Day 1: I’m scared and alone.

I had my consultation with the fertility clinic on Thursday afternoon.  From a medical standpoint, things went well.  Most of my labwork directly relating to fertility (so far) is normal.  My ultrasound was normal.  My Vitamin D is extremely low and I’m now on a mild prescription dose (jk it’s actually 50,000IU twice a week) of Vitamin D until my number, at the very least, doubles.  I don’t have results back from my AMH, LH, or FSH yet, I don’t know my CMV status (important when deciding on a donor), and I had a full genetic panel done which I should be able to see results from in the next 1-2 weeks.  Next up is the HSG, a super exciting and fun-sounding procedure in which dye is injected into my uterus through a catheter in my cervix to examine the shape of my uterus and whether or not my tubes are open.  Yay!

Anyway, the ball is rolling, and that’s the important part, even if a lot of this is highly unpleasant.

The thing is that I never leave an appointment totally happy.  Because honestly, if my husband were still here, all of this poking and prodding, all of these invasive procedures–they probably wouldn’t be happening; and if they did, at least I’d have him by my side.

I’ve never felt more lonely in my life than I do when I get home from an appointment regarding my fertility.  I spend hours, days even, crying for my husband, wishing he were here to hold me or hold my hand through all of this.

I just want to tell someone about my day.  I want to lie in bed with someone who loves me and can tell me it’s all worth it and wants to hold me and pet my head and rub my feet and promise to be by my side.

And at the same time, I don’t want that, because no one is Ron.

So then I think all I really need is my mom, but of course, she can’t be here at the drop of a hat.  And then I start questioning everything.  Can I do this on my own?  If I can’t even get through this “easy” part, am I ready for the harder stuff down the road?  Am I making a huge, life-altering mistake?  Can someone want something as badly as I want this and still be wrong in the decision they make to pursue it?

Nothing in my life is charted territory.  There are no quick Google searches, no forums online or in person, full of people who have “been there, done that.”  And there is nothing scarier than this isolation right now.

Short stories.

On our first date, Ron and I went to Carl’s Junior.  I drove and bought my own happy meal.  A few days later he decided he needed to take me on a “real date.”  I’m still not sure if Carl’s Junior was a test I needed to pass, or if he was just clueless.

Ron was the life of the party…for about 25 minutes.  This is how “turn up and pass out for Ron” became a thing.  He’d try to keep up with everyone, but instead he’d end up down for the count by 9 pm.  Then he’d wake up at the crack of dawn the next day and wonder where the mess came from–oh, I don’t know dear; could it possibly have accumulated over the remaining 4-6 hours of partying that you slept through?

The number of times I threatened to break up with or divorce him for refusing to turn the A/C on in the car (even driving through the desert in August): 49,764.  The number of times this actually phased him: 0.

Ron gave the best foot rubs, but at some point in the early stages of our relationship, he started remarking that I always had lint between my toes from my socks.  He started calling me “Sock Lint” and when I got a new laptop he set up for me, he even set my Windows username to “Sock Lint”.  In retaliation, I began to refer to him as “Bed Crumbs” because I don’t know how the hell he managed this, but that man never, ever had crumb-free sheets.

At one point, we were at a dive bar/strip club in Portland when I pointed out that one of the dancers looked like my girl crush, Krysten Ritter.  Ron proceeded to buy me a couple of AMFs in a row, and before I knew it, I was drunk and being grinded on by the nude Krysten Ritter look-alike.  My one and only private dance; thanks babe.

My mom tells me often that the couple of weeks she spent helping us move in to our Colorado apartment was the most she really got to see Ron and I interact as a couple, and she will never let me forget a moment when I was just sitting around, and Ron walked in the door, looked at me, and said “Man, you’re beautiful.”

I still remember what it felt like to run my fingers through his hair and pinch his squishy earlobes.  I remember what his big toenails looked like–they were perfectly round, and once he let me paint them neon green but then refused to let anyone, including me, see him without socks on for weeks. I can picture the exact position he’d be in while sitting at his desk drinking a beer.  I can still hear him laughing at the weirdest shit on Youtube and now my heart is racing because I just want it all back.

Day 0: Let me field some questions.

Disclosure: Nothing I write is meant to shame anyone who has experienced unplanned pregnancy, or any decisions that they’ve made leading to the pregnancy or thereafter.  This is simply my personal experience.

I’ve known I’ve wanted children for as long as I can remember.  I’ve also made the conscious and responsible decision not to rush the process.  I chose to do everything in my power to prevent unplanned pregnancy or pregnancy at a time when I didn’t feel as financially, emotionally, or physically secure as possible.

When Ron and I made the decision to try to start our family, we had been together for 6 years, and had been discussing the possibility and getting our ducks in a row for at least the latter half of those 6 years.  We waited until we were at one of the strongest, happiest points in our relationship; we waited until we were financially comfortable and secure in our living situation; we waited until we both felt that the joy of welcoming and raising a child would outweigh the sacrifices we’d make to do so.

In the several months we spent actively trying to conceive, it was one of the most exciting things we’d ever decided to do together, and we both wanted it more than anything else.  We would spend evenings talking about baby names and visions for our future and hopes and dreams for our future child–as well as things like which medical insurance would be best, how we’d manage childcare and work schedules, and what we could cut to add room in our budget to save for a down payment on a home.

The decision that I’ve recently made to move forward with starting a family was made with the same thinking, planning, and scrutiny now as it was when it was Ron and I were making the decision together.  It was not made in haste.  It was not uneducated–as a matter of fact, I think there are very few things I have researched more extensively.  It was not made to fill a void–and if anything, the reality of the situation and the gravity of now making these decisions and experiencing this process without Ron has deepened the sense of loss that I feel.

Continue reading Day 0: Let me field some questions.