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“You have got to be kidding me.” Exactly what I was thinking when I leave my OB/GYN today. Right now, quite frankly, I feel like the universe is using me for its punching bag–or maybe the universe was the ugly kid in class and just thinks I should be punished for me charmed life thus far.  Regardless, if you believe in fate or the universe conspiring in your favor, know that today the universe conspires against me. Enough with the diatribes–let’s get to the suckiness that is this day.

So, I started my cycle on Friday afternoon at about 4:00 pm for those of you tracking it.  You may be wondering, what is so important about 4:00 pm.  Well, the awesomeness of 4:00 is that my doctor’s office closes at 12:00 on Fridays.  Since my lady friend–who comes to stay, but is never invited—decided to visit on Friday afternoon, at the absolute last second, I was unable to see my doctor on the first day of my cycle.  Instead, I had to call this morning (Monday–for our readers in alternate time zones) to get a last minute appointment today.  This was no easy feat.  The first time I called, the receptionist said, “we do not have any appointments today.”  Before I could begin explaining the importance of this appointment, she put me on hold for 5 minutes.  I finally hung up and called back.  The second time I called I explained the situation to the other receptionist and was connected with a nurse.  Of course, I got to explain to the nurse again.  The back story is that I have to go to my OB/GYN on the first day of my cycle each month.  He does an ultrasound on me to make sure I am not harboring an fugitive cyst that could go rogue on my uterus or ovaries, and then, he prescribes the hormones that make  me ovulate.  The timing is important because I take the Femara (ie hormones) days 3-7 of my cycle.  Since today was technically day 4, I was uber important that I get an appointment and my meds.  (I know this makes me sound like an addict, but this is super important in the quest for spawn.) Luckily, the nurse was able to create an appointment for me.  She offered me 2:30.  I immediately started calling my afternoon appointments to cancel or reschedule, so I could make the appointment.

I arrived for my appointment, and of course, I waited for—ever.  I noticed that in my two week sabbatical from my doctor’s office, they have remodeled.  They blocked in the play area to create the doctor’s official office.  My first thought was–where was his office before? what was wrong with that one?  there seem to be a lot of unused offices in the back, what happens to those areas?  Nonetheless, the loss of kid zone isn’t a huge deal to me; after all, I’m not playing with the toys–not saying that wouldn’t be more fun that what I do in the office.

I was finally called back.  Today was a dreaded day for several reasons.

1. I had to pay our enormous bill from last month.
2. I had to endure the dreaded Internal Ultrasound. DUM-DUM-DUMMMM

That’s right the internal ultrasound, or as one of my hilarious friend’s called it this week “the dildo-cam.”  (Please forgive the vulgarity, but believe me, it is necessary.  If you can’t experience the humility of this pride-stripping device, you should at least experience the awkwardness of its explanation.)  I think you have a vivid picture in your head of the device.  I had been dreading this device all weekend.  Really, I’ve been dreading it for over a month.  Last month, I avoided the newest torture device in Dr. B’s tool belt because the nurse forgot to tell me it was coming.  This month–no such luck.

I was taken into the ultrasound room and instructed to remove all my clothes from the waist down.  Of course.  The nurse also made sure to let me know that I needed to “make sure the doctor could “use” the internal ultrasound.”  “So, remove anything that maybe, um, in the way.”  I get it–Awesome.  I sat for an eternity waiting for Dr. B to come to my room.  When he finally did, he was all sun shines and rainbows.  I actually really like the fact that he always greets me in the best mood.  (Really, it puts me at ease.)  This month instead of greeting me with his normal “I thought we agreed you’d be pregnant by now,”  he decided to lead with a pop quiz.   I love pop quizzes.

Dr. B: “What are we doing today.”

Me: “um, today? Well, I think you are going to take that odd looking internal ultrasound over there and put it somewhere I’m not too happy about.  I’ve been looking forward to this all weekend.”

Dr. B: “And then, what?”

Me: “You’ll prescribe some Femara–twice a day for 5 days.”

Dr. B: “And, then.”

Me: “you’ll prescribe another IUI.”

(I started to think, “Is this a Pop Quiz or is this dude forgetting everything?”)

Dr. B: “Have we talked about a Dye Test?”

Me: “Not yet, but I was going to ask.”

I assumed a dye test was coming.  Since Nick and I have been through 2 rounds of unsuccessful IUIs I assumed we would be looking into my tubes and their usefulness soon.  Apparently, we are nearly there.  Dr. B would like to run the Dye Test (which he said hurts like the dickens) to see how things in the WaterPark Of Melody’s Tubes flows.  I wasn’t terrible excited, but I knew it was coming.  He originally said I should have the dye tet done on day 8 of my cycle.  Then he start explaining things, and talking about my Femara prescription.  This is also when he started the internal ultrasound.

Full stop.

Dr. B stopped mid-fermara sentence and said, “We will not be prescribing femara this month.  Not for you.”  Okay–why?  He replied with, “Do you remember why we do the ultrasound?” At this point I knew all was not right in my uterus.  Like any good fertility student, I responded with, “You are checking to make sure there are not cysts.”  Dr. B said yes, and you have lots.  Apparently, as luck would have it, I have more than one cyst, which has grown because of the femara.  (Femara makes women ovulate, but cannot also cause cyst to grow.)  I have several small, unconcerning cysts, and one giant “holy moly” cyst.  Dr. B pointed out the smaller ones, and said “These don’t worry me. But this one, (he draws a dotted line on the ultrasound, a long line on the ultrasound) this one worries me.  It is twice the size of your uterus and it is filled with blood.  I can’t prescribe any femara this month.  If you take it this month, this will grow and possibly burst, and it may cause damage.  I said, “well, that explains the unholy pain I had yesterday.”  (I was completely debilitated yesterday; I couldn’t even walk because of the pain.  So, I was worried about this.)

As always, Dr. B tried to build me up.  He reminded me that this was okay.  It happens.  He feels pretty confident that the blood-filled cyst will absorb in itself.  (I think this sounds pretty concerning to me.  HELLO–blood-filled, two times size of uterus–focus Dr. Chipper.)   He told me not to worry.  “I know this is emotional, but it will be okay.”  He also said, “I have lots of women who go off of the femara for a month and they get pregnant.  Just keep doing what you’ve been doing.”   I replied, “So, no femara, and no IUI.”  He said, “Neither this month.  You come back on the first day of your next cycle, and we’ll check your uterus again, and then we’ll start the femara and the IUI.  I don’t want to do the dye test this month because I do not want to risk bursting the cyst.  We’ll do it next month too.”

Obviously, we are a little deflated.  Honestly, I knew last Saturday (almost a full week before I was supposed to start my cycle) that the latest procedure didn’t work.  I had a hard time on Saturday and Sunday morning (including a little mid-Mass weeping last Sunday), but otherwise, I’ve been okay.  It seems the universe was not okay with my new-found approach to spawnlessness.  Perhaps the universe must punish me for expecting the worst.  Perhaps, I am growing this cyst because all of that positive thinking needed to amass into something.  Whatever the reason–our house has decided that we are the universe’s dumping ground.

Really, is it not enough that I apparently have lazy ovaries that cannot decide when they should ovulate?  Is it not enough that Nick’s swimmers are slower than turtles in a sprint and potentially need a GPS with turn-by-turn to my Uterus ?  Now we have to have a giant cyst too.  REALLY?  COME ON!

So, we are hoping to give the universe a huge middle finger, and produce a child without medical assistance this month.  (Fine, who needs you.)  I’ve got a new book, which is supposed to help me become more fertile via natural diet.  I am apparently increasing my protein.  (Not the easiest thing to do as a vegetarian, but I will make it happen.)

Dear universe, you should know, the best way to really anger me is to tell me I can’t do something.  Hell hath no fury like a Melody told incapable.  As my family will attest, I do not take “incapability well.”  I shall consider this a challenge.

So, long story short.  The universe is not treating the Young Family Spawn-Watch very well.  Sure, I’m in a bunch of pain beacuse of my giant, double uterus sized, blood cyst, and I’m sad about the unfortunate turn of events.  We are hoping that something good comes our way soon.  Afterall–we have to be due for some good news.

If you are praying for us or chanting or whatever, thanks.  Keep it coming.  I’m not sure how you need to phrase a prayer for our conceiving sans medical assistance (just sounds naughty now).  But do your best.

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