I gave us one full year. 12 months of trying before I went to my OB/GYN, (who is AMAZING!!! LOVE her!!) Dr. B.
I had read the blogs . . . 12 months and no baby? You need help. I wanted help.
The Mister wasn't 100% bought into the idea that we needed help yet, but I was on a Koala mission.
We needed help.
Dr. B refered me to Fertility Clinic A. A HUGE organization with at least four offices in the area. Huge. I went, met with the doctor who specialized in PCOS. She knows her stuff. Everyone in that place knows their stuff. They are good. They make babies. They make lots of babies. They will help you make a baby . . . if you fit in their neat little box.
I didn't fit in their neat little box.
After a year with them, it wasn't working. We were nowhere closer to a Koala. And there wasn't anything else they were wielding to help us with.
It was time to move on.
Thanks to Dr. B, we found Fertility Clinic B . . . and were once again one day closer to a Koala adventure.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Waiting Game
Waiting. Waiting for the call that will schedule the next step in this adventure.
Two days ago I had an appointment with the chief OB/GYN at a world renowned local hospital, Dr. H. He was nice. Straight to the point and nice. The Mister liked him, so it was good. He did another ultrasound and compared his findings to those reported by Fertility Clinic A and Fertility Clinic B. (which reminds me, I should introduce you to Fertility Clinic A and Fertility Clinic B).
George has grown but a couple of centimeters in the past thirteen months. And he is sitting on top of my ovary (or maybe the fallopian tube and maybe he isn't even attached, we don't really know). Turns out, due to his size and his location, it is very possible he could torque my ovary which would result in LOTS of pain, emergency surgery and quite possibly losing the ovary all together. Not a good situation. The consensus is that he most definitely needs to come out. And the sooner, the better.
Then there is the fibroid. Let's call him Fibroid Frank. Frank has also grown. He is right up against my uterus. Dr. H was a little iffy as to whether or not Frank needed to be removed, but later, with a clearer ultrasound, it was suggested that he come out too. He is pushing on my uterus, which if we have to move to IVF, Frank can't be there. HOWEVER . . . removing Frank will mean 100% without a doubt, I will need a c-section. That was not in my plans. That was a devastating turn of events. Not the end of the world, but not what I wanted to hear.
So now I am waiting. Waiting to schedule the surgery that will bring us one step closer to the finish line.
Surgery is scary. I have never gone under for anything before. I have never been to the hospital for myself. This is a whole new ball game for me and I am scared. What if this surgery makes things worse? What if another cyst takes the place of George? What if, what if, what if? I could what if this forever . . .
Two days ago I had an appointment with the chief OB/GYN at a world renowned local hospital, Dr. H. He was nice. Straight to the point and nice. The Mister liked him, so it was good. He did another ultrasound and compared his findings to those reported by Fertility Clinic A and Fertility Clinic B. (which reminds me, I should introduce you to Fertility Clinic A and Fertility Clinic B).
George has grown but a couple of centimeters in the past thirteen months. And he is sitting on top of my ovary (or maybe the fallopian tube and maybe he isn't even attached, we don't really know). Turns out, due to his size and his location, it is very possible he could torque my ovary which would result in LOTS of pain, emergency surgery and quite possibly losing the ovary all together. Not a good situation. The consensus is that he most definitely needs to come out. And the sooner, the better.
Then there is the fibroid. Let's call him Fibroid Frank. Frank has also grown. He is right up against my uterus. Dr. H was a little iffy as to whether or not Frank needed to be removed, but later, with a clearer ultrasound, it was suggested that he come out too. He is pushing on my uterus, which if we have to move to IVF, Frank can't be there. HOWEVER . . . removing Frank will mean 100% without a doubt, I will need a c-section. That was not in my plans. That was a devastating turn of events. Not the end of the world, but not what I wanted to hear.
So now I am waiting. Waiting to schedule the surgery that will bring us one step closer to the finish line.
Surgery is scary. I have never gone under for anything before. I have never been to the hospital for myself. This is a whole new ball game for me and I am scared. What if this surgery makes things worse? What if another cyst takes the place of George? What if, what if, what if? I could what if this forever . . .
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