Breaking Down a Few Walls (Part IV)

Picking right back up where we left off yesterday:


Please No. Please Not Again.

Flash forward once more, this time to June of 2009: While at my parents house for the summer, I realize that my period is three weeks late. My period is never late. Never, ever, ever, ever. Not since that one time way back when I was 19-years-old. I was fairly certain that I was NOT pregnant, but I took an at home pregnancy test just-in-case. It was negative. Of course.

I begin Googling possible explanations and make an appointment to see my new-er primary care physician. I have seen her the last few years and I just LOVE her. However, I could not get into see her for two weeks. So, I take an appointment with her Nurse Practitioner which is one. long. week. out.

The anxiety over the next week is excruciating. My boyfriend is over in Eastern Europe for the summer, and just left two weeks prior. Our phone calls and e-mails are limited. I decide not to tell him anything until I know what is going on. Remember, he is younger than me. What if I am pregnant? I can not spring that possibility on him while he is over in Gur-freak-istan...or wherever the hell is is today. Wait, what if I am NOT pregnant?

Maybe my brain tumor has grown? Maybe it has become cancerous? Do I have brain cancer? Maybe I have another tumor somewhere else? No. No. Maybe I am just stressed? Have I been exercising too hard? Maybe my hormones have pushed me into an early menopause? What if I have Ovarian Cancer? Do I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome? Maybe I am just pregnant?...

For the first time in my life, I pray to God that I am just pregnant. Despite my fears of ruining my boyfriend's life (Btw, I think it is high time he is referred to by his name...I will call him Andrew from now on...) Putting quite a wrench in my own life, too...

So? Who cares? So what!? I would rather have a child now conceived out of wedlock, than learn in five years that I am too late.

I begin researching the statistical probability of a pregnancy resulting from perfect condom use with no visible sign of failure (Anonymous blog: YES!). Based on my findings, I convince myself that statistically, there is enough of a chance for it to be probable.

Day of Appointment

I have been having acid reflux for the first time in my life. I have been sick the last week, (mostly from fear and anxiety) but maybe it is a combination of that and morning sickness? Oh dear god, please just let me be pregnant. Please. I can not take something else going wrong.

On the exam table the very lovely Nurse Practitioner and I discuss the medical hell that has been my adult life.

"I wonder if she thinks it is strange that I seem to be pushing the pregnancy idea more than the other options?" I think to myself. I know she can clearly see there is not a ring on that finger of mine.

After the physical exam, she concludes that my uterus does not look any larger than normal. But draws blood to test HCG anyway.

She asks me which other blood tests I want run, and she begins to check boxes on the lab sheet based on what she knows about my history.

"Can we just draw a big fat line through all of the boxes on the lab request form?" I ask her. "I can't take another few months of not knowing what I am in for." I conclude.

She smirks. "Let's just start with most of the Pituitary hormones...things for PCOS."

"NOOOOOOOOO!" I scream inside my head in horror. "NOT PCOS!" I follow far to many infertility blogs who disclose the dreaded "PCOS' as the reason for their empty arms.

Two days later, lab results come back (Yes. They are super quick. I love them).

Pregnancy: Negative.

Pituitary Hormones: F-ed up. In my medical history, this is the first time that hormones other than Prolactin are outside the normal range.

My Doctor's Diagnosis:.....PCOS

*Cue whimpering sobs inside my head*

Over the phone my Doctor requests I come back into the office for one more test: Glucose fasting to test for insulin resistance (common in PCOS patients).

For me, the insulin resistance testing came back negative... for now.

"Will I be able to have Children?" I ask my doctor after she has given me all the test results.

She laughs. "I wouldn't wait too long." She said. "Listen, no one knows for sure how much time someone has before they are infertile. So I would say, don't wait too long."

She flips to the front of my chart in order to verify my birth date..."I would say: don't wait more than 5 years to start trying because you will probably need some medical help to get your hormone levels just right. If you really want a number, I would say you have around 4-8 years left. Plenty of time." She smiles, thinking she has reassured me.

But I am FREAKING out inside.

"4-8 years left?!?" I think to myself. I can feel my lungs beginning to fight for air. "I am not even married yet. I am not even engaged yet. 4-8 years left!"

My heart sinks.

(Not my cat.
However, now that I've seen this maybe I could borrow my sister's cat for alittle bit tomorrow...)

Andrew

When I finally told Andrew about this hellish ordeal it rushes out of my mouth in a bitter, wounded, and dysfunctional diatribe. Even though I created most of the inner turmoil and loneliness myself by withholding information from him, I feel abandoned. While I scream into the phone in an attempt to explain to him what the significance of PCOS could mean for me, he was either in a loud hostel or bar and could not really hear me (Hostel. Bar. Ya know, they're basically the same thing.)

It is certainly not the intimate conversation one would have liked to have in a situation like that. I also wrote him an extraordinarily long e-mail which explained everything, but I do not think he actually read it all. Not through fault of his own, I believe he would have taken the time to dissect my e-mail if he had been able to. But internet usage over in Gur-freak-istan is exceptionally expensive and he had limited time available as well.

Since my experience last summer, Andrew and I have talked about it all several times and tried to bury the hatchet. However, I know that I still feel bitter towards his absence. I felt so abandoned. Did he realize that this could have been the permanent nail in the coffin that was my life as a biological mother? I think he does now, but just how deeply he sympathizes with my concerns...I am not too sure.

Andrew and I have become exceptionally close after this summer. While we thought we were close before, I think that my admission of these deepest darkest fears let him have a bit more understanding of who I am as a person. And has allowed him to embrace the inner Daddy Desires he has within himself.

Thankfully, so far he responded well to my insanity.

Andrew has to have been sent by God himself. He has so much patience and understanding with people. Especially me.

Stay Tuned Tomorrow for Part V: The Conclusion

(Yes, it is already written!)