I sat in the fertility clinic, as I have done quite frequently for the past few months. Sitting around you see mostly women with perhaps few men. Some mornings, there are no men at all. Everyone buries their faces into magazines or stares at their Blackberries. Come on people, we are all here for the same thing! Let’s share our war stories. Infertile couples unite! Poked. Prodded. Injected. Bloated. We share the common bond of medication, countless blood tests and the people who tell that you not to worry, or that it is God’s plan or that some stork will come and you will magically get pregnant. Yet everyone just sits and reads those free magazines. Where is that magical stork?
My story really begins on a breezy summer evening on Long Island, when I stumbled upon a psychic. I was only 20 years old and I had to be coerced by my friends to give it a try. The woman scrutinized my palm and told me many things that I can hardly remember now. The one fact, I do remember clearly is that I was going to have three children. “You are very fertile”, she told me, and “you need to be careful.” I dreaded the thought that I could accidentally get pregnant. What would my parents say? They would be so ashamed. The fear and horror all seems laughable now and painfully ironic. I am an infertile 33 year-old sitting in a fertility office. 1 in 20,000 people have what brought me here.
At 30 years old, I was diagnosed with a large growth on my pituitary gland. Some call it a brain tumor, which sounds very dramatic. See, when you tell people that you had a brain tumor, they all have the same reaction. Eyes open wide and mouths drop open, as if they just accidentally ate a jalapeno. That is why I like to call it “the growth on my pituitary gland”. Perhaps it was caused by all those tequila shots I did in college or the depletion of the ozone layer. Unfortunately, nobody knows how they are caused or why people get them. Most people do not even realize they have them. I wish I knew how it did happen, so that I could warn other people, because it changed my life. I got a really intense migraine one day, or I would never have even noticed it. When the migraine subsided, I could not see correctly. Three days later, after an MRI, I was diagnosed with a pituitary macro adenoma that was pressing on my optic nerve. Without surgery, I would have gone blind or died from a brain hemorrhage. After undergoing surgery 4 weeks later, I lost all the function of my pituitary gland; which controls your thyroid, stress level, blood pressure, sex drive, and reproductive system. It is the control center for your entire body and the reason why I find myself wishing for bountiful fertility at age 33.
Now, every night, my husband injects a needle filled with fertility medication into my belly. I hate needles. I always have and I can’t seem to remember how it started. My veins are tiny, so maybe I had some deranged nurse torture me when I was young and it scarred me for life. I really hate needles, but my husband is very sweet about the whole procedure - clean hands - antiseptic wipe - syringe with medication - Band-aid with a smiley face drawn on it. I went to the doctor once and she noticed my belly of Band-aid artwork, resulting in a perplexed look from her. I explained to her that my husband was the Picasso of infertility injections. I guess we all have our ways of coping. After all, I still hate needles, but I guess I’ve gotten used to them.
I am not sure when I will get pregnant, but it no longer consumes me. I fill my days with crazy foods such as wheat grass shots and gogi berries. I almost bought a fertility goddess through eBay the other day, yet when I really thought about, the practicality of getting pregnant from an eBay purchased fertility figurine was quite comical. If only it was that easy! So, I sit in the fertility clinic knowing deep in my heart it will happen for my husband and I. I look around the waiting area at the nameless faces; I touch my bloated belly full of smiley faces and wonder where that magical stork is?
My story really begins on a breezy summer evening on Long Island, when I stumbled upon a psychic. I was only 20 years old and I had to be coerced by my friends to give it a try. The woman scrutinized my palm and told me many things that I can hardly remember now. The one fact, I do remember clearly is that I was going to have three children. “You are very fertile”, she told me, and “you need to be careful.” I dreaded the thought that I could accidentally get pregnant. What would my parents say? They would be so ashamed. The fear and horror all seems laughable now and painfully ironic. I am an infertile 33 year-old sitting in a fertility office. 1 in 20,000 people have what brought me here.
At 30 years old, I was diagnosed with a large growth on my pituitary gland. Some call it a brain tumor, which sounds very dramatic. See, when you tell people that you had a brain tumor, they all have the same reaction. Eyes open wide and mouths drop open, as if they just accidentally ate a jalapeno. That is why I like to call it “the growth on my pituitary gland”. Perhaps it was caused by all those tequila shots I did in college or the depletion of the ozone layer. Unfortunately, nobody knows how they are caused or why people get them. Most people do not even realize they have them. I wish I knew how it did happen, so that I could warn other people, because it changed my life. I got a really intense migraine one day, or I would never have even noticed it. When the migraine subsided, I could not see correctly. Three days later, after an MRI, I was diagnosed with a pituitary macro adenoma that was pressing on my optic nerve. Without surgery, I would have gone blind or died from a brain hemorrhage. After undergoing surgery 4 weeks later, I lost all the function of my pituitary gland; which controls your thyroid, stress level, blood pressure, sex drive, and reproductive system. It is the control center for your entire body and the reason why I find myself wishing for bountiful fertility at age 33.
Now, every night, my husband injects a needle filled with fertility medication into my belly. I hate needles. I always have and I can’t seem to remember how it started. My veins are tiny, so maybe I had some deranged nurse torture me when I was young and it scarred me for life. I really hate needles, but my husband is very sweet about the whole procedure - clean hands - antiseptic wipe - syringe with medication - Band-aid with a smiley face drawn on it. I went to the doctor once and she noticed my belly of Band-aid artwork, resulting in a perplexed look from her. I explained to her that my husband was the Picasso of infertility injections. I guess we all have our ways of coping. After all, I still hate needles, but I guess I’ve gotten used to them.
I am not sure when I will get pregnant, but it no longer consumes me. I fill my days with crazy foods such as wheat grass shots and gogi berries. I almost bought a fertility goddess through eBay the other day, yet when I really thought about, the practicality of getting pregnant from an eBay purchased fertility figurine was quite comical. If only it was that easy! So, I sit in the fertility clinic knowing deep in my heart it will happen for my husband and I. I look around the waiting area at the nameless faces; I touch my bloated belly full of smiley faces and wonder where that magical stork is?
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