And now a break from the hiatus...

Sorry for the lack of blogginess lately.  There have been a series of personal crises in my life in the past week or so, and the resulting stress (combined with a nasty lingering head cold for my little one and I) have put posting on the backburner.  Probably won't be writing much for a while until some of the issues are resolved, but I can give you a couple of brief updates on what's going on.

Read more »

I just don't like your uterus...

This past Thursday, after much encouragement (and, okay, nagging), I finally called my OB-GYN to schedule a preconception visit or, as I call it, a why-can't-I-get-pregnant appointment.

To my surprise, they had an opening available just a week later, this coming Thursday.  I wasn't prepared to be coming in so soon.

I also wasn't prepared for the forms the scheduling nurse told me to fill out ahead of time, and couldn't understand why she told me I might want to go ahead and get started.  What?  I couldn't just fill out their little questionnaire in the waiting room?

No, not so much.  I had to log on to the clinic website and fill out roughly seven pages of highly detailed medical (and some not-medical information).  They asked everything.  They wanted to know my sexual orientation, and my partner's sexual orientation.  (Maybe they get a lot of confused lesbian couples who don't know where babies come from?)  They wanted to know whether I owned or worked with cats, or had ever had chickenpox.  They wanted to know every surgery I had ever had, and every surgery my husband has ever had.  (I have no idea how the metal rods he had put in to rebuild a broken arm are affecting our fertility.)

They wanted to know everything I had eaten the prior day, and I had to resist the temptation to lie.  (I had worked through lunch, and therefore my meal plan consisted of yogurt, black coffee, and Monster energy drinks.)

In between the questions of whether I worked with hazardous chemicals, had ever been exposed to rubella, or am of Eastern European Jewish ancestry, I was really looking for a little comment or suggestion box, something that asked, "Are they any other factors that may be affecting your fertility?"  Because then I could get to what I, at least, in my uneducated opinion, believe is the real issue:  I only have one fallopian tube and half an ovary, and they're pretty much held together with my uterus via scar tissue.  But, sure, ask me some more about whether I've ever lived in Africa.

Read more »

"Young lady, are you lost? This is the fertility clinic. Planned Parenthood is across the street."

When I was last at my OBGYN's office, I informed my doctor (specialist/surgeon/only person I trust with a knife in my insides) of mine and my husband's intentions to start trying for another baby.  He told me, "If you're not knocked up in 6 months, come back and see us."  (Yeah, my old doctor was pretty casual.)

Well, here we are, 6 months, hundreds of temperature readings, pills taken, and dozens of sticks peed on later and, big surprise, I'm not pregnant.

Read more »

Why I'm a terrible patient...: Part 3

(Continued from Part 2.)

When my son and I finally got home from the hospital, I thought we were in the clear.  I had a nasty case of mastitis, but I went to the doc, got some medicine, and it cleared up, no problem.  Recovering from pregnancy was tough, but I figured it would take a while for the aches and pains to go away.

Then, right around the time my son turned 4-months-old, one day at work, I got this bad pain in my abdomen while I was standing at the register.  It kept getting worse, until I was just about doubled over, but I figured it was just a stomach bug, maybe food poisoning.  But I tried to use the restroom, and nada.  I was off the next day, so I just stuck it out for the rest of my shift.

I spent most of the next day in bed, only getting up to take care of my son.  (Fortunately, 4-month-olds are relatively low-maintenance.)  Around 2:00 that afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to give my son the attention he needed.  So I did something for the first time ever in my life.

I called my husband at work, and asked him to come home and take me to the hospital.

Read more »