It took me reaching the age of 30 before I finally became comfortable in my own skin, but I’m proud of my age and not looking for an opportunity to hide it in any way. That being said, there are some things that come with being in your thirties that don’t make it as pleasurable as one would hope. Top of my list the last few years was what I’ll kindly call the change to your fertile-mertile-ness and the emotional battle that goes along with investigating the whole situation.
Medical investigation and occasionally, for some, intervention becomes a part of the process of starting a family. That’s one of those moments in which you suddenly look around and realize that being an adult blows hard core. It might not be right away, but it will most definitely happen before you’re poked and prodded for what feels like the millionth time.
I managed to not crack through the sonogram and bevy of blood tests that followed, but it was the Hysterosalpingogram (HSG) that put the initial chip in my exterior. I cannot even begin to explain the less than pleasurable experience of an HSG test so instead I’ll provide you with a link to check it out on your own because my summary of the experience includes descriptions such as “injecting boiling lava directly into…” and “worse than waterboarding.”
Upon taking an extended lunch break to go have the HSG done, after starting the day off with blood being drawn for the third time that week, I can admit that planning to return to work was a horrible idea and one that I would never suggest someone else consider trying. I managed to survive the remaining hours at work, but just barely. Throw in the fact that you don’t announce that as being your lunch plans and that you have to return to work with a smile on your face for the rest of the day and I’ll tell you it all adds up to an emotional breakdown the moment you walk in the door of your house. What a way to spend a Friday night!
The whole infertility experience isn’t one that you generally discuss at dinner parties or over drinks with friends, although it should be something that can be discussed so openly but I’ll save that for another time. Instead it tends to be something that only is discussed amongst those involved and therefore can leave you feeling a bit isolated as you face such an emotionally taxing and physically demanding process. While my husband did do his best to find the silver lining out of each doctor’s visit, I couldn’t help but be frustrated that I was the one that was repeatedly subjected to invasive tests. Of course my husband had to go through a few initial ones, but after that he was luckily off the hook. For me, however, the initial tests were just the tip of the iceberg.