I have a secret life that nobody knows about. It happens before the rest of the world is even awake. My eyes shoot open at 5:00a.m., I have to be out the door by 6:00a.m. I swear I don’t sleep anymore.
You’d think that I was preparing for something huge, an important speech or a big race but this matter is more personal. As I sit sipping my herbal green tea, I organize my notes. I need to be concise, present my thoughts with clarity. I need to solve this puzzle! What is the problem? Why can’t I get pregnant?
Off I go! It’s still dark out and I want to be there early. The first one at in those clinic doors usually means the first one out and I have work that’s waiting.
Once through the clinic doors, I take the elevator up with another woman. As we ride up in silence, I wonder what her story is. Is she fighting the spectre of infertility like me? But, we’ve both been here before so we say nothing and keep to ourselves.
As I enter the clinic, the lights snap on. I’m the first one here and I quickly sign up to see the doctor. I also jot my name on the ultrasound and bloodwork list. Now it’s time to sit and wait.
I hate coming here but at the same time it’s become an obsession. I’m overwhelmed by my need for a second child. This brings about the inevitable wave of disappointment, annoyance and yes, even hope.
When it’s time to give blood, I show the nurse precisely where to put the needle. After so many months of bloodwork, I could be my own phlebotomist.
After my ultrasound I head back to the waiting room and can’t believe how packed it’s become. So many women, all here for the same reason. We share a common experience but no one is talking. Instead of striking up conversation, I head to one of the massage chairs at the back of the clinic. Maybe this will bring the Zen moment I’ve been looking for?
I close my eyes and wait for the chair to take over but I can’t slow my mind. It’s only 7:30a.m. in the morning and I’m already exhausted. Then my mind wanders to the fertility doctor. He has become my guru. A man with the power to make my day amazing or terrible. The one who judges my body and whether it’s up to the task its been given.
When I hear my name, I want to run. I feel as if my whole identity, my existence is riding on the feedback I’m about to get.
“Things are looking good,” he says. “I want you to come back tomorrow and I think the intrauterine insemination will be on Monday.”
And? I am desperate for more information, answers…anything!
I’ve been here before and if he wasn’t going to offer anymore, I was going to pry it out of him. I open my notebook and slowly begin my prepared speech. It’s a masters in “I think I have Endometriosis.” I need him to hear me. I’ve done the research and I feel, no, I know I need laparoscopic surgery. If this IUI doesn’t work, it will be his fault, not mine and I’ll need to look for another doctor.
He pauses and, to my surprise, agrees. We will start looking into it. As I leave the clinic I feel 10 feet tall. I’ve won a small battle but there’s still a war. I have bought myself a little more hope in my journey to become a mom.
I look at the clock, almost 9:15a.m. I’m late for work. I can’t keep up this charade and soon I know I’ll have to tell them what kind of war I’ve been waging. For a moment I felt ok but now the reality is starting to set in. Tomorrow, I have to do all this all over again.
Thanks to our Guest Blogger, Amira Posner and Healing Infertility Counselling and Support . Amira is a Professional Member of Fertility Matters Canada and a supporter of the 1 in 6 Canadians who are struggling to build their families.