We just sat there and cried . . . in the booth at Chili’s . . . both of us . . . just flat out weeping. Our waiter came to check on us. We must have looked so strange, just sitting there crying. It was like we were paralyzed. One little phone call, a tiny bit of information, and we were paralyzed, crying.
It all started when my sister was pregnant with her first baby. Having been married for a few years, I figured it was time for me to start my family too. I wanted to be “Sister-Moms.” You know . . . those moms who get to do everything together because their kids are the same age? I wanted all of that!
I wanted a baby.
After convincing my husband “it was time,” we started “trying” to get pregnant. Everybody said we’d be pregnant within a few months. We weren’t. After awhile, we started “trying” extra hard by using month after month of ovulation calendars, basal temperatures every morning, even a little microscope that showed ovulation was occurring based on saliva patterns. We tried every position, every time of day, changing our diets . . . we “tried” really hard.
Two years went by and we still weren’t parents. I made an appointment with a gynecologist whose website said she helped people who wanted to get pregnant. When I met with her, she suggested that we were not having sex properly. Seriously? Can you do it wrong?
It didn’t seem like rocket science to me!
But, we went ahead and “tried” for another year or so . . . calendar, thermometer, microscope, period . . . calendar, thermometer, microscope, period.
After I got over my hurt feelings about being told I didn’t know how to have sex correctly, I made another appointment, but this time I called the only fertility specialists (at the time) in Albuquerque. My husband, Ryan, agreed to go with me.
We sat in the doctor’s office waiting. We met with him and his staff. They asked a lot of questions, and over the next few months they ran a lot of tests . . . on me AND on Ryan.
Then, this one night in particular, we went out to eat at Chili’s. Our meal had just arrived when the phone rang, and we recognized the number right away. Every other test had come back inconclusive or normal. Every other time, a nurse had called to tell us the news during normal business hours.
This time, it was after hours, and it was our doctor calling. They had actually found a problem.
So we sat there, in the booth at Chili’s, and ugly cried on top of our forgotten food.
We were unable to conceive.
Incapable. Barren. Childless. INFERTILE.
According to the CDC, 1 in every 8 couples has difficulty creating a family. “Infertility does not discriminate based on race, religion, sexuality or economic status. You never know how badly you want something until you are told that it may not be possible.” (Infertility Awareness Website)
Ever watch “Friends”? I have watched every episode multiple times, but there’s this one episode about infertility that makes me ugly cry every time I watch it. It’s “The One with the Birth Mother.”
Chandler’s words about Monica and their infertility became a description of us after that phone call. We were parents without a baby . . . a family without any children.
Read part 2 of this story here.
Read part 3 of this story here.
Originally published April 2017