Pardon me for being a nervous, twitch, crazy-lady. I realize that in being such, I've talked a lot about my pregnancy, and a lot about my previous loss, but not much about the other pieces of this journey.
A week ago, before that pink plus sign, I certainly would have identified myself by my inability to conceive. It was the first thing I thought about in the morning and the last thing I thought about before I went to bed. My infertility is definitely a bigger part of me than my loss, and at this point, a bigger part of me than this current pregnancy. So I should talk a little about it, shouldn't I?
We suffered in silence for a long time. Remember how we started ttc in March 2008 (however unofficially)?
It was March of 2011 before I got off my butt to do anything about it.
It, too, was sparked by a phone call. My best friend from high school called me out of the blue. And, of course, out of the blue phone calls mean one of a very very short list of things. Pregnancy announcements float to the top of that list. And this phone call was no exception. I was THRILLED to hear that she and her husband were expecting a baby. But when I hung up the phone, I just wanted to burst into tears.
It's the plight of anyone who has had trouble trying to conceive. Baby announcements are, at best, bittersweet. At worst, they are devastating. Baby announcements remind you of what you aren't, what you can't do, what you lack. And especially when you've been trying for a long time - and no one knows! - it's a very lonely place to be.
So back in March, I wrote this:
A week ago, before that pink plus sign, I certainly would have identified myself by my inability to conceive. It was the first thing I thought about in the morning and the last thing I thought about before I went to bed. My infertility is definitely a bigger part of me than my loss, and at this point, a bigger part of me than this current pregnancy. So I should talk a little about it, shouldn't I?
We suffered in silence for a long time. Remember how we started ttc in March 2008 (however unofficially)?
It was March of 2011 before I got off my butt to do anything about it.
It, too, was sparked by a phone call. My best friend from high school called me out of the blue. And, of course, out of the blue phone calls mean one of a very very short list of things. Pregnancy announcements float to the top of that list. And this phone call was no exception. I was THRILLED to hear that she and her husband were expecting a baby. But when I hung up the phone, I just wanted to burst into tears.
It's the plight of anyone who has had trouble trying to conceive. Baby announcements are, at best, bittersweet. At worst, they are devastating. Baby announcements remind you of what you aren't, what you can't do, what you lack. And especially when you've been trying for a long time - and no one knows! - it's a very lonely place to be.
So back in March, I wrote this:
Yesterday was d-day, that is, “decision day.” After hanging out in this ttc world for way too long, after being wooed into believing that there was nothing wrong with me last January (2010) when DH and I got pregnant, after miscarrying that pregnancy, after spending another full year ttc to no avail, after getting the phone call yesterday that my best friend and her husband are expecting, and after spending my whole evening in a HUGE FRUSTRATED ANGRY FUNK…And so that was the beginning of the end - the beginning of a summer's worth of pokes and prods that has led me to where I am right now.
I made the decision.
Enough pretending that things are “fine” and that we are merely “unlucky.” Enough pretending that next month will magically be our month. Enough hiding behind my fear of doctors. It’s time to take some action.
I talked to my insurance company today, trying to get a feel for what is covered and at what level when it comes to doctors and fertility screenings and consults and treatments.
It’s after-hours right now, so I have to wait until morning, but tomorrow, I’m calling my lady doctor. I’m scheduling my annual exam. And I’m scheduling a fertility consult.
I’m scared. I hate doctors. I hate needles. I know all of the various directions that this journey can lead, the treatments and the problems and the needle pokes and the discomfort and the vulnerability.
But it is time.
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