HSG: No news is good news, but . . .

. . . not good news is simply not good news. It's not BAD news, just not good.

Disclaimer: If your eyes, ears, heart, mind, or whatever is highly sensitive or offended by cursing . . . sorry. I'm not happy and I'm tired of filtering when I write. I can just hope that you and God forgive me. Oh, and this is probably going to be long and rambly.

I just got back from my HSG. About the HSG - not too bad. Cramping? Oh hell yeah. You know exactly when that dye goes in. Geez. Dr. Gloom & Doom, who actually showed a some personality today, gathered 'round the video screen pointing and chatting about my ute with the radiologist. I hear hhmmmm, blahblahblah, etc. At that point, I'm trying not to cry. Either way, it can't be stellar news. Plus, I'm still cramping. There was no glittering of what should be my diamond-encrusted uterus. None at all. Piece of crap ute. I've spent all this damn money and it's still a piece of shit.

They snap a few pics and Dr. G&D comes over to me. He tells me that my left tube is completely closed. When the fuck did that happen? It was just fine in April when my OB/gyn, Dr. Terrific, did my lap surgery which included chromotubation. Everything was wide open & in working order. Well shit. Yeah I know you can get pg with one tube, but really, isn't two better? God gave me two, so I should be able to use them.

I'm thinking, okay - this is survivable. Take that one tube and run with it. Then Dr. G&D opens his mouth again, telling me the shots taken show something abnormal. He believes my uterus is either septate or bicornuate. He's leaning more towards the latter of the two. Delightful! I have a dead tube and a fucked up uterus. And why the hell has nobody ever figured that out? I've had multiple OB/gyns partying in my hooha and nobody figured out anything? What else???

An MRI - that's what else! We tried to schedule it for today, but they were booked. Then I thought, "What the hell, what about a mammogram while I'm here?" They were booked as well. Maybe I should've scheduled some kind of plastic surgery for the afternoon to make me feel better instead.

I held it together until I got into my car and headed home. That's when I lost it. I've been so good at keeping it all together lately and needed the release. I'm frustrated as hell. This is not fair. I don't deserve this. DH doesn't deserve this. What am I supposed to be learning from all of this? Why does this have to be so difficult? I just want a baby. You know - a baby - just like all crackwhores, teenagers, prostitutes, crazyass, and loser women have all the time.

The MRI is tomorrow. We'll get more definitive answers then. From there, almost definitely resection surgery. That needs to happen in the next two weeks. Go, Speed Racer. Drive your fucking ass to the finish line and give me your baby. I digress . . . They offered me Xanax to take prior to the MRI tomorrow, and I declined. Since DH wants to go with me (He said, "You've been through enough already."), I'm calling them and telling them to get the drugs ready. And keep 'em coming. Between Xanax, DH, my iPod, and Josh Groban up high, I should be fine. I've had an MRI before and I'm not claustrophobic, but I don't want to suddenly become that way tomorrow. Plus, I've never had Xanax and it might be good for me to try it out. :)

Jesus, I'm so fucking tired of having all of my shit be wrong and need fixing. I swear to God right now that I'll officially snap if anyone tells me that "Gosh, at least you can get it fixed," or "Thankfully it'll be okay," or "At least you got answers, " or "You should be happy you know why you m/c," or "Don't worry, I'm sure things will be fine," or any of the other shit-you-shouldn't-dare-say-or-are-supposed-to-say-to-RPL-and-IF-women.

I am in love with my amazing husband, and I just want to have a baby with him. That's all. I just don't know how much more we're going to have to endure before that happens. I just don't more how much I can take physically, emotionally, and financially.

For now, I shall drink lots of wine. The next procedure I require will be to resuscitate my liver. Unless that Xanax is nice . . . then there's no telling what might happen.