By: Rosy Barren
This morning I was making breakfast when I got a call from my doctor; we had been playing phone tag over the last couple days regarding the next steps of the pre-pregnancy process. I have been trying to get pregnant for 2 years now to no avail. We have done 23 IUI’s. We never tried the old fashioned way because my partner is a woman. Well actually, we did try a couple IUI’s in the privacy of our own home but that didn’t work either. It’s been a heartbreaking battle that I can’t seem to win. I have endured a surgery for endometriosis – which we determined I did have, and even now that it has been removed, I still cannot get pregnant.
As I watched my eggs fry on the stove, I listened to Dr. F explain that it’s time to move on to IVF. I knew this conversation was coming but just couldn’t get myself prepared for it. My salty tears dropped into my breakfast as I nodded my head agreeing with his voice. I know this needs to be my next step, it’s just really hard to admit that I’m that person that this is happening to. It’s a reality that I have infertility issues. I’m only 33 and I’m facing IVF. I’ve been dreading this, the expense, the surgery, the pain of needles and the simple fact that this is the only way I can get pregnant. My partner has been ready for this for the last few months but has been careful not to push me too much. This was a big decision that I needed to come to. I listened carefully as he explained the details of the next steps, shots, needles, endless amounts of medicine, huge expenses, tons of doctors visits, getting put under, bed rest, 12 days later I’ll find out if I’m pregnant. This is what I translated through the clinical words he spoke. I hung up the phone, sobbed, took a deep breath, sobbed some more, tossed my burnt eggs in the trash, leaned against the counter and sobbed some more. I was home alone. I wanted to call someone and I didn’t want to call anyone. What more could I say? They have all given up on me by now. Of course they wouldn’t admit it but more and more discussions of adoption are casually being worked into our conversations, which I resent. With a loving partner by my side I still feel alone and scared and here I go, plunging into the cold icy waters of IVF.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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