In brief: I am polyp-free. The procedure itself was slightly more
But it gets better. We were actually called into the exam room by the very doctor who I was waiting to be referred to for further investigations on the recurrent pregnancy loss front. (In my experience with such procedures in the UK you don't get anywhere near a doctor, so I was pleasantly surprised off the bat). So far, I have to say I like this doctor very much. He asked us if we wanted to begin with that consultation for RPL as well, since we were already there 'and it saves you a trip'. He then spent the better part of an hour with us, going over our history, the risk factors we might be looking for, what procedures they will undertake to investigate those, and answering all our accumulated neurotic and random questions. He is a high risk OB/GYN, and he thinks our case is best dealt with by their clinic, but he also made a referral to their partners in the sub-fertility clinic 'just to rule everything out and put your mind at ease'. How lovely is that? He had a very calm, clinical approach, but he referred to all my pregnancies as involving babies, and not 'products of conception' or 'tissue'. According to him, since my progesterone levels are consistently strong, there is no reason for worry as yet about my LH levels this past cycle, and said that 38 is still a 'very healthy, perfect age' for having a baby. When our consultation was over and he had removed the polyp, he personally walked us all the way to the phlebotomy lab where we had our blood drawn. This guy gets lots of points for approach and effort and awareness so far. H and I both felt listened to, reassured and genuinely cared for, and that makes all the difference in our feelings of optimism for this road we're walking.
We both left with a renewed sense of direction and calm, and for however long that lasts (see all the previous posts I've ever written on that likelihood), we'll take it. I said as much to H, that - based on what the doctor had said - I feel renewed in my determination to carry on carrying on for now and try to see no reason why things might not, for once, swing our way after all this time. H pointed out that this had been his message all along and that he was glad I was at least willing to listen to someone. Well yes, while I appreciate - indeed, crave - his optimism and certainty, it is also nice to hear those messages of reassurance from someone with training in something other than, er...political science.
And just like that, my birthday is around the corner. Last year, we were still living in Portugal, and we celebrated here, eating freshly caught fish al fresco and swimming outdoors. In March. (I really miss that place).
Of course I had no idea then that a whole year would pass and we'd be...I am tempted to say 'no closer to where we want to get', but when I think about it, there are so many ways in which that's not true. No, we still aren't parents to a living baby. But we're more solid in our determination as a couple to achieve that goal than we have ever been. We both know where we want to go, even if we're not there yet. And maybe, medically speaking, we're even going to get some of the support we need.
So for now at least, my duvet diving days are on hold, not least because we have more than a week of travels and visits and lovely cultural enjoyments to take in. This evening my mother arrives to join us for a celebration of my actual birthday, which will be spent here enjoying four days of long coastal walks, windswept beaches, fresh seafood, exploring castle ruins, and dinner in a real treehouse. After that, we're home for scarcely a day before heading out once again, just the two of us, to partake of some more urbane pleasures, the details of which remain a carefully guarded mystery to me, but which will involve three nights in London, likely visits to galleries, probably (if I have anything to do with it), a stroll through one of my favourite places to hang out in the whole city, and certainly prosecco.
H's penchant for meticulously planned decadent surprises remains unstoppable. When, post-freak out last week, I told him I didn't want to celebrate my birthday this year, as I was starting to see it as nothing more than a cruel reminder of what we haven't managed to achieve, he replied that we don't need to make it about birthdays or the progression of time at all, but that he wants the opportunity to stop the clocks, be in the present, and celebrate me.
And if I intend to stick with the attitude I embraced post-hospital yesterday, I suppose there is nothing wrong with the enjoyment of some very grown-up pleasures and moments of joy (I have to work harder to stay true to the header of this blog), especially as jungle time will definitely fall in this period, and there's always the hope that such grown-up jaunts may become a thing of the past for us in the not-too-distant future.
Friends, thank you for all your kind words and thoughts through this tough past week. Your lovely, warm messages of camaraderie and understanding allowed me to feel very much buoyed, and a little bit less crazy in my moments of melodrama. I hope that whatever you have planned this weekend, it includes brief moments of joy, opportunities to stop the clock and celebrate you. Because I think you're pretty awesome.
* I am sure you'll think I'm ridiculously melodramatic for spending as much time in print as I have on this topic. You'd be right, but in the absence of anything resembling even the hint of the promise of a future baby on what might otherwise be considered a ttc blog, perhaps I felt obliged to discuss lady parts. I know that a lot of you lament the lack of education we otherwise highly educated women have about our own bodies, but I for one really really wish I wasn't this interested in my own cervix. Just saying.