Why was leaving for the appointment today so difficult? My daughter spent the night with her little bestie and my hubby left for work way before I got out of bed. But the alarm clock radio turned on and I laid there in a little bit of shock this day had already come. The day of the appointment.. the day I would again shake hands with the doctor who helped us conceive our precious daughter five and a half years ago. I was about to ask him to help us again and suddenly I was a nervous wreck.
I left the house, finally, after checking and double checking everything I'd need with me. It felt like I was in a rush, stuck in slow motion, and unable to focus all at the same time. It is an hour drive to the infertility clinic and I needed COFFEE. Once that magic cup from Tim Horton's curled my hand I started to feel normal again.
The outside of the clinic beckoned like deja vu. Nothing had changed in five and a half years. I got my phone out and took a picture of the entrance while still sitting in the car. Getting out of the car would mean I was ready to start this process again. I thought about cancelling the appointment while sitting in their parking lot. Deep breath. I opened the door.
The wait in the lobby was so quick I didn't have time to finish filling out the paperwork. The nurse led me down the hallway and into a little room. She did a weight check and took my blood pressure. Both were good. (Thank goodness I lost all those extra pounds after having my daughter!) The nurse told me the doctor would be right with me and to stay in the stats room.
Less than a minute later, a handsome older doctor poked his head in the room, asked my name, then led me across the hall into his office. My first reaction to the doctor introducing himself was confusion. Then it clicked.. I'm older now.. 35.. And that is why this doctor was asking me questions. While he was introducing himself he mentioned he was a high risk o.b. He asked to go over my history together before talking with the infertility doc. I told him everything I could remember.. the surgery, the testing, all nine donor IUIs, the third producing a nonviable pregnancy lost at 11 weeks. And the ninth IUI, a beautiful, healthy baby girl. Sitting across a desk from him, my information spread out before us, it felt more like a job interview than a health history discussion. His questions were paused while he wrote down what seemed like everything I said. My answers were greeted with follow up questions and more scribbles. Finally, it was my turn. I asked questions about the chances of multiples and confessed anxiety over too many babies. (Apparently though, there is only a 1% chance of triplets. Good to know. Thanks Doc.) I asked questions about risks and his qualifications. Happy with the candidate we found in each other, he walked with me into the next office, the anticipated infertility doctor's office, and sat down in one of the three chairs.
My fertility doctor looked exactly the same as I remembered him. He shook my hand and I thanked him several times for all he had done for me, my husband, and our families. Our daughter is a Blessing, she is my sunshine, and I love being her Mommy. The doctor spoke as methodically as he had when finally he assured me I had a healthy pregnancy after so many years of effort. He has to close his eyes and speak precisely when he is explaining a procedure or trying to get a thought just right, and I've come to find comfort in such thoughtfulness. We all sat together and started coming up with the game plan. It felt good to have 'a team' of doctors (2) working with me. I left the office 45 minutes after arriving with a timeline graph in my hand, a prescription already sent in, and confident I had made the right decision opening my car door.
Next on the agenda: tests.
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