What's a Girl Gotta Do To Get Knocked Up Around Here?

by Jen on July 17, 2007

in Teenagers make it look so easy

Fuck. Two down, one to go. After a slew of negative home pregnancy tests, I went in yesterday for my beta and progesterone check. This morning I stopped my progesterone and just have to wait to my period to start before I call my doctor for my third (and last!) cycle of Clomid.

My favorite part of the whole experience yesterday was my longer-than-usual wait to get my blood drawn. I always bring a book, so it wasn’t the actual wait that made me want to scream. No, it was that less than five minutes after I sat down on a couch in the incredibly large waiting room, a couple came in and sat on the couch right across from me, in my own private little living room-style grouping of furniture. I didn’t pay them any attention at all until I overheard the woman tell the man that she thought they should do cord-blood banking. Then I looked up to see that she was holding a pamphlet she had fished out of the plastic goodie-bag given by my OB-GYN to newly-pregnant women. Yay! In a waiting room that has no less than four little “living rooms,” a pregnant woman had wandered into mine! And she wanted to discuss her pregnancy and impending baby with her partner endlessly.

I tried not to obsess about it, tried to force myself not to surreptitiously focus on them, but I couldn’t concentrate on my book any more. I tried to convince myself that it must be their first baby, this all seemed so fresh and exciting to them. My new philosophy is that everyone* is entitled to a first baby.

It still made me want to scream.

I read about Infertility’s Common Thread the other day. I like the idea of the bracelet, an identifying symbol for women who’ve suffered from infertility. I know that when I was pregnant, I wanted people to know it was hard won, not because that I felt it was a badge of honor (well, okay, maybe a little…) but because I didn’t want other infertile women to fell I’d betrayed them. I mean, I was them. It’s shallow, but if I knew that the woman that had sat across from me had struggled to conceive, I wouldn’t have been so bitter. I could have felt a bit of solidarity, I think. Instead of my usual “why is it so fucking easy for everyone else?” (Get it? Fucking easy? Ha.)

So, I’m going to make my bracelet. And I’m going to wear it and explain to people what it means (well, okay, if they ask).

*Well, almost everyone. You know, crack whore and Republicans and the like are excluded.

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