Today, I am 29 years old. I can't believe it. Part of me feels like I should still be riding around in my '93 Mustang, blaring "Baby Got Back." (Who am I kidding? I still bump to "Baby Got Back," I just do it in a Camry.) Still, I just don't feel like I am old enough to be an adult, let alone be in my last year of my twenties.
Sure, I have owned my own home for almost 10 years. I have a good job. I have a great family. But, I know that my life is "missing something." Expanding upon this week's earlier post about being honest with myself, I figure now is as good as any time to tell the blogosphere about my "missing something."
I have a fertility condition known as polycystic ovarian syndrown (PCOS). It is a pretty common condition that results in high insulin levels in the female. The high insulin levels, and subsequent high testosterone levels, make it difficult for the woman to ovulate. Ovulation is THE most important step in getting pregnant...well, except for that whole "conception" part. Anywho, I self-diagnosed myself with PCOS with the help of a friend (Hey, Amanda!) and I was later officially diagnosed by a physician.
In the last six years, I have seen fertility specialists (also called "reproductive endocrinologists"), taken fertility drugs, had a cervical dilation performed, had a hysterosalpingogram (HSG), had one artificial insemination, and dozens of other tests and lab work performed. Still no baby. Clomid (the fertility drug that I took for eight months), made me a raging "B" and it made my hair fall out. The cervical dilation hurt like hell. And the monthly visits from Mother Nature were reminders of my unwelcome failures.
At any rate, when I pictured my life as a 20something, children were definitely in the picture. I would have never imagined that I would be "That Girl." The infertile one. The one who, when people find out about her hardship, they frown politely and tsk-tsk at her unfortunate hand of cards.
Know what can make you feel like a failure faster than anything? Being infertile and working in a mother-baby unit. Okay, so maybe I'm not "infertile," but after six solid years of trying to conceive, it sure can feel like a barren wasteland south of my belly-button.
Even worse than the tsk-tskers, are the ones who think they know where I'm coming from, just because they tried to get pregnant for SIX WHOLE MONTHS! Oh, the horror!
The fertility rollercoaster ride of the last six years has been exhausting to me and my marriage. Although, it would be one boring rollercoaster considering the only "highs" that we have had are when we finally found the Clomid dose that made me ovulate and the one time (two months ago) when we had a positive pregnancy test...a false positive. The rest of the rollercoaster ride has been one long "low" valley.
That being said, I'm not asking for pity. I'm not even asking for kind words of advice. I am just being honest with myself (and the three whole people who read my blog). My battle with inferility has caused mental clutter. It has made me feel like an inadequate excuse for a woman. The most basic task women were given, to procreate, is one that I cannot seem to do. Yet, all I see are women who can do it...and do it often. Even more frustrating are the "ladies" (a term that I am using loosely) that can seem to get pregnant by just looking at a random male cross-eyed. But, that is still my burden to bear. That is my mental clutter that I have to deal with. I don't know how I am going to do it, but I am going to QUIT thinking of myself as a failure just because I can't do one thing. I am going to focus on the other things that I am good at and continue to excel in them. I am going to banish this mental clutter from my mind because I am a strong and smart woman.
Now, I just have to find that damn dustrag.