WHAT A DAY!

It is so fascinating to me how my dear husband can remember what kind of wheels a truck had that passed us three years ago going 75 mph or exactly how many squirrels he saw when he was deer huntin' on a random day last fall, but when it comes to the important things, you might as well not have even wasted your breath to tell him 15 times. I guess we will chalk this one up to just being a man thing and I guess I should cut him a break and you'll understand why by the end of this post.

After a single night of recovery from my HSG, it was time to tackle the next test I needed to have done. This one was called a saline infusion sonohysterography, but some people refer to it as a water ultrasound. The process for this was very similar to the HSG, except instead of dye, they filled my uterus with saline. It was basically just another way for them to make sure that my uterus looked healthy inside. This one was performed by our fertility specialist in her office which was a little more comforting. Also, Aaron got to take me to this appointment so knowing I'd have him there with me made me feel a lot better about it.

On the way to the doctor's office, I was asking Aaron if he had heard anything about his genetic tests being back. He said no, but it had been long enough for him to have gotten results so I asked him if he had checked his MyChart. (When they first told him to set this account up, he never did. I finally did it for him months after so that our doctor could send him things there. This is where that remembering important things would've been helpful.) Of course, he said he hadn't so I pulled it up while he was driving. I learned quickly this was a terrible idea because he actually had received his results. I won't go into detail in this post but let's just say that they weren't good. I immediately started crying and couldn't even think about going in for this procedure.

By the time we arrived at the office, I had barely composed myself enough to walk in with a fake smile. They took us back to the room and completed the test. Let me just say, this test was SO PAINFUL for me which I definitely wasn't prepared for. I have a pretty high pain tolerance but Aaron said he could see it in my face that I was hurting pretty badly. I had tears rolling down my cheeks and at one point I felt like I couldn't breathe from the pain being so intense. Luckily, it was over fairly quickly and once again everything checked out okay.
I promise I'm not making up any part of what I'm about to tell you happened next.  

Once we were all done, I sat up on the edge of the table. Aaron was sitting in a rolly chair behind me to my left, where he had been for the entire procedure. My doctor asked if we had seen her emails about Aaron's results and I told her how I opened them on the way to the appointment and had a breakdown over it. She consoled me for a moment and then began telling us a few things about Aaron's sperm count. I was taking in every word and completely focused on her.

The next thing I remember was looking at my doctor and her eyes were locked on something behind me. Aaron wasn't saying a word (which is unusual) so I figured I'd turn around and see what she was looking at. I couldn't even get turned around before I felt something hit the back of my shoulder and my doctor started yelling for help. AARON HAD PASSED OUT. I thought for sure he was dying or something but all I could do was repeat "Aaron, Aaron, are you okay?"
So... here I am, sitting on the table, nothing but a sheet from the waist down, and my husband is passed out behind me in a rolly chair. My doctor is a pretty small lady and all the other women that came in at her desperate call for help were her height or shorter. Now we have three tiny little nurses and doctors trying to get my 6'3" husband out of the chair and into the floor. They hook him up to vitals as he comes to and make him sit there and eat crackers while they check his blood pressure several times over a course of 20 minutes or so. (Now do you see why I said I should cut him a break?)
I'm pretty sure no one in the room knew whether to laugh or cry. They assured us that this wasn't the first time that a man had passed out over a conversation about their own body but I know we gave them a pretty good panic attack to start their day. 

Aaron was just fine by the time we left there. We're guessing the combination of over-thinking the conversation, him getting overheated from the sweatshirt he was wearing, and the fact that he hadn't had much to eat that day were all to blame. 

Also, I took him to Chick-Fil-A after that appointment because there's not many things that some Chick-n-Mini's can't fix. Thank God for Chick-Fil-A.

Looking back now it gives us a good laugh and he's always a good sport. 
♡♡Thanks babe for being my biggest supporter and making this my most enjoyable post yet.