Back to square one. Or two, if you want to count learning why I’m infertile as square one. Nonetheless, I was no closer to being a mother than I was a year prior to this. It’s now October 2016.
At this point I was refusing to go down quietly without a fight in my battle with infertility. I wasn’t going to accept that I simply had blocked tubes and that was the end. Why were they blocked? What is causing the issue? Why won’t anyone help me?
The next month consisted of more research. I was determined to find someone to help. I stumbled upon an infertility clinic in Downers Grove, Illinois. Much to my delight they also happened to have a satellite office five miles away. The doctor there performed tubal ligation reversal procedures (which is medical speak for they undo tube ties) so I thought for sure he would be able to help me.
We booked a consultation and I counted down the days. It’s a complicated emotion to have hopes that someone will agree to cut you open and fix you, but I was open to just about anything at this point. Even IVF. We had no other option, besides adoption, but I still had hope.
I remember sitting in the waiting room for what felt like an eternity. I had so much hope and yet equally as much trepidation in my heart. I couldn’t face yet another heartbreak. I couldn’t handle another let down. It had been over a year already and we had gotten nowhere.
That’s the thing about infertility… it’s a waiting game. A brutal and unfriendly, bitterly lonesome one at that. If you’re lucky, you find a good doctor right off the bat who knows what they’re doing, and you end up pregnant quicker. And then there’s the rest of us. Those lost in the shuffle with no answers and all the despair.
Stay tuned for part 7.