Being a strong self-advocate: so how's that going?

I thought it would be a good idea to meet with my gynecologist to see what she had to say about the link between autoimmune hypothyroidism and fertility. Not unreasonable, right? I mean, I've done my research. I'm not making this up. Although I got what I wanted in the end – an appointment for control cycle testing – the process was akin to pulling teeth and left me feeling as if my own had been pulled.

(It's still the same doctor. I did, and do, ever so much more now, want to change, but I was waiting to have a "reason," i.e. a pregnancy, to begin afresh with a new one, and since this one had my background information from the miscarriage and since my endocrinologist had brought her into the loop – or rather, had attempted to bring her into the loop; it takes actually reading one's correspondence for that to happen – I decided to bring up my concerns with her for the time being.)

This is what I heard:

"Hypothyroidism is not that rare. Lots of women have it and still have babies." 

"The endocrinologist didn't say anything about thyroid antibodies. [Continues skimming my copy of the letter, which I had handed over in response to her blank stare about being copied on it.] ... Oh. He did."

"You shouldn't worry about miscarriage until after having had three. Up to that point, it's probably just normal. Difficult but normal. Happens all the time."

"You got pregnant before, which indicates you don't have a problem."

"Stop focusing too much on temperatures and monitoring. Have relations twice a week, every week, and that should do it."

"Just relax. Enjoy life. You're putting too much pressure on yourself, and that's not good for making a baby."

And then as if it wasn't enough that I was about to walk out of there feeling belittled and stupid and over-reactive, and furious at her for making me feel that way and furious at myself for letting her, she threw out this little gem:

"While doing your ultrasounds" – you know, the ones from four months ago showing ... nothing, or so I thought – "I noticed lots of cysts on your ovaries. Like this [scribbling a bunch of little circles inside a big circle]."

Oh. Wow. Right. Good to know. Eventually.

"But don't read too much about that on the Internet. You'll unnecessarily scare yourself. Lots of women have them and still have babies."

I can tell she doesn't want to see me again. The feeling is rather mutual. So I will take her up on her not-so-subtle suggestion to have the testing done elsewhere, which would be at a fertility clinic, as much as that makes me feel even more like I'm over-reacting. I want to be a well-informed advocate for myself. I also don't want to be what's on the flip side of that, which is a whiny hypochondriac, and which is how she makes me feel.

Here's hoping she's right, I guess.

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