Today I went for my baseline ultrasound to make sure I didn't have any cysts from last round of clomid and to get started on the new cycle.  Today, I didn't have my classmate doctor.  I didn't have Dr. Eminem either.  Today I had a tall, nondescript, soft spoken fella.  A half a step behind was the non-muppet version of Bert (from Bert and Ernie) as his med student side kick.

As Bert furrowed his uni-brow, I managed to contort myself just enough to see the ultrasound screen.  Dr Bert didn't really use words as much as making his uni-brow into a peak in the general direction of the tall fella.  That is when I spoke up and said, "Let me guess.  That is a cyst."  And... I was right.

I was given the decision to use birth control pills to make the cyst go away and take a cycle off from the Clomid or just take a cycle off from the Clomid and let the cyst take care of itself.  I opted to just let nature take care of the cyst.  I am actually okay with this since I wasn't looking forward to another cycle of appointments, hormones, and hopes.  This way, if God intends us to get pregnant, it can still happen and I can just... wait for it.... wait for it.... relax.  Yep I said it.  This infertile girl is just going to relax and see what happens.

Plus, I have a little something else on my plate right now.  Starting Tuesday night I starting having some pretty uncomfortable back pain.  While it didn't feel good, I was confident that after a hot shower and some Icy Hot, I would be fine.  Yesterday I had to call Doug at work and ask him to come home.  Lifting Joey (who is a healthy 31+ pounds) several times a day was proving to be painful.  I was trying to be a tough girl but when Doug appeared at the door, I cried.  I was in so much pain and seeing him there was like going from survival mode to being rescued.  All of the sudden I gave myself permission to admit how much pain I was in.  It hasn't gotten any better.  In fact, each day is more pain than the last so after my ultrasound, I stopped into my General Practitioner (and family friend) to see if she could squeeze me in.  Thankfully she could, and I am now in a back brace, taking steroids, muscle relaxers and pain meds.  I am feeling artificially better but Doug is going to stay home and be Mr. Mom for the next couple of days so I can rest and hopefully be back in working order by Monday.

So, after further thought... I'm wondering if my ability to utter the words, "Just relax."  is a direct result of my medications.  I think I'm ready for a nap.

Today I went to get an ultrasound done to check to make sure I had no cysts before starting Clomid.  I knew when I made the appointment on Friday that my doctor wouldn't be the one I would see since he is only in that office on Tuesdays and Fridays.  There is a group of something like 6 doctors that work at the 3 different offices.  Dr. M is by far my favorite.  But knowing that he wouldn't be in, I started thinking about the other possible doctors.  One of the doctors is the one who gave me an ultra sound to verify that I was having a miscarriage.  His bedside manner left me in tears and his fake efforts to appear empathetic were about at believable as a obese person feeling bad for the person who "just can't gain weight".  I didn't really care who I had, as long as it wasn't him.

One of the other doctors in the practice is a young, attractive, sweet as pie girl who also happened to have gone to the same college prep boarding school as I did.  She was just a couple of grades ahead of me and in the same class as my brother.  No big deal really but it does provide an unusual experience when your doctor is really more like a peer and I cheered for her team when she played field hockey and she cheered for my team on the basketball court.  Not awkward really.  Just unique.

When I arrived at the medical building, my heart was pounding.  It was like it was finally hitting me that we were doing this.  The information I had learned about infertility, Clomid, and Reproductive Endocrinology by reading posts on message boards and having made friends with ladies traveling that road, were now becoming part of my own world.    As my head was swimming and my heart beating quickly, I soon see, just a few steps ahead of me is the girl I went to school with.  Of the options, I was pleased that it was going to be her, even if it was a little unusual.

I stepped into the elevator behind her and as she looked at me, I could tell that she knew that she knew me but was unclear how.  We made small talk and she would give a clue here and there that she had figured out who I was, but then she she started talking to me as if I were an employee.  As she realized that I was going to the same door as her, I could tell she was eager to go and look at the charts and solve the mystery.  I could hear the chatter through the glass as she must have told some of the others about her inability to place me.  I felt bad but I am still not sure how one goes about gracefully saying (in the company of others on an elevator), "I'm the one who is the little sister of your classmate. I am also a patient of Dr. M's but you are going to scan my ovaries today."

I had joined two other ladies in the waiting area and they were each called back almost immediately.  I waited quietly in the room contemplating picking up a magazine but recognized that it would probably only be a minute until I got called.  I fiddled with my purse instead.  Then, through the same door that I had just walked, came a guy in a white jacket.  I fear that there are no words that can accurately describe what I saw but I will try my best.  He looked to be about 24 years old at the absolute oldest.  His head was shaved bald and probably would not been laughed at if he auditioned to be a Calvin Klein underwear model.  But, despite being good looking, if instead of the white jacket he was wearing a baseball cap turned slightly to the side, I might have clutched my purse a little tighter.  After a brief hello and he passed through the next door, I stood to grab a tissue to stifle my almost impossible to stifle laughter.  It was hysterical to me that a really attractive young Eminem look-a-like was about to be involved in my ultrasound. 

A few moments later, my name is called.  I am lead back to the ultrasound room and undress from the waist down.  I wait with the crinkly paper sheet draped over my lap.  A minute later, in walks Dr. Classmate and Dr. Eminem.  I am introduced to Dr. Eminem and just as I had feared, I am asked if it is okay if he is in the room.  What am I supposed to say?  I say, "Sure!" but I finished the sentence in my head with, "Only if you put your hat on backward and say, 'Dawg!'"

Now all three of us are in a small room with the ultrasound machine and Dr. Classmate stands infront of the machine and hands "The Wand" to Dr. Eminem.

"Really?" I ask myself.  "A young female doctor and a pint sized rap star are in a room with a half naked infertile woman.  Who should insert the wand, do you think?"

Dr. Eminem lifts up the paper sheet to get a better view of the target and in it goes.  I am almost 90% sure that I was smiling.  Not because of the technique but of the situation and the conversation in my head.  *Note to self* Work on keeping a straight face when a wand is inserted into my vagina.  I am pretty confident that my smiling during that procedure only makes an awkward situation more awkward.

The good news is that I had no cysts on my ovaries!  Today I took my first dose of Clomid 50 mg.  I am on cycle day 4 and go back for a shot to trigger ovulation in about a week.  I am really hopeful but trying to keep it in check so that if this isn't the cycle for us, I am not completely feeling busted.  Any words of wisdom, encouragement, hope and prayers are always welcomed! 



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