Fertile monkies

I've heard it said that most women spend the early part of their 20s doing everything in their power to prevent pregnancy and their late 20s terrified they will never get pregnant.

Well, here I am in my mid 30s.

People don't often think about the complications of becoming pregnant.  A couple decides they want to be pregnant.  They stop using birth control and eventually become pregnant.

Unless they don't.

In some ways, we're lucky.  We knew right from the beginning we would need medical assistance in procreation.  We didn't have to do the weeks, months, and years of trying and failing and trying again.  We knew that when we wanted to have children, it would take magic.  I mean... science.

Enter the doctor's appointments, the testing, the consults, the bills, the plans.

It's a strange and awkward place to be when creating a life is less about coming together in a physical expression of love (I totally gagged writing that, but did it just for my sisters who will both die in horror) and more about a medical proceedure when both parties don't even need to be in the same room.
Romantic!

As we trudge through this, it is hard not to resent the fertile. Those who can get pregnant at the drop of a hat.  For someone with infertility issues, the resentment will rear it's head.  Especially, when you are sitting in a hospital waiting room in a backless gown, no underwear, and your running shoes, waiting for someone to tell you if you're broken or just complicated.  I admit, at that moment, I resented the heck out of the fertile.

For us, just becoming pregnant is going to be a huge process -- so far involving 2 doctors, 1 nurse practitioner, 1 ultrasound tech, a whole lotta hormones, and a steady hand with a needle.  The process is overwhelming and interesting, exciting, and terrifying.

And, if all works well, it will result in a baby.

If it doesn't, The Guy has promised we can get another dog.