I apologize for not updating this portion of my blog in awhile - a lot of stuff has happened since January, and for several months there I had no energy at all (if you read my WIPpet posts, you know why by now ;) )
The last time I left off, work had gotten new health insurance with a health insurance company I love and adore. The plan was that I would wait for the new insurance to kick in, since they covered more than my old insurance, however the husband and I would be out of town the first week in January, which would mean delaying the blood tests and MRI until February.
I was getting sick and tired of my fibroids though. It seemed like every other day one of the cats would jump on my belly and hit them, and it hurt like no tomorrow. In addition to that, it sucked not knowing if I had PCOS or something else going on. Not only was that adding to our infertility issues, but it was also putting my health at risk.
So, I decided to go in and get my blood work done in December, that way when January hit and the new insurance kicked in, I would be good to go for the MRI.
I did the first round of blood work at the beginning of December, and then the second the day before we left for our trip.
The last time my husband and I went on a vacation, I got sick with a cold the day before we left. The same thing happened this time. After getting my blood drawn I noticed that my throat was a little scratchy and had that nasty taste that always shows up right before a cold does.
My husband's parents had been sick over Christmas. Even though we had avoided them, we had stopped by briefly to drop off their presents on Christmas morning, so I assumed that I had caught their colds even though we had stayed on the porch. I spent the day chugging orange juice and soup in the hopes that I could head it off at the pass.
Unfortunately it was a no go. I spent the first day of our vacation sleeping or in a Dayquil induced stupor. This turned out to be a good thing - for the first leg of our journey we drove from LA to Redding California along the 5. If you've driven along this stretch of the 5, you know there isn't much to see except a lot of farms, orchards, cows and fields as far as the eye can see.
Thankfully that night I was able to get some more sleep, and felt much better for it. By the time we reached Washington, the cold had disappeared, and we were able to enjoy the rest of our vacation without any hiccups.
When we finally drove back home a week later, I called up my doctor to see if the blood tests had come back in. The nurse confirmed that the liver test portion of the blood tests was clear, so I was good to go for the MRI. I called up the imaging center the doctor was sending me to and was able to make an appointment for the next week.
It was around this time my husband looked at me and said, 'hey, isn't that time of the month supposed to hit soon?'
I glanced at the calendar and realized it was a day late. However, I didn't think anything of it because I had been late before. I told my husband it would probably hit on Sunday, at church, because that's what it had been doing for the past couple of months.
Then I promptly crawled into bed and passed out because I was tired. The next day I went to bed early again, and the day after that. On the fourth day my husband gave me a look and asked if I was okay or if I was still sick.
No, I'm fine, I reassured him, I was just exhausted. We had been getting up at o'dark thirty and had spent at least twelve hours a day sightseeing for the past week or so. Even though I had gotten more than enough sleep on the trip, I was sure all that activity had done me in. My husband and I are active, but we don't hike all the time or go for driving for hours and hours like we did in Washington.
Yes, that had to be it.
Sunday rolled around with no sign of good old Aunt Flo. I still didn't think anything of it though. I had been late before. Maybe the trip had thrown my cycle out of wack or something.
That Monday I went in for the MRI. I was lucky that I wasn't in one of the tube MRIs - it was more like a rectangle, so I had more than enough space on either side, and if I looked up I could see the ceiling and the rest of the room - but OH MY GOD... nothing can prepare you for the noise that machine makes. NOTHING. It sounds like really bad techno music, where all you can hear is the beat.
And those ear plugs they give you to help drown out that noise? They don't help. Not one bit.
By the time the MRI was done my nerves were so frayed that I was trembling. I changed back into my clothes, drove home and promptly had a drink.
And once 8 o'clock hit, I was out.
Again I got the strange look from my husband. Again I reassured him that I was fine.
Wouldn't it be funny, he pointed out, if as soon as we stopped trying because I was getting ready for the surgery, was the time it actually happened?
Yes, yes it would be, I agreed, but I refused to think that that was what was going on. After months of trying, of getting my hopes up, I didn't want to go through that emotional rollercoaster again. So I continued to say that it was nothing, just my body being late.
However, when AF still hadn't shown up by Wednesday, I agreed to take a pregnancy test. I knew it would come out negative, it always did, but at the very least, maybe AF would finally show up. When I had been late before and bought a test, it always seemed to show up right when I took said test.
Since I was still exhausted and didn't want to deal with the stress of going to the store, my loving husband went and bought a pack of tests for me. After I came home from work that night, I grabbed one and headed upstairs to change, shower, and take it.
To my complete surprise, it turned out that my husband was right. The moment we had stopped trying because I was going to have the fibroids removed, was the moment that that finally happened.
We were pregnant.