When it came to seeing a fertility doctor, my husband was all for it. He had no problem checking out if his swim team was Olympic worthy. On the other hand, I was nervous that I was the cause of the miscarriages and fertility issues. At first it looked like we were both healthy candidates for conceiving. My husband did his sperm test like a champ a week later, and I did the infamous HSG test. I was so scared of the pain that I was shaking and sweating bullets. I opted to go by myself; just get it done and over with. I hoped there was nothing wrong with me. It hurt, but not as bad as all the forums I had read online. Just as I was about to hop off the table, the doctor said, “Oh and you have a heart-shaped uterus.”
I skipped out the door of the facility on top of the world. A heart-shaped uterus, now wasn’t that cute? I was totally meant to conceive, it was a sign. On the way home, stuck in traffic, I started to do one of the worst things you can do…I Googled. That’s when all the search engine results popped.
Uterine abnormality. Cause of miscarriages in second trimester. Bicornate Uterus. The list goes on. Then I skipped to the forums which gave me no hope. I read of how ladies with this condition would have multiple miscarriages and pregnancy complications. Why was the damn doctor so nonchalant about it!?
I had to wait two more weeks until I saw my appointed fertility specialist to find out all the results. The doctor broke it down rather bluntly. I had an arcuate uterus, it was an abnormal version of normal, but not as pronounced as the bicornate uterus. It could have been the reason for my miscarriages, but we will never know. My egg count was decent for my age…what ever that meant for a 34-year-old female. I feel like I’m still in my twenties, but he treated me as if I was a granny trying to conceive. He did mention that if I wanted to utilize fertility options, time was of the essence. Then came my man’s results. His sperm count was normal, and they moved at a decent rate, but the morphology count was 80% abnormal. He tossed me a paper, and advised we should pay for another more specific test of the sperm to see if a sperm flush would even be an option before trying IVF. I felt awful driving home. How would I break the news to him? I wasn’t sure how he would react. It was May, and he had quit smoking cigarettes and greenery for nearly three and a half months. I thought for sure his sperm would have been regenerated and ready to go. To top it off the report was so specific. It gave the count of how many sperm had two heads, or a missing tail. It was creepy.
He took the news better than I did, and remained optimistic. We agreed if we weren’t pregnant by the fall, we would try our first go at IVF. Hopefully we would get our twins! He had to leave town on business for the month of June. I was set to ovulate before he left. The next two weeks I was healthy. I exercised regularly, drank smoothies, and barely drank vino. I was bummed out again, when the pregnancy tests were negative. I was set to ovulate right after he got back from China. I knew he would be jet lagged, and I didn’t even expect to have sex right away.
The 4th of July fell on a Saturday, just two days after my husband had returned from his trip. I threw an American style 4th of July party for my Canadian friends. We ended up having a quickie in the morning before everyone arrived. It was my ovulation day, but I figured there was no way I was getting knocked up, and I didn’t want to pressure my husband. I didn’t toss my legs in the air for twenty minutes like I had been doing the past year, and I drank like a fish for the rest of the day.
The next weekend I met a friend from Florida who was visiting up in Quebec City. It was still my ‘safe’ week. I only drank the first week after ovulation, then I would play it safe until I got my period, just in case. She noticed I was more edgy than normal. The littlest things would set me off. We had a fun weekend catching up, and Sunday evening at 6 pm after we got home I felt a distinct pinch of a cramp. I thought hmmm could it be? No, there was no way I had gotten pregnant on the 4th of July.
I took a pregnancy test a week later, and BAM! I was pregnant again! I couldn’t believe it. It was so cliché. This American girl lost her independence on the 4th of July.