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My Journey Through Infertility

Oh yes, I've tried that app too.

By Erica HalePublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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The beach in Outer Banks, North Carolina

"I do," I said on that beautiful spring April day in 2012 as I finally, finally got to marry the woman of my dreams. We were pronounced married and we walked down the aisle with the biggest smiles, in great anticipation of a weekend of peace, quiet, and each other. Our honeymoon was perfection: quiet, laid back, with plenty of time to do whatever we wanted or nothing at all. Coming back home made reality set in and we soon became bogged down in unpacking, organizing and money struggles--you know, first year of marriage things.

It was fine, though. Everything was fine.

Our first year together was so hard. We argued more, we had no money and we were having far less sex than either of us wanted. Stress is funny that way. But the great thing about time is, it always passes. Things have improved and new issues arose, but nothing we couldn't handle.

Everything was fine.

Time passed and we bought our first house. Everyone was so excited and we couldn't wait to explore all of the possibilities. We intentionally bought a house with three bedrooms, in the hopes of filling those bedrooms with children one day. Oh, I couldn't wait to have babies. I dreamed of being pregnant, I talked about it all the time. We would always have to stop and look at the baby clothes or ooh and aah at the cute little things. So, after three years of marriage, we decided we would start trying to have a baby. I was over the moon. I downloaded all the apps. I stopped taking birth control. We tracked and planned and...well. Months went by with no luck.

Everything was...fine.

It's fine, I told myself. These things don't happen immediately every time, we just have to keep trying. I tracked. I planned. We practiced.

Negative. Negative. Negative. Month after month. Every period felt like I was being stabbed in the gut. Like my body was betraying me. I started to become angry.

A year went by. Twelve negative pregnancy tests. Twelve periods, right on time. Something needed to change. Something was wrong.

The first doctor we went to came highly recommended. Several friends of mine had used him with their pregnancies and couldn't say enough good things about him. Due to some trauma from my past, the idea of having a male OBGYN was daunting and a bit terrifying, but there aren't any female OBGYN's in my town (go figure, right?), so I really didn't have a choice. Also, it was the only women's center in town. That's what you get for living in a tiny town in small town, USA. I called and made my first appointment. I was told that it would consist of a physical exam and some questions. After my exam, I was told everything was normal, from what they could tell. I would later find out that my blood panel was also completely within normal limits. I was giving a basal body temperature (BBT) chart to fill out/follow in the next month and I would come back to the doctor the following month. I did so, but it showed no spike when I should have been ovulating. I did it for another month--same thing. No spike. The doctor told me I was not ovulating and prescribed Clomid. I had heard so many horror stories of Clomid. I told the doctor I would rather speak to my husband first and discuss it as a family. We did and decided we didn't want to go that route because Clomid has some dangerous side effects. The doctor then told me to continue doing what I was doing and that was that. No ultrasound. No further testing to determine the actual issue. Just a piece of paper with some lines on it and a blood panel. I was so heartbroken. Devastated.

Everything was not fine. Not even close. I was crestfallen. Hopeless. I thought maybe all this worry was in my head, though. The doctor knew best, right? Maybe I was making all these concerns up.

But I refused to give up. My body was under my control, not some doctor. Not some pregnancy or ovulation test. Mine.

I asked around some more and was given the name of another doctor. I had heard his name before and knew he was an option but had not considered him. I called. I made an appointment. Another man. He got my files from the previous doctor and wanted to do another test called an HSG test. Basically, a catheter is inserted into the uterus and then dye is injected while the uterus is being X-ray-d. It's incredibly painful. It's also expensive. But I wanted answers, so we went through with it. Holy night. I thought my pelvic area would explode. It was the most painful feeling I had ever had, and I've had terrible menstrual cramping in my time. There was screaming...maybe some crying. Definitely some crying. I left bleeding and frustrated. The results were clear. Everything was clear. There were no obstructions and my uterus, ovaries and Fallopian tubes were perfect. All that pain for nothing. I went home and after about 45 minutes, I was met with wave two of The Worst Pain I've Ever Experienced. I spent the weekend, and my sixth anniversary, in bed. I hated everything and everyone. Two doctors, two tests, several blood tests and nothing. It had been three years at this point. Thirty-six negative pregnancy tests. Thirty-six periods. Thirty-six months spent crying and feeling absolutely hopeless. Thirty-six months where I felt like giving up.

Down the depression spiral we go.

It's been almost two years since that first doctor's appointment. We still have not had a baby. We can't. We won't. It is singularly one of the most difficult journeys I've been on. I feel betrayed by my body, by Mother Nature, by my uterus. Every period makes me angry, but not because I am expecting to be pregnant. It feels like a waste of time. It feels useless. Another reminder, every month, right on time. I feel like a failure as a woman and a wife. My value is not in reproduction, but I was looking forward to peeing on the stick and watching both lines turn pink. I was looking forward to telling those I loved and watching my bump grow, feeling my baby moving inside me. Alas.

Thank you for reading. I am sure this was a bit convoluted, but I appreciate you hanging around to the end. That little bit of solidarity is appreciated.

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About the Creator

Erica Hale

I am 30, live in small town, USA, and am married. Living life one day at a time.

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