Yesterday I met with my RE to have an ultrasound and HSG to make sure all was clear before starting my first cycle of Clomid to induce ovulation. My estrogen levels are low, and I had not been ovulating on my own, so my doctor was sure either Clomid or injections would do the trick and get me pregnant in no time. After worrying about what was wrong with me for months I finally felt excited and hopeful that there would be a pregnancy (and then baby) in my near future.
The ultrasound showed that everything looked good after my first period in 98 days, and I left, prescription in hand, to meet the doctor at the x-ray office for the HSG. The short drive from one office to another went by even more quickly because I was already calculating estimated due dates and wondering if this month would be THE month for us. My hopes had never been higher since meeting with the RE. I never dreamed there would be anything unusual about my HSG. Maybe a blocked tube, but that could be cleared rather easily and then we'd be on our way.
The HSG procedure is not comfortable in the least. I was wincing in pain as the doctor managed to get everything in place. Once everything was set and ready, I looked at the screen as he injected the dye (which elicited a gasp and jerk from me). All of a sudden the screen lit up.. on one side only. It was only a minute later he said, "Ok, it's over." My first thought was, "What about the other side?" And that's when he said the words I'll never forget: "Well, there's a bit of a surprise." My heart sank. My stomach turned. I was not prepared for what he told me next. He kindly informed me that I have a congenital uterine anomaly called Unicornate Uterus, and while uterine anomalies are not uncommon, this type is far less common. He gently explained that half of my uterus and other tube never developed, and all I had was half a uterus, one tube, but two ovaries, and if I ovulate on the side that has no tube, there's no chance for pregnancy during that month.
My chest felt like it had an enormous anvil slam down upon it. I thought my problem was anovulation, and now that I may ovulate, it could be on the wrong side, and not help. My kind doctor went on to explain that while this anomaly made things "trickier" it would not be impossible to become pregnant. He did, however, mention that once pregnant I'd be at a higher risk for miscarriage, breach babies and preterm labor. All I could do was stare at him and nod. If I said anything I'd be sure to explode into tears in front of him, the nurse and the college student who was shadowing him (Boy, did she have a story to share...)
The doctor wrote the name of my condition on a piece of paper and told me that if I chose to google it not to get too worked up about what I read and we'd talk more when I see him next time in two weeks. I barely made it into the parking lot before I finally let the tears come. I sat in my car for fifteen minutes, sobbing harder than I have in 24 years, and wondering why I was born this way. I finally calmed down enough to call my husband and my sister, the wonderful mother of a toddler and 4 week old. My oldest niece was out with her grandparents, so my sister offered to meet me at my house, which I accepted gladly. I needed support. I needed someone to talk to. When she came over she handed me a gift, a rock inscribed with "Miracles Happen"... a rock that I gave to her almost exactly one year earlier when she had experienced a loss. She said, "This helped me when I needed it, and now it will help you." I was so touched by the gesture and in her sheer faith that in spite of all the challenges that may lie ahead, there is always hope. I have to trust in that right now. I'm going to cling to it. My husband and I will become parents one day and we'll do everything in our power to try and get there.
So here I am, beginning this journey of keeping hope whole... with half a ute.
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