For those of you who have been following me for quite some time, you will perhaps remember the horror stories I told once upon a time about the waiting room of my OBGYN's office. I have referred to that particular shit show as the "preggo parade". It is a revolving door of baby bellies. They enter the waiting room, sign in, get called back, and leave. Then the next one shows up. All the while, I sit there. And watch. And mourn.
Today, for my annual exam appointment, it was no different. You know those montages they have in movies, where someone stays in one place (for example, sitting in a waiting room chair...), and everyone else around them is in fast-forward? That was me. That's what I envisioned was happening to me. I was in a movie. A horror movie.
But honestly, I expected this. I expect it when I go to this office. I've never seen a not-pregnant lady there. I'm the only weirdo having an annual exam, baby-bump-free.
Finally, after 30 minutes of sitting there, I get called back. The nurse, decked out in her Crocs, shows me to the scale (which for once I wasn't completely dreading!!) and then takes me to my room. She asks me the customary questions (Are you on birth control? When was your last period? What medications are you taking?).
While we are going over this positively riveting information, I keep hearing these sounds. It sounded to me like someone talking or breathing into their headset while Buster is playing Call of Duty. Lots of static noises. I ask the nurse if someone is playing a video game next door.
"No," she says laughing, "that's the ultrasound of a baby in the next room. When the baby moves and jumps around, it sounds like that."
"Oh," I reply.
WTF! Do they have that shit on surround sound in there? Are you kidding me?? Not only do I have to look at the bellies these little babies reside in, but I also (along with the parents) get to hear the baby moving around. Oh fanfuckingtastic!
We get through the rest of our conversation, although I couldn't tell you what else happened. All I could do was listen to the baby, and try not to hear it. The nurse leaves me with the stupid gown to put on. I change and plop down on the paper-covered exam table.
As I'm sitting there, awkwardly waiting for the doctor, I hear a new sound from the room. A heartbeat. The loudest heartbeat I've ever heard. Reverberating off the walls. Bouncing at me from every direction. Punching me square in the gut, repeatedly. Then happy voices, talking excitedly.
The tears well up in my eyes. I say, out loud to myself (yes, because I'm that crazy infertile bitch who talks to herself!), "Hold it together. Hold it the fuck together."
I cry a little, wipe the tears, fan dry my eyes with my hands like a maniac. I think to myself, "It can only get better from here, right?"
Enter my doctor. And nurse. And some chick who I have no idea who she is, other than she was wearing a white coat like a doctor.
The whole exam portion of the appointment happens uneventfully. As I sit up and try to make myself decent, he asks me if I ever ended up going to my former RE. I tell him yes. He asks what we tried, and I told him, all the while on the verge of bursting into tears at any moment. I also told him that I have an appointment with a new out-of-town RE on August 1st.
He sits down, and proceeds to tell me about some lady that he knows that had spent a quarter of a million dollars on fertility treatments. She claimed she was addicted. She tried all new protocols and any new drug she could. I told him I could completely relate with that, given I had the money to do so.
Then he tells me that he and his wife tried IVF. He didn't realize how many different phases there were to IVF, and how so many different things could go wrong. He said that they were never able to transfer any of his wife's eggs, because they dissolved in the lab (????). Instead, they adopted.
He then goes into a 20 minute story about the adoption process, international adoption, orphanages in Guatemala, women lining up to give their babies away, etc. He finished up the conversation by saying that he wanted to plant a seed with me, and wanted me to know that there is more than one way to have a baby.
I could barely keep it together. Seriously, only barely did I make it through that conversation.
I have nothing against adoption. Shit, I may go down that road someday. But I don't want to think about it right now. Right now, I want to have a baby. I want to be pregnant. I want a child that has my husband's eyes. I want to even just try IVF.
I know he was just being nice. He is a genuinely caring doctor.
However, it was awful to sit through. After everything else that had happened thus far at this appointment, this was just the icing on the proverbial cake.
As soon as he and his sidekicks left the room, I cried. Not just a meek cry. A sob. You know that ugly kind of cry, that you don't want anyone to see you do. All the while listening to the heartbeat of another couple's dream come true.