My Infertile Identity

Hello, my name is Jennifer, and I'm infertile.

For reasons I can't explain, I have a need to document my journey, my experience, my feelings in dealing with the diagnosis I've been given, the life I've been given.

I suppose my story starts like many others.  I met the man I'd spend the rest of my life with and immediately began dreaming of our life together: picture-perfect home, happy careers, 3 or 4 kids, living a life I didn't have growing up.  Don't get me wrong, my life as a child wasn't terrible; but I knew I needed, wanted more.  I wanted the stereotypical American family dream.

My husband and I married in 2006; bought our first home in 2007; established our careers about that time as well.  We soon realized we were ready for the next part: children.

Warning: this may get a little too personal for some.  But I feel it's necessary to understand my entire mindset throughout this journey.

I remember the first time my husband and I intentionally had sex with the purpose of making a baby.  I think we were both a little scared, but also so very aware of the momentous occasion.  For years, we'd practiced safe sex because we knew we weren't ready to be parents.  But here we were, letting go of that safety net to fall into the unknown.  We were pleasurably taking the next step into what could be the hardest role of our lives.  But we were so excited for it!

We knew that it could take some time, but I remember the first few days following that first time thinking, I should be careful lifting this, or, There could be a little "us" in there.

How naive.

Yes, I'm a bit bitter.

We began collecting items here and there for the nursery, not really dedicating ourselves to making a true nursery just yet but if we saw something that we liked, we bought it.  We went through some of our childhood things and gathered old toys and stuffed animals.  We were doing this, we were going to be parents, and it was an exciting time.

So life goes on, you get caught in the everyday, you keep trying, but it isn't truly a real focus.

Until a year or so goes by and you realize, you still aren't pregnant.  Is it really supposed to take that long?  All my life, it was "Don't have sex or you'll get pregnant."  So, I'm having sex, but I'm not getting pregnant.  Something doesn't match up here.

Most people, at this point, go to their doctor and begin the whole infertility process.  We would have too, but at that point, our world got turned upside down and then imploded.  We both lost our jobs around the same time, which in turn had us selling our home and moving back to our hometown, living in a small camper on my in-laws' property until we could get something more permanent settled.  Then each of our moms passed away within 3 months of each other, and we were left to pick up those pieces.  Before we knew it, 3 or 4 years had gone by since that "first time," and we still had no baby.

Which, looking back, it would have been hell to have tried to raise a child during everything that happened.  Blessing in disguise.

That's what we keep telling ourselves.

After life settled, we once again focused on starting a family.  After a few visits to my doctor, I glanced a peek at my chart: Unexplained Infertility.  She never actually told me, but deep down I knew something wasn't right. And seeing the actual words on her chart as my official diagnosis - a confirmation - was a shot through the heart.

My name is Jennifer, and I'm infertile.





Photo cred: Photo by Stanislav Kondratiev on Unsplash