We found out that my miscarriage was actually a partial molar pregnancy. This means, two of Logan’s super sperm attacked one of my eggs. Then the tissue that would normally become a fetus, instead just turns into a mass of tissue. The actual fetus usually only survives 8 weeks. While I was in week 10 of my pregnancy when I started to bleed, the fetus actually only measured at 8 weeks 6 days. Molars are very rare, only about 1 in 1000 pregnancies is found to be a molar pregnancy. We never would have known that this was a molar pregnancy had my physician not encouraged us to do the D&C. After having a molar pregnancy I had to get my blood levels checked until my HCG level dropped all the way to 0. This is to be sure the entire mass was removed. I started with weekly blood draws. And this went on for many, many, many weeks. I couldn’t tell you how many for sure, but it felt like forever. Every time I had to go sit in that lab chair it was a reminder of what happened. It is hard to heal when the wound is constantly reopened. Finally my levels got low enough that I could start going only once a month. That went on for MONTHS until it was finally at zero.
We could not even think about getting pregnant while I was still being tested for HCG so during this time I had to go back on the pill.
However, I can barely remember to put pants on every day, so the pill was not a good fit for me. Once my levels hit zero I threw that shit in the garbage. We decided we weren’t going to try to pregnant, we just weren’t going to prevent it either.
About a year later the big guy got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. My first reaction was probably not the best. We were in a crowded restaurant and I screamed “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!” Once the shock wore off, I did say yes. We had a beautiful wedding one year later. Now the baby makin was really gonna start (or so we thought). We started trying right away. I did research online, bought some ovulation tests, and we were goin at it like rabbits. That was Logan’s favorite part. The “practicing” part of trying to conceive.
Six months had gone by and—nothing. Now I know, it can take a healthy couple at least a year to get pregnant. I know, I’ve heard it, I’ve read it. I KNOW, OK. But since I had now been off the pill for YEARS and we hadn’t been preventing anything for YEARS, I felt it was time to go see a doctor about this. We live in a small rural area, so there aren’t many fertility clinics around these parts. I called the ob/gyn office to try to make an appointment with the one doctor in the area that specializes in infertility. “I’m sorry ma’am, he is no longer taking new patients.” Well fuck me, that is just my luck. So we make an appointment with the doctor they tell me is the next best thing.
We had to wait about a month to get in to see the doctor, but I was SO EXCITED!!
I don’t know what I expected from that first appointment. They would just magically know the issue as soon as I put my legs up in those stirrups? Actually, going in to the appointment I was not expecting an exam at all. I was not mentally prepared and I definitely had not shaved in places that should have been shaved. That was an awkward experience for my husband also. He was not prepared to see a man put his fingers inside his wife— those are his words, not mine. We did the exam, the doctor complimented my cervix, gave us a basal temp chart and off we went. He told us to chart for 8 weeks and then come back. I was quite disappointed, but at least we were moving forward.
I feel the need to go into detail about this god damn basal temp chart, so that will be the next post.
See you all soon!!!