Our First Time....

So the day arrived for our first appointment at the fertility clinic.  I was super nervous but excited. So much so that I almost had a nervous break down the night before and got very little sleep. I left work early that day and met my husband at home. There, he was able to take a refreshing nap while I watched back-to-back “A Baby Story” episodes and tried to hold back tears as the women featured gave birth.

PS - Why do I always cry during these shows? I don’t know these women from Jack and yet I find myself crying hysterically each time one of them gives birth. Sigh.

But I digress. We arrived at the clinic and settled in to wait for the doctor. We were quickly summoned and led to his office. I swear I heard angels singing in the background as I shook his hand. I was just so excited to meet someone who I felt would be able to answer some questions for us. But first HE had a ton of questions for us. He asked us about our general health (thankfully we are both pretty healthy), lifestyle, and family history. I explained my issue with my period being MIA for most of the last 8 months. I also explained the normal ultrasound and elevated testosterone levels from this past summer. He explained that he would run his own tests including an ultrasound that he would conduct next.

So I was led to an examination room where I had my first up-close-and-personal experience with a male doctor. And I must admit…<drum roll, please>…that it wasn’t that bad. It was actually quick and painless. The doc then conducted the ultrasound which very quickly confirmed my fear: cysts…and lots of them.

A part of me was happy because I finally knew for sure that something was wrong. I know that sounds crazy, but I’d rather know what exactly that “something” is than sit around and let my body “just do its thing” like many people recommended I do. So I was somewhat relieved that this doctor was so quickly able to get straight to the nitty-gritty. He also recommended some blood work, a glucose test, and a semen analysis from my husband. The results of all the tests would be discussed at our next appointment in two weeks.

In the meantime, the most unpleasant part of the visit was actually getting my blood drawn. A nurse who swore up and down that she was an OR nurse and was simply here “helping out” proceeded to poke me (Ms. Panic-at-the-sight-of-blood-needles-etc) several times before finally drawing 8 tubes of blood from the side of my wrist of all places.

Apparently all my veins are on the side of my wrist.

And then it was all done. I left the clinic feeling surprisingly happy because it was a very productive appointment. I got the answer I needed (“Yes, you do have cysts”), we found the doctor and staff to be very pleasant (Yes, even the evil nurse who gave me a black-and-blue as a souvenir), and found a new sense of hope that maybe I can be fixed.

Ouch.