It's My Blog and I'll Talk About It If I Want To

Welcome to my journal, my place for family, faith, humor, life-changing memories. I write about my husband, my dog, my job, things that I like, and things that frustrate me, like the woman I work with who curses in the workplace. I write to inspire and encourage, to make you think and make you laugh.

I've said before that this is not my sounding board for fertility issues, and while I have tried to limit what I say here (with the exception of the past couple weeks), the reality is that my life the past few weeks has been about our fertility journey and working 60 hours a week . It's hard to write about my life but avoid certain topics for fear of seeming conceited, but then I would have nothing to talk about I would be lying to myself and denying myself the support I know ya'll can provide.

So here's the story.

In mid-April, I went in for my annual exam, which has got to be comparable to death by stoning. I discussed with my doctor that Aaron and I have been trying to conceive for going on 6 months, and while I wasn't worried it wouldn't happen, I was a little concerned that for as many ovulation tests I had taken, I had never been able to detect the hormone that indicates ovulation (LH Surge). She suggested a "21 day draw", which would determine the levels of progesterone my body generates or produces or gives off or something. Just 48 hours after my blood test, a nurse called to tell me that my levels were low, and the doctor wanted to start me on Clomid. I said okay, thinking all the while that I was going to research alternatives to this medicine because I don't want to have the side effects that will make my husband want to leave me. I certainly wouldn't get pregnant that way.

Ahem.

Anyhow, that same night when I got home, there was a letter in the mail from my doctor, the results from my test the week before. The letter had mulitple lines available for the office to check, from "Everything is fine" to "PLEASE CALL US BEFORE YOUR UTERUS FALLS OUT" and for the first time ever, I had the "PLEASE CALL US BEFORE YOUR UTERUS FALLS OUT" line checked. My heart instantly sank, and I had nightmares about what could be wrong. This is not the place for me to go into my past (that may actually require multiple posts), but I will just say that had I never expected to see any lines marked, other than "okay" and I certainly hadn't expected to see them after I turned 25. Things like "this" won't happen to "me". Of course!

When I called the next day, the nurse was very sweet in telling me that there had been some abnormal cells found during my visit, and the doctor wanted to see me. As if being violated once a year isn't already enough, I scheduled an appointment, and didn't even have to beg Aaron to come along.

The procedure itself wasn't terrible, although I did squeeze Aaron's hand pretty tight, and my doctor mentioned that I'll be a terriffic candidate for an epidural - that she will be able to administer in my fourth month of pregnancy. I couldn't hide the fact that I am a baby, and I have no pain tolerance.

During the appointment last week, she was able to tell me that my risk for cervical cancer is very low. She was not, however, able to rule out other cervical issues, which may or may not be related to my difficulty conceiving thus far. The test results will be back this Friday or next Monday.

When I said this was not my sounding board, I intended to keep it that way. Unfortunately, or not, life happened, and if I was going to continue posting about the things that matter to me, I couldn't avoid letting you know where I've been!

Look for an uplifting picture post soon!