The question I’ve been asked the most since we found out we were having problems conceiving is “how did you know there even was a problem and how are you getting through it?” And the truth is- I don’t know; something just didn’t seem right. Armed with nothing more than faith in my instincts I made an appointment with my doctor’s office knowing that there was a good chance they could turn us away since the standard period of trying is a year. I contemplated stretching the truth about how long we’d been trying but knowing that the two people you always have to tell the truth to are your doctor and your lawyer I decided honesty was the best policy. Thankfully I was listened too and my doctor ordered various tests not only for me but for my husband as well. After our tests were done and the results doled out I was told to begin to step up my exercise regimen, apparently a chunky chicken can have a hard time laying eggs, my husband was told it was time to see a urologist.
As to getting through it, we’ve been learning a lot of lessons, probably the most important lesson we’ve learned so far, unfortunately for him, came at the expense of my husband and his first urologist appointment. (When I tell you that this appointment was a roller coaster ride from start to finish I’m not exaggerating.) Assuring my husband there was no way he could possibly be the youngest man in the office-I was wrong-we were called in to see the doctor. Once in the exam room my husband began to scratch his nose the same moment thee doctor walked through the door.
“I’d love to shake your hand…if you hadn’t just been picking your nose, let’s settle for a fist bump and you can wash your hands” – this is the point where I was flat-out told I couldn’t continue this story without clearing my husband’s good, non-nose picking, name. I solemnly swear on my Oreo bag that he was not picking his nose.
Then came the awkwardness, hubby was told to drop his drawers while I did not succeed in my attempt to exit the room.
“Have you always been overweight?” said the anti-nose picking doctor
“You need to focus on organic foods and start an exercise regimen.”
(At this point I’m wishing I had made my exit, this man knows nothing about my husband! My husband probably eats better than you AND he runs about 3 miles Every. Single. Morning! While I’m ready to spout off at the mouth and tell him exactly what’s what I remembered that he’s got my husband in a very delicate position and it probably won’t do to make him upset.)
“Have you always had breast tissue?”- ANP doctor
…is this dude for real?
Now my husband’s pants are back up and we’ve (I’ve) regained my composure enough to hear him say the words ‘brain surgery’.
“You have several factors that would lead me to believe you have an overactive prolactin gland and that could be causing XYZ and contributing to your issues in getting pregnant. We typically fix this by starting with medicine but following up with a form of brain surgery; do these tests and let’s follow up in 2 months.”
As a wife these are words I’d hoped I’d never hear…at least until the life insurance papers had been signed <bad joke. The gravity of what just happened hung heavy over us as we made our way to the car. Trying to stay calm and optimistic I turned to my husband,
“So…that went well.”
“Are you upset?’
“Well I mean…”
“Are you upset because I might have bigger boobs than you or because I might have to have brain surgery?’
As we dissolved into laughter and headed on our way to Boston for the weekend we had preemptively planned in case it was good news…or bad news…I really just wanted to go to the ballet- it hit me that no matter what happens I couldn’t ask for a better teammate and if we’re going to get through this we absolutely cannot take ourselves seriously. Whenever something happens we remember that wild ride that was our first appointment and use it as our humor-filled touchstone. xo-S