55 Days – Dealing with Infertility

With this blog, I’m trying to keep a balance between keeping it real and oversharing.  It’s hard.  Sometimes good or bad things happen and I think, “does anyone care,” or “is this even worth discussing?”  Sometimes the answer to both is ‘hell no,’ but I wonder about the other times.

I’m not special, nor am I the only person to struggle with certain things – but sometimes I feel as though I am.  So if I can make one person feel not so alone, then I’ll be happy with that.

That being said, here’s some personal stuff that’s been going on…

Before, I’ve mentioned my baby fever as well as my frustrations with family, friends, and strangers asking questions about my womb at every holiday gathering.  It’s like voluntarily being on a diet with everyone asking you “why don’t you go grab a slice of that red velvet cake, it’s delicious!”  Yes, I know it is, I love red velvet cake and would like to partake, but I’m working towards a goal right now and that cake isn’t part of that plan, yet.  Back off while I angrily eat this carrot.

Stinkbrain and I have always had a timeline for starting a family.  Before we got married we decided that we wanted to get established in our careers, be debt free, get some schoolin, and see if we could keep a couple of cats alive first.  While we don’t judge others who decided differently, that was our plan.  Now that time has finally come!  SB is in his last year at Princeton and already has a job at the State Department upon graduation, hopefully (thanks, Trump).  I still haven’t been fired, and I’m working towards being able to take the IBCLCE.  We’ve paid off all of our credit card debt, have some money set aside in our 401k and have some invested in stocks.

We’re ready.

My body on the other hand? Not so much.

In the spirit of being prepared I went to get a check up.  Similarly to getting a car checked out before going on a road trip, I wanted to be sure my body was in good shape.  Since I move so often, it’s hard to keep a primary physician locked down, so I went to visit a midwife at a local gynecology clinic.  She asked the usual questions about my diet (decent), exercise (trying), and when I had my last period – 44 days.  As a teenager, I remember having irregular periods, but I’ve been on birth control all my adult life so that’s never been an issue.  Now, it raises a little red flag.

My irregular periods combined with my acne, weight gain, and depression were all indicative of a hormone imbalance so she said the last thing I expected to hear, “I’m referring you to our Reproductive Endocrinologist.”

cool. This was supposed to be easy.  She was supposed to say, “you’re good to go! Go get down with your hubby and I’ll see you later.”  But that’s not how this happened.

I waited over a month for an opening in the RE’s schedule.  SB was out of town so I went alone, full of questions hoping to get some answers.  After going over my medical and family history, he ordered up a fuck ton of blood work; we’d be checking for genetic abnormalities, hormone levels, and a series of other tests.

Fifteen (I counted) vials of blood and over $900 later (after insurance), I finally get some answers – Polycystic ovarian syndrome.

I’m glad I went to the doctor when I did, many women wait until failing to conceive after a year, or more, of trying.  Now we’re better informed on how to proceed.  I know what to research.  And I know to adjust my expectations.  It may take me years to get pregnant, or maybe it will be next month, we may need to consider IVF.  Until then, I’m going to monitor my cycles (currently 55 days and counting), and we’re going to try a few more rounds of Femara.  I’ll talk about both of those methods later.

I just wanted to share because there may be another twenty-something dealing with this.  This isn’t something that people share on Facebook or their Instagram with fun hashtags, but it’s real.

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