Hysterosalpingograms: Another Way To Feel Humiliated With Your Pants Off.

The next pit stop on the long and frustrating road to Conceptionville had us heading to the hospital for what was without a doubt one of the more irritating moments of my life. Yes, ladies, if you didn't think things could get much worse than your good ol' yearly pap smear, just add in various catheters, inks-n-dyes, and machines that look like they may come to life and murder you.

At this moment, you're having a Hysterosalpingogram.

You'll just have to imagine a sterile tray of torture devices and elevated stir-ups.

They tell you it's JUST an X-Ray of your internal lady parts. JUST? Please. Now, I'll admit, I did some research ahead of time because I like to be informed. But being informed came with the price of being terrified. The Internet is riddled with women who said that for them, it was more painful than labor. Say WHAT?? Of course there were women who said it was a piece of cake, easy as pie. But I ignored these women in favor of the ones that were making me sweaty, teary-eyed, and panic stricken.

Enter the husband. I didn't ask him to go with me but he could clearly smell the freak-out that was brewing. He wasn't alone. The receptionist in the Radiology department, the X-Ray tech, the doctor who was elbow deep in my stuff, and the poor nurse who offered to hold my hand during the procedure were all very aware that I was wussing out. I wish I hadn't worn silver eyeshadow. I probably looked terrified AND ridiculous.

So I leave my loving hubby in the waiting room as I feel like I'm walking the Green Mile. The next thing I know, I'm siting in a hospital gown with no drawers on, wishing every pair of socks I owned didn't look like a 5 year old girls little footie. The sweetest nurse in the history of nurses brings me into the torture room and I get situated. I won't get graphic but iodine and a man I didn't know in latex gloves were involved.

So what IS a Hysterosalpingogram and why was I getting one?

That's basically a fancy and technical name for an X-Ray of your uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries to look for blockages, fibroids, cysts, scar tissue, etc. Basically scouting out anything that could be preventing sperm and egg from hooking up. Where does everything turn sour? When they crank you open with the speculum, thread in a catheter (OUCH #1) and then pump dye into your stuff (OUCH #2). There you are, exposed to the world, cramping up, bleeding a little, and having the pleasure of watching it all on a screen.

Remember the pretty and symmetrical uterus from your text books?

Not even close. It's like panties with 2 noodles connected to random mush.

That is not my business but it's not far off. Right at that moment, legs still in splits formation, they told me that everything was wide open. Bad choice of words, medical professionals! Regardless, there was nothing blocking the path. Good news! But with the good comes the bad, and the bad came in the form of bleeding, cramping, and a few moments of dizziness and nausea (most likely because I psyched myself out before hand and hand to come back down to reality).

An attentive husband and 64 ounce boot of Spaten Oktoberfest helped.

Next topic: my junk gets a break. It's Todd turn to squirm!

The Kick-Off: Does My Blood Have Anything Important To Say?

The first step in figuring out why we can't get any buns in an oven I assure you worked in the past - having blood drawn. There's nothing cool about needles. Sorry heroin addicts.

It was the same as every time: "You're covered in tattoos. You can't POSSIBLY be afraid of needles."  Lady, I assure you I can be and am and I should punch you for even talking to me. Tattoo needles don't suck blood from my veins, filling up a plastic tube like one of those bubbling Christmas light bulbs. 3 viles later and I was free to go...and to impatiently wait for messages to appear in my doctor provided voicemail box.

The first message I received let me know that I was STD free. Not a shock but always good to hear. The second message told me that my good ol' pap smear was satisfactory. As satisfactory as those things are supposed to be, I guess. I also learned that my thyroid was tip-top. But I knew that because dim-witted doctors have been trying to blame my health problems on the thyroid for years. It was the third call that really got my mind boggled.

My doc leaves me a message saying that my blood work indicated that my FH and LSH levels were off (I don't remember which is which but those hormones make the eggs and then boot them from the ovaries when the time is right). This could have meant:

A. That I was pregnant. When you're pregnant, the levels go up and stay up.
B. That I was ovulating at the very moment blood was drawn. When you ovulate, the levels go up but eventually drop back down.
C. That I had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and was no longer ovulating.

For your education, from the Mayo Clinic: Polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) is the most common hormonal disorder among women of reproductive age. The name of the condition comes from the appearance of the ovaries in most, but not all, women with the disorder — enlarged and containing numerous small cysts located along the outer edge of each ovary (polycystic appearance). The exact cause of polycystic ovary syndrome is unknown. Women with polycystic ovary syndrome may have trouble becoming pregnant due to infrequent or lack of ovulation.

No longer OVULATING??  I ovulate ALL OVER THE PLACE!

The first thing I did was take a pregnancy test. No. The first thing I did was freak out to my oldest pal, Tessa (who is also the future godmother to the first born spawn), about how I would have been like 2 milliseconds pregnant when the blood was drawn. She brought me back down to Earth and THEN I took the test. Negative. Of course.

Then I talked to the doc and she said women with PCOS typically have hormone levels with a ratio of 3:1. My levels were 5:1. Yeah, I'm an over-achiever. Regardless, she said maybe I have PCOS and my levels are just higher than most women, or maybe I was just ovulating when the blood was drawn and my hormone levels in general are higher than most women.

My brain hurt thinking about it THEN and it still throbs a bit.

We knew for certain that I was at least MAKING eggs. I just might not have been booting them from the nest. There's no way to tell for sure. But if this was the case, all hope was not lost. Certain fertility drugs could help give the eggs the push they need. And no, these were not Jon and Kate Plus 8 or Octomom fertility drugs. But more on that later.

So we had jumped through the first hoop, but things were still slightly fuzzy.

Next up: Hysterosalpingogram. Stay tuned for that dramedy.

Jumping Through Hoops: "Infertility" and Why It's Dumb.

We aren't Ward and June Cleaver, that's for sure.

Me: Make your X-Mas list. I want to get you something you really WANT.
Him: A baby.
Me: You can't unwrap that.
Him: I can unwarp the box it comes in.
Me: Just make your list, pervert.

So if you've been trying to create life...that doesn't involve putting a brain in a dead body and reanimating it...for a year and nothing is coming of it, it's suggested you see an OB/GYN and have her poke-n-prod your lady parts. At this point, you're officially being treated for infertility. On all your paperwork is the the big neon sign shouting, "You're infertile! You're 31 and your uterus is a FAILURE!" Balls.

Our doc (who is super thorough and answered all of my husband's questions about the female reproductive system with the use of models and graphs while I died a little inside), said there were 3 hoops to jump through before we knew what's what:

1. Have blood drawn to rule some things out.
2. Hysterosalpingogram. Yep. It's as scary as it sounds.
3. Semen Analysis a.k.a. hump-a-cup.

And let's not forget that the starting point for all of this was every woman's favorite, the pap smear. I don't know if that should be capitalized or not but it sucks so badly, it doesn't deserve large letters. An STD screening was thrown in for kicks. Chlamydia and Gonorrhea can really muck things up. Duh.

So once my nether regions were all swabbed and sent off to the lab (the swabs, not my nether regions), she dubbed us "infertile" for the time being (and I say US because 40% of infertility is caused by the dude). There were 3 hoops we had to jump through but there were even some hurdles to jump over to get to the hoops. Damn, I wish I was in better shape.

Regardless...a plan was in place.