“I’m sorry to say that since you have been trying for over a year, that means we are looking at a case of infertility.”
There it was.
The “I” Word.
Glaring at me from the other corner. Knocking its gloves together. Staring me down with a smirk, thinking I was going to be an easy KO…
It really wasn’t a surprise. I knew when we walked into the appointment that we would have to put our brave faces on. I smiled weakly and nodded my head to show that I understood. I knew this was officially where the fight would begin.
But I’m ready.
The entire appointment wasn’t too bad. This was my first visit to a Military Treatment Facility, so it was a little unsettling at first to have Doc walk into the room in ACU’s. I like him though.
The actual “exam” portion of the day only took a few minutes and was (thankfully) uneventful. Then he took the time to talk to me about where we were with TTC, and immediately told us what our next steps were going to be. He was understandably concerned when I explained how irregular (and abnormally long) my periods are, and said that I can expect plenty of lab work so we can find out the cause. First things first though: a SA for the hubs to rule out any problems from his end. (and hubs is just so excited about that, too…not.)
I also brought up the fact that I have been trying to lose weight but results have (and always have been) slow and frustrating, even with experimenting with a vegetarian diet and hitting the gym almost every day. So Doc wants me to make an appointment with a nutritionist to find out if there’s anything more I can do. (I didn’t fess up about the cheesecake I had to scarf down just to work up the nerve to face him, buuuut… I don’t make a habit of that so it can just be our little secret, ok? 😉 )
He was glad to hear that I’ve been taking my prenatal vitamins and offered to put in a prescription for them. When I asked if the prescription version was better than over-the-counter, he replied, “Well, no, but they’re free.” Like I said, I like him. He gets me. By the time the appointment was over, I felt like I was in good hands.
As we were heading back to the car, I couldn’t help but notice that I was feeling more optimistic than I had in a long long time. No more pity party!
I’m officially climbing into the ring with infertility.
I am going to fight. Hard.
And I’m going to win.
I got this.