We started with a full history. Dr. B's P.A. went through it with us. Then Dr. B came in to talk to us. I really like him. He's warm and intelligent and takes the time to talk us through things.
He wanted to start out with an ultrasound. Date number two with dear old Wanda. I didn't mind because it sounded like good news. No cysts. He could see my follicles - I was close to ovulating. And no, I do not call them follies. Follies are acts of foolishness. Too cutsie for me by far.
Anyways he couldn't see anything to explain my failure to get pregnant. So of course, we set an appointment for the next step - the HSG.
I know we had only been trying for 8 months or so at that point. But I was so impatient. I still am. But at this point, I was still in denial. I just kept telling myself it was normal for it to take that long to get pregnant. Besides, I had no forewarning that getting pregnant would be a problem, other than my age. I was an on-the-dot menstrauter. Yes, I'm making up that word. Every month, regular as clockwork. The only times my period was late were moments I was under incredible stress - at boot camp (I was in the Marine Corps Reserves for 6 years), the month of my wedding, etc.
A lot of my friends who had trouble had plenty of warning. Irregular periods, hormone problems, etc. Not me. I hated my period but always went through it with the attitude that it was a badge of my fertility - a symbol of my ability to have children someday. And I always wanted children - longed for them. So onto the next step - the HSG. Wherever this journey went, I was determined to follow it through until we reached our goal.
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