{Limited, but yet...}

It was a day I had anticipated and dreaded for years. We were so close to figuring this out. And we were so close to knowing more than I wanted to know. And once we knew....we would have to decide what to do about it.

Bryce couldn't come in with me. But I knew he would be there after the test was over.
Halfway through I could tell that my doctor had been right. This was it. This was the test that would explain the years of waiting, frustration and tears. The one my other doctors had waved off as unnecessary.

My hair scrunched behind my head as I craned my neck back and caught a glimpse of the screen behind me on the wall. The dye revealing my womb on the screen squiggled up and to the right .... and never to the left. More dye -- more pain -- and still nothing more. It should have been a mirror image, but the left side never showed itself. Was one of my tubes just blocked?  I let my head drop back down and I flexed my toes against the cramping, wishing I had Bryce's hand to hold and his ever-smiling eyes there to reassure my fears.  Dr. N. and Tiecha talked me through the test but carefully avoided telling me the full truth for the moment. It could wait.

We finished the test and I was left alone to change again and get dressed. The cramping in my stomach reminding me that we had a whole lot to discuss once I opened that door. My hands and legs shook--both from pain and from fear.

Will she tell me I'll never bear a child? Will she tell me my womb--that, in the past 4 years, should have housed and born at least two chubby-cheeked babes by now--will actually remain empty....barren, the rest of my life?  I may not hold a medical degree, but I knew those pictures of my insides were incomplete.

This wasn't right.

Half dressed, I leaned into the table white-knuckled, still shaking, choking down the lump in my throat and failing to prevent the tears that seemed set on escaping in waves. 

Was this really my life? How did I get here? 

My heart hurt and I wanted to curse my flat stomach. I took several more deep shuttering breaths and opened that door.

Bless my husband and his smiling eyes. That's what I love most about him. His smile always reaches his eyes. Especially when he knows I'm lacking.

Dr. N. was printing from her computer at the desk in her office as I sat down close to Bryce at the table and he grabbed my hand in a fierce grip. He was all support and love and assurance. I locked eyes with his and just shook my head, wanting him to be prepared that this wasn't routine. He just squeezed my hand harder and pulled my chair closer.

After that was a blur. She went over what we already knew--my labs and the PCOS and all. Bryce's tests were good, something to be grateful for. But then she refocused on me.....

Thankfully she's an amazing doctor and she taught us as she talked us through the information, the odds and the realities.  But it was a. lot. of. information.  

Unicornuate Uterus. Excuse me?  Missing half of your uterus. Half size, half volume.  No surgical cure. Both ovaries are present but need MRI to check for missing kidney. Seriously?  One fallopian tube. But I’m 25….I’ve been this way all my life?

There was that moment when we asked if pregnancy was even possible.

Yes.... sigh of relief....but most likely never without medical help.   At least it's possible. There's hope.
Possible, but difficult.  High-risk. Done, we've got this.  Won't go full term. C-section. Breach. Multiples would be too dangerous.  I can never have twins.  Selective reduction. What?? 

Limits. Limited.  I am limited.  I felt so limited.

But 

I also felt hope. God always has a plan. This wasn't something we had brought upon ourselves. It wasn't a mistake. He allowed it and would see us through it. Plus, we had be lead to an amazing doctor, and she was going to walk us through all of it and fight for us.

And fight she did. We'll forever be grateful for a doctor who fought to find the problem and then who fought to help us with our dreams. 

She never told us never or impossible. But over time and after our miscarriages, I've recalled the decisions we had made over and over through the years, including one I made that fateful day.

Just before I opened that door I realized something. If I couldn't bare children....if she told me there was just no way, I would accept it and we would be happy anyway.  We would adopt and we would have an amazing life loving them and I wouldn't look back.  So when I opened that door, I opened it knowing that even the worst diagnosis would lead me to our babies and to the life God had in store for me.