Today I had my first wellness exam since we adopted. Two years ago, Justin and I were pursuing fertility treatments while we were waiting to adopt. And once Joci came along, we didn't bother with any more treatments.
I was really nervous about going back to the same doctor who was directing our treatments. He was so focused on getting me pregnant that I wondered if he'd understand that we adopted instead.
As the doctor reviewed my chart, refreshing his memory of who I was, I told him about our adoption. After he was all caught up, the first thing he did was start talking about IVF for me.
This was what I was afraid of.
I wasn't there to talk about infertility. I was there to fulfill an insurance requirement so my rates won't go up.
I told him I wasn't ready to talk about IVF. He said that was absolutely fine and I was the captain of my ship. Then he reminded me of my age and that while it's okay not too talk about it right now, I won't have much longer to consider it.
Nothing makes you feel older than a fertility doctor. Seriously. When I started going to him at 26, he already told me we had no time to waste - I would be 30 before long and the whole game changes at 30. Ugh. I am ancient.
An interesting development is that I am going to get my first ultrasound ever to take a peek at my uterine fibroid tumors, because we suspect they could be growing. This will happen Saturday. I am definitely curious to see the results, but at the same time, it's sad.
Ultrasounds are supposed to be about heartbeats and little alien fish fetuses flipping around on the screen, their entire spinal column perfectly formed. Ultrasounds are supposed to make you cry and leave you in wonder at the miracle of life. My ultrasound will be a little different. We will count tumors and measure them. We will wonder at the malfunctions of the human body. And I may cry a few tears, but a different kind.