Role playing

Today was my visit with my new primary care physician. Since starting the whole fertility diagnosis/treatment journey, I haven't prioritized seeing anyone to talk about my general health. Partly due to the assumption that that would come after treatments resulted in pregnancy; partly because my life was already filled with enough doctor's appointments. Once Grey and I made the decision to stop treatments, I knew it was time to see someone. The drugs have taken a huge toll on my body and it's time to be monitored by someone who is going to look at more than my uterus.

The appointment was a quick one: the patient scheduled before me was a no show and because I had arrived early, they decided to see me right away. First came the usual routine of getting basic information: weight, height, blood pressure and an update on current medication. Following the whole TCM blowup with Grey, I decided to bring the herbs with me to talk with new doctor. After a few more questions, the nurse left me to grab the doctor.

Dr. M is a younger physician with a great bed-side manner. One of the reasons I picked her was because she had done some extra training in osteopathy and it was clear when she entered the room that she was going to work with me to help me meet my health goals. What was also clear is how quickly information passed on to the medical staff can be misconstrued: when asked for a reason for the appointment, I said that I had finished fertility treatments. Dr. M came in the room prepared to talk about what one needs to do to start that process. So when she took one look at me, I think she was prepared to have her work cut out for her.

Once it became clear I wasn't there to talk about IVF, but instead recovering from multiple failed rounds of IVF/FET, she immediately settled into helping me generate a plan. We talk quite a bit about the adoption process and how important it was to keep her in the loop so she could help provide medical information for the process. We also talked about diet and exercise to help me recover from the physical tolls of treatment. In addition, she looked at the herbs and declared them "safe" for use, though was quick to add that she couldn't guarantee any benefit. But she suggested that I give them a try.

Finally, as we were wrapping up, she told me something that made me do a double-take. "I want you to live like an expectant parent." I think the look I gave her betrayed all the pain and sorrow I had been living with, because she quickly pushed herself back from the computer and faced me to explain. "I'm not saying that if you improve your health that you'll magically become pregnant," she said, "but if you continue on their journey to adoption, you will need to prepare yourself, both physically and mentally, for your child."

I think she could tell I have my doubts about the mental piece. For me, I've closed the door on the idea of ever being able to become pregnant and carry that pregnancy to term. 2.5 yrs, 3 failed IUIs and 3 failed rounds of IVF/FET solidified that one. But she encouraged me to try. "I'm not suggesting that it will magically happen overnight, but it's amazing the power of the mind."

On the drive home, I thought so more about this conversation. The importance of being well for the upcoming process completely makes sense to me. But mentally I'm still struggling. After so much pain, it's hard to envision a future that's any different from the one now. Logically I know things can change, but I'm not fight the logical part of my brain. As I thought about this, I thought about Mo's post too. And I thought about my recent sessions with David and Dee; how mentally I could be sabotaging any path to a child based on my inherit belief that I don't desire to be a mother.

What I wonder is if the universe is telling me it's time to put away these destructive thoughts and to start playing the role I want for myself and my family. I see the signs and am reading the message, but what I've fought is believing that it's possible. In short, maybe what it's about is finding the courage to once again dive blindly into the abyss that we call hope. To open myself to the chance of being hurt all over again.