STEP AWAY FROM THE IPAD

Don't let my husband leave town for a business trip. I skip dinner, don't make the bed for days and stay up till 1 a.m. sobbing over strangers' infertility blogs. Yeesh.

AN APOLOGY

Dear front-desk person at the fertility clinic,

I’m sorry I was rude toward you on Sunday morning. You see, it was 9 a.m., and already a transvaginal wand had been probing around my desolate uterus. And now, you won’t allow me to make an appointment for a follicular scan on Monday, because Monday is a holiday, and I am frustrated because certain steps need to be taken on certain days, and my ovaries don’t celebrate Labor Day.

I tried to tell you in a nice way that when I was on the phone with the nurse a few days ago, she specifically instructed me to make an appointment for the morning of Labor Day, because I will be out of town the day before. But then you looked at me with a withering stare that said, “Your travel plans are not my problem,” and I may have lost my temper with you a bit. Or went totally berserk, it’s hard to say.

I must admit, your attitude was less than stellar, but going into work to deal with sad, desperate infertiles is probably not your favorite thing to do on a Sunday morning. And you are not alone. The rest of your staff, for the most part, is equally brusque, checked out or clueless.

I’ve been called the wrong name by a doctor I’ve never seen before while laying on my back in a surgical suite, bare vag to the sky, in order to have dye pumped through my fallopian tubes. I’ve had a plebotomist complain to me about her kids while drawing my blood. I’ve been confused by the patient coordinator, barked at by your finance department, overwhelmed by handouts, and forced to ask the nurse exactly when to have “timed relations” while sitting in my office cubicle on the phone.

For all this, I’m paying your clinic hundreds of dollars. And we’re only just beginning.

We were hoping for answers, but instead I got a prescription for a breast-cancer drug that’s being prescribed off-label, because your employer can’t really figure out what’s wrong with us. And standing before you, begging you to schedule me an appointment to have my follicles checked, is not something I ever, in a million years, imagined myself doing. Yet there I was.

So you’ll have to forgive me that I lost my temper. If you had let me schedule the appointment, I could rest assured that everything would be on track for Philip to shoot me up with a syringe full of hormones in 11 days. That is all I want in life right now. ALL. I. WANT. And you were standing in my way. So I got upset.

But I recognize that you were just trying to do your job, and my infertility is not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. There’s no one to be mad at, so I got mad at you, which isn’t fair. I apologize. I promise it won’t happen again. At least not as long as someone else is manning the front desk the next time I come in.

Sincerely,

Erika

RITES OF PASSAGE FOR THE FERTILE, PART 1*: THE GENDER REVEAL

I just got invited to a baby-gender-reveal dinner. The couple will get a sealed envelope containing the ultrasound results and bring it to Publix. Then Publix will make a cake with either blue or pink filling. When they cut the cake after dinner, the filling will indicate the gender.

My jealousy and pain make me think I can't handle attending this event. However, my conscience says I should suck it up and be supportive. Also, I really like Publix cake.

What should I do?

*There will likely not be a Part 2.

ALUMNI UPDATE

Periodically I get a newsletter from my college campus ministry that contains updates about my former classmates. These nuggets are an opportunity for people to share about their thriving families and many church involvements. Here is an example:

Herb and Shania (Jenkins) Jones* have been married for four years. Shania attended CCH from 2002-2006. She graduated in May 2007 with a degree in social science. Herb and Shania live in Butterworth, IN*, with their daughter, Apple Blue Ivy* (5 mos.), and Shania is a stay-at-home mom. Shania says Apple Blue Ivy is a gift from God, and they love watching her learn and grow! Herb and Shania's home church is Jesus Bible Faith Community*, where they are involved in children's ministry, and Herb helps lead meetings. Shania said being involved in their church has been a blessing to them and others. [Address, phone, email]

I have thought about writing in with my own update. It would go something like this:

Philip and Erika (Larson) Hueneke have been married for seven years. Erika attended CCH from 1998-2002. Erika is senior weddings editor of Destination Weddings & Honeymoons magazine, and Philip is a project manager at Lockheed Martin. Erika and Philip have been without a church home for so many years, they have lost count. They have tried at least eight congregations over the last few years, but their pickiness, criticalness and sheer laziness prevent them from committing anywhere. They do attend a small group, which is limping along at six members. Erika and Philip live in Orlando, Florida, with their two cats, upon which they dote uncontrollably. They have been infertile for 1.5 years, and this month they began diagnostic treatments, which involve multiple blood tests, a semen sample and several intimate encounters with a transvaginal wand. [Address, phone, email]

*Identifying names and places have been changed to protect nice, well-meaning strangers who don't deserve to be mocked in this blog.