After my first miscarriage, I knew that I needed a doctor and practice that I could trust and rely on. I was so disgusted by the care, or lack thereof, which I received that I switched my insurance completely. I left the policy that I had and joined my husband's.
I was excited to get into a practice that I heard numerous great things about. Though I couldn't schedule an appointment with the doctor I was wanting, I was told that the doctor available was equally as wonderful. I had my first appointment, a regular gynecology check up, in October of 2021.
If you are a woman, then you know that these appointments are never long. You get in, they do their thing, and you leave. At this particular appointment, I actually felt seen and heard.
Since this was my first appointment with this doctor, she went over my chart to get some background. She mentioned that she worked with my prior doctor and excitedly asked if I liked her.
Cue the waterworks.
If you've read my previous fertility posts, you know that my defense mechanism with trauma is to block it from my memory. I was suddenly reminded that I had a miscarriage and that I felt severely neglected as a patient and as a human being.
Now, when I say "reminded" I don't mean that I forgot. You don't forget something like that. But I was reminded of my pain, the one that I had been suppressing since the miscarriage happened back in March.
The receptionist that scheduled my appointment was right. This doctor was wonderful. She not only listened to my story, but asked if she could relay my story, anonymously of course, to my prior doctor. She was appalled and outraged for me, and I felt like I finally had someone in my corner.
To top it off, she had given me a plan. At this point it had been 5 months of trying post miscarriage with no success. She wanted me to try one more month before going for testing.
The next month came with no pregnancy and I was quickly given an appointment to have a hysterosalpinogram (HSG), an x-ray procedure to determine if my fallopian tubes were open and my uterus was normal.
I'm sure the entire procedure took maybe 10 minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. (PS. It seems simple, and it is simple. But it is not pleasant!) Even worse was the finding. There was a blockage to my left tube. I felt like I had just been served a death sentence.
True, that statement might seem a bit dramatic. But that's how I felt. I was shattered. I felt hopeless and worthless as a woman. What if I couldn't give my husband a family, one that I knew he so deserved?
It was apparent to my doctor that I wasn't in a state of mind to discuss further action plans, so she said she would call me the next day to go over my results and options.
As promised, the next day I received her follow-up phone call. What she had to say only made me feel worse.
She started off by telling me that there was blockage to my left tube and then asked me questions like, "Have you ever had an STD?" Umm, no? Not that I'm aware of?! "You would know if you did. Do you have painful periods?" No. "Do you have heavy/irregular periods?" No. "Hmm. It seems like you might have endometriosis even though you don't show signs of any symptoms." Neat.
She continued, "So, there are a couple of different options for us to move forward. One is IVF and the other option is surgery to remove the blocked tube." Surgery?! I was not expecting that!
"I know that sounds a little scary, but we do this procedure all the time."
Once again I found myself in this whiplash of new information and emotions. And once again, my doctor was great. She told me to take my time thinking things over and that she would be more than happy to have this conversation again with my husband on the line. So, we scheduled a conference call to do just that.
After Joe and I both asked the doctor questions and voiced our concerns, we felt comfortable to move forward with the surgery.
It wasn't an easy decision for me to make, as I had never had surgery before. Furthermore, surgery seemed so drastic. I was opting to remove a part of me that, though wasn't working optimally, was otherwise not doing me harm. I felt like I was sabotaging my body and that didn't feel good. However, I wanted a child and given my two options, the surgery was the best option.
The surgery was scheduled for March. Oddly, almost exactly one year from the miscarriage.
This is only part of my fertility story. To hear more, please follow me on social media (IG: @ama_raquel) or sign up for my biweekly newsletter for more blog updates. You can also hear more about my story and other incredible women's journey by signing up for the free online event, The Joy of Sunflowers: Sisterhood Through Infertility and Pregnancy Loss. This event will be held May 6-8, 2023.