As my husband and I sat in a very well-decorated waiting room, I joked that the nicer the doctor’s office, the more likely something is really wrong.

This was the fifth doctor I’d seen in a little less than a year and the fourth for the same concern. The OBGYN Team I had during pregnancy and delivery (who I loved), was impossible to get in touch with postpartum.

When my gut told me I needed to see someone else to get a clean bill of health, I booked a visit with my primary care doctor. They said I was in great shape.

Months went by and any complaints I had, I filed under “nothing is the same after giving birth. Everything is a new normal.” My cycle returned and was extraordinarily painful and I had a constant feeling of pressure in my pelvic region – so much so that I had convinced my husband I had a prolapsed organ.

At a lactation specialist visit ~9 months postpartum, the IBCLE encouraged me to find a new doctor who would listen to my symptoms. Within one minute of an ultrasound at a new OBGYN office, they confirmed I had some sort of mass in my pelvic area. What was it? They had no idea.

The new OBGYN consulted with their team, ordered an MRI (which insurance denied), and they decided to refer me to a GYN oncologist.

Mind you, this is now almost a year postpartum and it’s the first time a doctor is listening to my concerns. Paying out of pocket for an MRI, the oncologist confirmed I had a 6 CM mass (about the size of a billiard ball) encroaching on my cervix and potentially interlocking with my colon. The oncologist, while amazing, didn’t specialize in the current diagnosis.

That led me to see my 6th doctor, a renowned specialist and surgeon, who ended our first appointment with the green flag for surgery but also a hug. It’s hard to imagine the number of women who come through his office and hear answers for the first time. The downside to his care: he’s completely out-of-network and requires a 10k deposit before doing surgery.

Next up, I see a colon surgeon today who will likely assist on the forthcoming surgery to remove this mass. Risks for the surgery include a potential hysterectomy and/or a temporary colostomy bag.

Now imagine for a moment that I listened to the first several doctors who said I was fine. Imagine if I accepted pain as my new normal. What if I didn’t have childcare or transportation for my countless doctor visits or if I didn’t have credit cards to use for out-of-network specialists.

I have always believed in the importance of advocating for oneself in the healthcare industry but I was naïve to what that truly meant. Fighting insurance claims, researching doctors and demanding appointments has become what feels like another full-time job.