Part 7: The Big "I"

They should really have a separate number, like a hotline or something, to call when dealing with infertility stuff, because it really sucks having to explain each and every time that you are trying to get pregnant but can't. Just sayin'...

So I called my doctor's office after I'd gotten my period in June and asked to leave a message for Kathy. What was the message, the receptionist asked. I said that Kathy had told me to call her in June if I still wasn't pregnant and, well, I wasn't, so... The receptionist asked if I was trying to get pregnant. Well obviously! Would I be calling to give that message if I WASN'T trying to get pregnant? I didn't want to go through it all with some random person, I just wanted her to leave a message for Kathy to call me back.

When Kathy called, she was very sympathetic. She kind of talked me through the different tests and things we'd do initially to try to narrow down the cause, after which we could talk about treatment options. It was a bit overwhelming, so when she said she was transferring me to the front desk to get scheduled, I wasn't entirely sure what we were scheduling at that point. Apparently the person at the desk didn't get the full idea of what needed to be done either because she asked me what I needed to schedule. I kind of stammered around a bit and said I thought I remembered something about an exam...? Or, a test of some sort? She finally put me on hold to go talk to Kathy and figure out what was needed. When she came back on the line, she said I needed to come in for an appointment with Kathy to do an "infertility work-up."

So there it was. The dreaded "I" word. I realized that until that point, I'd been kind of lying to myself about it. I wasn't struggling with infertility, I was just, you know, trying to have a baby... Hearing that word out loud for the first time, in reference to me, was a bit of a blow. I work in a cancer center, and I am by no means trying to compare my situation with that of a cancer patient, but I do think that being labeled "infertile" is a bit like hearing you have cancer for the first time. It becomes reality to suddenly have a name attached to you and whatever symptoms you are experiencing. Hearing the word "infertility" made it official, in my mind. I was officially a statistic. Officially a member of the sad, vacant uterus club.

I didn't want to wear the label of infertility. I didn't want to be part of the club. I didn't want to be going in for a "work-up." But at the same time, I was tired of not doing anything. I wanted to have forward progress of some sort - if not pregnancy, then at least a plan to achieve that. And maybe some answers as to why doing it the old-fashioned way wasn't working for us...