Monday I had a doctor appointment for infertility.  After a year plus of trying to conceive and consistently no luck Alex and I talked things over and said, alright we cave. So off to the doctor I went.

Let me just say that doctor appointment was probably one of the hardest appointments I’ve ever had to sit and wait for. Here I am in the waiting room where pregnant woman after pregnant woman arrives, and new baby after new baby arrives and just so much BABY is in the air. And the whole reason I’m there, is because we can’t reach that. I almost cried twice. Then I got frustrated with myself for feeling jealous and frustrated and sick and tired of all that is baby.

I cried once when I just was sitting there look at all these other Mom’s and thinking deep in my heart that “Why? Why not us? What is wrong with my body that we can’t get there?” That’s the predominant and probably hardest feeling for Alex to understand, that hits me whenever this subject comes up. Your whole life as a female you are told that “women make the babies.” Maybe you don’t WANT a child, and that’s perfectly reasonable, but you know that your body is designed biologically speaking, to carry out this task. Here we are wanting this to happen, trying (don’t think on that one please) for our turn to come, and hoping and hoping and still nothing. The facts point to my side of the family so every single time reality strikes as a big fat no I’m left feeling like a failure. Like I’m broken. And this dream, or lack of one, is my fault.

Then I almost start crying when I’m sitting in the highly crowded “mini-waiting room” (and does anyone else’s doctor have one of these? It’s like they call you from the waiting room and take your weight, etc and then you get to wait again….in a more crowded environment.) and this new mom who is sitting right beside me with her 6 week old son asks me if I’m pregnant since everyone else we’re sitting beside is clearly ready to pop so to speak. I respond no, but we’re trying and she says well here, hold my son for good luck. Y’all I about burst into big, fat, CROCODILE TEARS right then and there because he just snuggled up to me and did a big sigh (as big a sigh as a 6 week preemie can) and then fell asleep.

So when all was said and done with the appointment I was left with four things of lab paperwork and several more doctor visits wherein we’ll try to find out what on earth is broken with me. My family history is so widespread that they decided they’ll pretty much just look for it all right off the bat rather than starting small.

Yes we have a direction. Yes Alex is trying to understand, but he’s limited in this scope. So right now the biggest and hardest feeling is feeling alone and broken and my husband so desperately wants to “fix” things and I have to be brave and strong so that doesn’t feel that way because our reality is he can’t fix it this time. Broken car. FIX! Broken cabinet door. FIX! Dinner. FIX! (Sometimes) but Broken Fertility….not fixable by a husband. (Unless he’s an OB/GYN. And that still would be just too weird for me.)

We’re not making this into a pity party, it’s not. Its reality and I find myself soooooo grateful we live in a time and country where the doctors that have the knowledge to overcome the issues are easily accessible to me. The next steps involve testing of hormones, testing of um, our parts, and an X-Ray for me. The last one confuses me a tad, but I’m going to ask for more info at the next appointment. All in all it will be interesting.

So for now that’s where things stand. I just, I need to vent and since the blog is about our marriage adventures, y’all get to come along on this one.