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Not me. Misery loves company, that's what I always say. So this morning at the clinic, I made it a point to connect with the other women. After all, we could actually be having babies around the same time next year {God I pray this for all of the women there today}. I asked one why the clinic always seems to put a different doctor's name on the form. I thought I saw Dr. Hill but Dr. Eblen was noted this morning. And then I chucked with another about how I can't seem to remember what floor to choose in the elevator for the parking garage. After the countless times I've been to the clinic, you'd think I could recall this simple detail. I wanted her to know I'd been there many times before. . .that I was like her. She laughed and commented how many times she'd been there lately and she should remember as well. There. A connection. Hopefully now she knows she's not alone on her long and exhausting journey.
I feel a strong conviction to drop my guard and do this as much as possible while I visit the clinic over the next couple of months. I'm sure I won't be changing the world by being cordial but perhaps I can help someone feel less alone as they walk this road.
I was cleared this morning to begin another round of Clomid. I'll start the drugs today {please pray they don't make me crazy} and then I'll do a follicular ultrasound next week to make sure I have mature eggs. Too much information?! Sorry, when you've had one of your close friends all up in your fertility you kinda drop your pride when it comes to these things. I appreciate your interest and your prayers. Please believe with me that my lone left ovary will produce the egg I need to conceive this month.
What's your infertility story? Don't be like those women at the clinic. Make eye contact. Post a comment and share your story so others can be encouraged.
Hopeful,
I always thought it was just me who felt awkward in those waiting rooms... especially on that day, my very first "injectable clinic". I'd "graduated" from Clomid to Folistim with a trigger hcg shot, and I had to attend a class on how to not screw up finding enough belly fat to poke so they could trust me with my own set of home syringes. Seriously, how hard could that be?
ReplyDeleteWell, that ended up being the day that nary a sitter in the world could watch my 2-year-old. I couldn't cancel - that would mean another month of waiting - but how long could it reasonably take to teach me how to give myself a daily shot? 10, 15, 20 minutes? Oh, if only I had known. I didn't realize this was going to be a group event that would subject a room full of infertiles to my two-year-old for TWO HOURS.
By the end of three horrible drug-company sponsored demonstration videos, a read-aloud of a 40-page pamphlet, three "MOMMY I GOTTA GO POTTY!!!!" breaks, a scattered box of crayons, a spilled drink and the absolute destruction of a potted plant, I wanted to melt into the box of cracked crayons on the chair next to me. Not only had I been the only person there without a partner (had my husband been available, he would have watched our daugther), but I couldn't decide whether I was guilty of rubbing my existing healthy child in their faces, or worse, turning them off of the idea of procreation completely. Those poor couples - I have no idea on how many levels I offended them. And even if I hadn't, I was embarasses, fatigued, and just wanted to run away.
And, to me, that's the core of all of my waiting room insecurities. How does the person next to me feel about their situation? Are they just beginning and hopeful? Have they suffered the long road of loss and are weary? Is today their very last chance at ever having a child of thier own womb? Or are they going to get their very first glimpses of, what until now, was just a rising HCG number? If I open my mouth is there a greater chance, depending on the hormones of my moment, that I will make things better or worse?
So then I reach for another magazine.
I agree with you that we should be able to support one another, I just never know, in the fragile environment that is an infertility clinic, what to say or, worse, what to do.
I ALWAYS did the same- trying to connect with other women in the clinic (same one you're at!) I actually heard some amazing stories and met some wonderful people doing that. But you're right, everyone seems to have that "awkwardness" about them. Praying for you this month!!
ReplyDeleteThanks for your thoughts girls. Adrienne, I never had to take a class for the HCG injection. Guess they figured I had enough belly fat and couldn't screw it up. : )
ReplyDeleteI love having people share their infertility experiences. So many of us have gone through the same crazy things to fight for our families.
And the battle continues. . .
I can't really remember many waiting room experiences at the fertility clinic--because after only a few visits, I ended up working at mine. To be honest, there is nothing more awkward then going from being an employee to a patient in a matter of minutes. A lot of people thought it was a bit crazy that I was able to work there while going through infertility myself. Not only was it awkward in those moments, but it was incredibly emotional. In the midst of my disappointments and failed treatments, I celebrated with many of my patients, but I also cried and grieved with many of them. I'll never know why we struggled with getting pregnant and keeping pregnancies for 5 years, but now that I look at my 2 children (and one on the way) the struggle, awkwardness, and disappointment was beyond worth it.
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