In which I learn doctors aren't magicians (part 2 of my infertility story)

If you missed part one, you can find it here.

When I first went to see a specialist about why I wasn't getting pregnant I hardly told anyone. It was taboo. It was inappropriate. It was nobody's business. It was embarrassing. It was unprofessional. And there were also a million other reasons for why I was sure I couldn't tell anyone. Friends who were pregnant were right out. People at work were mostly out. Extended family was out.

I know many other women who have had difficulty or have not been able to conceive. But everyone I knew who had trouble seemed to have had a diagnosis. Either blocked Fallopian tubes or endometriosis or ovarian cysts or something along those lines. My diagnosis was: for some reason the few eggs I have aren't growing. As it turns out, there are many mysterious reasons why some women can't get pregnant.

Best laid plans (my infertility story, part one)

When I was a kid I imagined that I would get married at age 28, have 2 kids and live in a white house with a front porch. I got married 3 weeks into age 29, so not too off the mark there. 

Then the idea was to start having kids a few years later. We bought the condo and I was worried that it wasn't big enough for a baby (because babies take up soooo much space). And so I said we should wait a little longer and Jeff agreed that was wise. He had a rough time with turning 40 and worried that a baby needed a dad who was at a certain point in his career which was not the point he believed he was at. Babies are so demanding! With all their wanting two-bedroom apartments and dads with perfect jobs. 

Needless to say, it wound up being 7 years after we were married before we convinced each other that maybe a baby could forgive us those things. 

Decode me

Do you ever wish for someone to decode you completely? Everything that makes you tick -- the good and the bad -- to be laid out in black and white. Why must we settle for creating those blueprints ourselves, when we are so hindered by what we hope is true for our best selves as opposed to what is truly true of our real selves? How can a person possibly describe herself completely, know herself fully, from the inside? When we look down at ourselves we only see a portion and even with a mirror it's an incomplete view. Certainly we can't describe ourselves completely from this angle. She possesses great empathy and is kind to all, I would begin. But that's not how it appears from the outside, they say. No? Then you tell me how it appears. We see you as an extrovert. Oh don't be ridiculous. I'm a complete introvert. Really? But you do so well in social situations. That doesn't mean... Oh never mind. Maybe I will just do this description myself.