It Started As a Hunch.

I always had a hunch.  A hunch that it wouldn’t be as easy for me to start a family as it seemed to be for everyone around me.  But, I’ve had a hunch about a lot of things in life – mainly that I’d win the lottery regardless of my playing it – and many of them have fallen through.  I used to share my suspicion with close friends like I do with other silly thoughts that come and go – Am I getting an old lady butt?  I’m terrified that when I actually want a baby, I’ll be infertile!  Is it just me or would Kate Beckinsale play me while that guy who plays “Joel” on Parenthood plays Andy in the story of our life?  This particular thought – the one about my perceived inability to procreate – was always received with a simple; “we all think we can’t have kids until we turn up pregnant!"

For me and my husband, this hunch has proved to be something more.  This is our story.  And, let me clarify that this story is in laymen’s terms because everything I have found to this point about this whole infertile subject is very stiff, very Doogie Howser, MD sounding. 

My hunch became more of a reality as my period grew increasingly heavy and intolerable.  I remember quite clearly the day I was wearing a “champagne” colored bridesmaid dress as something more the color of merlot began leaking down my leg {despite me already using multiple feminine products}.  I remember hobbling to the bathroom to clean-up and calling my {pregnant} sister for reinforcements in the form of diaper-like pads.  Anyone who knows the pain of “trying,” knows that the reminders of babies and families are everywhere.  Even in our underwear!  Ah, touché life… touché!

This was month one of “trying.”