My appointMental Breakdown

As I discussed in a long-ago post, I have made a part-time job of going to alternative health care providers to encourage conception and prepare for a healthy pregnancy. I am not exaggerating when I say I go to one such appointment every single frickin’ day. I do it to myself, I know.

The Mayan Abdominal Massage therapist I recently started going to recommended I see a naturopath she knows. I did so today. The naturopath explained that, given my health complaints, I should get a slew of testing done. One of the tests identifies specific parasites in the gut. She said infection in my intestines could be the trigger for so much of what I deal with. The problem? (’cause I was born to find one) If anything is found in this test, the treatment is such that I won’t be able to continue trying to conceive until it’s over (about 3 months).

I'll eat you from inside! Be afraid!

She made sense when she said I’d have a better chance of conceiving after getting my insides as good as possible. But this month marks a full year since we started trying, and even though we didn’t try continuously during that year, the waiting has been the same torture. Presuming I do have some sort of yuck in me (we all have parasites), I am looking at waiting some more—and just after we started to get things rolling smoothly with E2.

I suppose it’s a good thing that my many appointments also include mental health because this development is making me a bit nutty, depressed, anxious, sad, angry, worried, sleepless, dizzy, and sad some more.

Also, this naturopath, who was extremely nice, made the mistake of telling me that I’m “still young” when I expressed my dismay at the news of delaying future inseminations. Note to health care people (especially if you already have kids and/or are straight): don’t say that! We have to go through so effing much to get things going on the lesbian conception front that three extra months is a big deal and finding a donor and negotiating and legalizing everything and coordinating the timing of inseminations makes it just a wee bit harder and takes a wee bit longer. I don’t know what she could have said that would’ve made the concept of suspending our efforts easier to take. I just know that being told I’m still young was not it. She doesn’t know me from Eve and has no idea what I’ve been through to get to this point.

Whew! The boobs may be getting heavier, but my chest sure feels lighter after that!

Now, mind you, if it turns out I am pregnant, then there will be no treatment, and the little parasites and the big parasite (i.e., fetus) can share the apartment.

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