Peace of pace.

What a week it’s been.

What I thought was going to be my drama in the last space of time turned out to have been given more power than I needed to. It’s typical of me and you’d think I’d learn, but I am who I am.

Since our last episode…  (I’m a goof.)

Last Friday was our “Preconception Consultation” appointment with a local Maternal-Fetal Medicine clinic.  I was fearful that this doctor would have the power to derail my plans, HOPEs.  I talked about it at length in counseling and tried to remember that only voicing my fears would garner me any measure of control.  Until that point, I was fearing phantoms and not giving the doctor a chance.

We arrived and were ushered into a room.  The intake nurse was VERY nice, soft spoken and attentive.  We met with her for about twenty minutes.  She asked if we had any questions for her and I drew a breath, looked at the ceiling and said that I was scared to be there, that I didn’t really understand why I was there NOW as part of simply trying to get pregnant.  She smiled and noted that they see many SRM clients, and it’s just part of making sure the intended parents are fully prepared for what’s ahead, that they have a base line of information on a couple who may become patients soon.  It’s SRM being cautious.  I said I was relieved, that my fear was having the consultation and being told I should NOT get pregnant for whatever reason or that the doctor would not take my case.  The nurse reassured me, us, that the doctor we were going to talk with that day was particularly an advocate of not making decisions for a couple, but supporting them through the result of the decision to get pregnant… supporting them to a healthy conclusion.  WHEW.

The doctor came in shortly there after and was frank, but kind.  He’s encouraging me NOT to change my anxiety meds, that evidence does not support it being a risk to the baby.  He’s encouraged by my overall health and understands that the size I am now is where my body has always been most comfortable; it can be a challenge to some things along the way, but it will not prevent carrying a child once pregnancy is achieved.  His primary concern for me will be genetic abnormalities from being of advanced age and the possibility or likelyhood of gestational diabetes.  These are not surprises to me and he spoke very positively about management and working as a team.

The hard part of the conversation, for him, was that he had to remind us as fertility clinic patients that getting pregnant is just the start.  The difficulty and disappointment may not end there.  I listened attentively, as did Partner, while he talked about the things he does not like to mention as a doctor– miscarriage and early loss.  I let him know that we’re prepared to face these things, that there’s no guarantee once the line turns pink.  I think we comforted HIM for a while.  Partner and I know.  We don’t want to give it power and we’ll pray, make alters, and do chants around a cauldron if we need to… but we understand the statistics as they are in general.

We shook hands, said we hoped to see him in about six-eight weeks.  Smiled and out the door we went.

Another hurdle in the rear view mirror.

What’s next?  Picking a donor, seeing the SRM social worker to talk about the use of a donor, having a period, and then counting the days until ovulation.

I have some peace now.  This is a pace I can handle.  There’s lots to do at home and for family right now, work is buzzing just enough to make the days go by with some speed.  My exercise efforts are a bit derailed- I slipped on my way down some stairs over the weekend and sprained my ankle, knee, and mashed my toes horribly.  No fractures, but I’m in a post-op surgical shoe for the rest of this week at least.  Walking a mile is not a good idea at this moment!

But… all in all… peace.  And what more can I ask for?


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