram for me (yeah! Pictures of my insides...can I get one framed??!) and the ole' sperm in a jar for the hubby (his test sounds like a hell of a lot more fun...mine involves antibiotics and Advil).
But...on the serious side...the RE did tell me that she doesn't think any added Progesterone would have saved Aidan. On the one hand, I REALLY REALLY want to believe this. It would mean that I couldn't have done anything different, it was a fluke, a terrible tragedy that no one could have for seen. His placenta was defective, causing bleeding, causing pPROM, causing lack of lung development, causing death. The end. On the other hand, I wish there was something new and different that could be added 'the next time'. I'm so terrified that there is something wrong with me that will screw up the next baby attempt.
Her parting words to me were "We'll get these tests done, and then we'll get you pregnant".
Thought # 1) Ha! I bet you say that to all the girls. I'll believe it when I see it, thanks.
Thought # 2) Um...I'd really prefer that my husband get me pregnant...but thanks for the offer.
Thought # 3) Great...but what I really want is a baby. Pregnant is only the first step in a long, long process. *Sigh*.
Oh, Aidan...if only you were here...life would be so different.
Have you had to consider (or tried) medical intervention to get pregnant? Is it as uphill as it looks from the start? Did it make you feel hopeful or depressed? Is it weird that it's making me feel like more of a failure?