Dinner, a Movie, and an Infertility Workup

Today was the big day: our first appointment with the reproductive endocrinologist after my miscarriage last month.

We’ve had quite a wait.  T. and I started trying to conceive last Spring.  That’s Spring of 2009.  Then, once we finally made the decision to seek treatment and maneuvered the referrals, waiting lists, visiting all of the clinics, choosing our RE and coming up with an appointment time when both my husband and I were actually in the same town, I found out I was pregnant.  Two days after canceling our appointment with the RE, I started to miscarry. So we waited some more.

Finally, after all of that, the husband and I sat in Dr. S’s office this afternoon, checking out her diplomas and nervously chatting about just how long it must take to acquire a medical degree, a PhD in biochemistry and board certifications in reproductive endocrinology and infertility and obstetrics and gynecology. The clinic we have chosen is attached to a medical school and teaching hospital. So, in walked a toddler resident, Dr. D., to take my history. (Seriously though, he was young. And cute. Thankfully, he soon revealed that he was 30 years old, so I didn’t feel like a complete pervert.)

After speaking with Dr. D. and Dr. S. about my history of miscarriage in excruciating detail, my husband practically high-fived Dr. D. when informed that he is considered a “proven male,” having fathered two children with no apparent problems that would affect his sperm. Since the plan is to focus on my basic tests before doing a sperm analysis on my husband, I walked and my husband swaggered to the exam room for my baseline ultrasound.

Now, I’ve been pregnant 7 times. Two of those pregnancies involved carrying a child to full term as an insulin dependent diabetic. I’ve had so many ultrasounds, I couldn’t possibly count them all.  They number in the triple digits. At least twenty or so of those have been internal ultrasounds.  (For the uninitiated, an internal ultrasound is done with a wand that looks rather like something you might purchase in a sex toy shop, only it isn’t pink and it doesn’t vibrate.) I’ve had many, many internal ultrasounds.  But never once have I had an internal ultrasound performed by a cute, male doctor younger than I am. Awkward!

In Dr. D’s defense, he was nothing but professional.  Still, I couldn’t help but ask if he planned to take me to dinner and a movie first.

Despite my wisecracks, Dr. D and Dr. S informed me that I have a “model” uterus and “beautiful” ovaries.  I’m now looking for an agent for them.  Maybe they’ll be featured in the next Look Who’s Talking movie?

The next step is an HSG next Tuesday and all of my blood work on CD3 of my next cycle. If my internal organs make it big before then, I’ll let you know!