I honestly thought the ultrasound was probably premature, but I am a proactive person. And I thought it would give me reassurance (yes your reproductive anatomy looks great – go home and keep trying!). It certainly started out that way “this is your uterus – look at the beautiful shape”, “perfect lining, what we would expect at this time of month”, “here is your left ovary… looks like you ovulated from your left this time!”, “I think you also ovulated from the right” (I breathed a mental sigh of relief as I heard of people who don’t have ovaries). After that point I relaxed. Then, her positive, upbeat reporting of my perfect anatomy ceased. She started focusing intently, muttering “mmm some fluid there” – to be honest I tuned out a little (I was still thinking about how I ovulated from both ovaries – I could have had twins this month!). She finished up the procedure – telling me “you have fluid in both Fallopian tubes, the next step is to book in with an IVF specialist”. I couldn’t understand what she had just said – confused I asked “You mean I can’t get pregnant naturally?”, “Sorry, not based on what I’m seeing”. I must have looked shocked because she rubbed me on the back.
She then gave me a printout of the ultrasound report and sent me on my way – I read it on the way back to the car – this was the first time I read my diagnosis “bilateral hydrosalpinges”.
I can only describe that moment as heartbreaking and accompanied by a sense of dread. I am not a dramatic person, but it reminded me of the feeling you might get when you here a loved one has been given an unexpected diagnosis of cancer. Followed by a roller-coaster of emotions that I would normally associate with grief (shock, anger, denial, sadness, and later acceptance).