A Brief History of Time...Volume 1

I figured that a good way to get the ball rolling with this blogging thing, online diary, or whatever else you'd like to call it is to start at square one and tell my story. I’ll only go back to the beginning of our TTC times, as really, what else has possibly consumed my life for the last few years anyway?

Volume 1: The Year of Naivety

We were married for about four months when we decided, not being spring chickens or anything, that we would start the whole process of building a family. By chance I had my yearly appointment at the same time, gave them the news that we would be trying, and went through the normal set of blood tests, etc, that any typical woman might have at her “introductory” appointment. They gave me a pat on the back, a cheer of good luck, and sent me on my way to procreate at will. I was just about to start a new cycle on the pill, but that would, of course, be unnecessary. Little did I know that it had probably been unnecessary from the start, but I think we’ve all been through that scenario.

So we tried and tried…and tried. The first few months it was fun, and I didn’t worry too much about the fact that nothing seemed to be happening. In fact, the very first month I was actually scared that it would work the first time, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready. So the delay was nice in it’s own way. Then the day came when my period was late. Oh the joy. The excitement. The suspense. Now, being the practical type, I didn’t run out that same day for an HPT. Really, I didn’t. I actually waited a whole week. (I am way too cool for this, right?) So, I pee on the stick, and wait, and wait, and wait. And there, yes it must be, see if you squint and all…was the faintest possible distinction of a line that ever existed in the history of HPTs. Ever. Three days later I was bleeding fast and furious and awful. At that point I had already called my doctor’s office for the prenatal appointment, so when I called back about the bleeding they sent me to the emergency room. Imagine my embarrassment when both a urine and blood test came back negative, revealing that I had gone to the emergency room because I got my period . Which, as everyone knows, is a crisis and requires emergency care. Right?

So, on to continuing the journey. Soon after my 10 days of hope I noticed a strange mole on my leg. Being of northern European descent, I have to keep an eye on these things, so I went off to the dermatologist. Melanoma. Do not pass Go; do not collect $200. At that point we were thankful that our efforts at TTC had not worked because I’d be faced with a heck of a situation. I had surgery to remove almost a fist worth of tissue out of my leg plus a lymph node, chilled out on Vicodin for a few days, and then went on with my life because, thankfully, it had all been contained within the original biopsy area. Rule #1 of my life now- wear sunscreen!

When the one-year mark rolled around and our respective rolling around had produced nothing, I returned to the doctor, head hung low, and waited for the magic solution to be delivered.

To be continued in Volume 2…