Detailed First Meeting

Tension hung heavy in the air. Heavy knots formed in my stomach and the cold, icy rain beat a steady rhythm outside. The mood for our exciting day began dauntingly.

I started this important day at six am. I sluggishly got up to head to work, followed by an eye appointment for Willie (where I picked up my wonderful new glasses), and ending with my final class right before Thanksgiving holiday. After class, I hurried to submit my holiday order for my Starbucks store before getting ready.

As I was getting ready, I took another shower (in my Willie voice). There is something about water that calms me. The shower is so tranquil. The cascading water helps to wash away all my fears, purify me, yet strengthen me for our time ahead. I could not decide on what to wear. I thought about the image I should portray. I wanted to go to the meeting looking professional and put together perfectly, but ultimately my true self won out. I dressed in a pink, white, and silver Aeropostale shirt with gray sweatpants and my multicolored rain boots (though predominately pink). I informed Willie that he would drive, but drove anyway because he drives way too slow especially when we are running late (which is always even to our own wedding!). The traffic was heavy and we arrived shy of 20 minutes early.

Upon arrival, we signed in, with Willie trudging off to a not so comfy seat and I surrendering my insurance card and license. I stood there to have my picture taken and then proceeded to fill out the many forms given to me. Among the forms were: a medical  release, financial information of what my insurance covers, the policies of REACH, and the privacy practices of REACH. After those forms were completed, scanned, and given back to me, we proceeded to wait. Willie passed the time on his phone, while I passed the time watching HGTV on the waiting area television and avoiding eye contact. The couples in the waiting area were all mature and sophisticated. While we had showed up in our lazy day clothes, they were dressed to impress. These older couples had undoubtedly come from work. They looked like GQ and sexy Victoria Secret models dressed for the business world. I was uncomfortable. I wished I had given in to my urge for a good first impression. Feeling sorry for myself, we did not have to wait long, though it felt like eternity.

We were shown to exam room one. Here the nurse recorded my height, weight, blood pressure, pulse, allergies, and "social habits"(smoking, drinking, drug use, etc...). She also gave us more paperwork and briefly explained them. In this packet there was: information about genetic testing, telephone communication, a compassionate care program, and information on all the fertility treatments that REACH offers. After this, we were taken to another waiting area. It was here that I read over all the paperwork. Before we could move forward with treatment, we had to consent or decline the genetic testing, which was never given a thought. The genetic testing would be for cystic fibrosis (CF), spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), and fragile x syndrome. I pondered for a moment then asked Willie his opinion. He did not care and told me that we should go through with it. I on the other hand, felt that we did not need to. I did not want to know the potential hazards that we could pass on to our child. I wanted to simply make this experience as normal as possible. I wanted to be able to love our future, potential children without thinking about what conditions they would have. I read, read, and read some more until finally we were called into the doctor's office. Here the doctor went over our and our families' medical histories. He decided that I would need a pelvic exam and blood samples for TSH (and two other reasons that I can not remember at the moment), while Willie would need a semen analysis. After the tests were completed, we were able to check out and head into the cold, icy rain again towards home.

We did not make it home until seven. We made a pit stop by Buffalo Wild Wings. It was here we discussed our options and I shed a few tears. We talked about blame and whose fault it would be if we could not have children. I did not want to think about fault, because I did not care. I needed to identify the problem so that I could find a solution resulting in us pregnant. Willie thought that blame was important. He was weighing in on what would happen if it were his fault. I believe this thought originated after the doctor said that everything in my pelvic exam seemed fine. From the outside (or should I say inside), my side of the equation seemed perfect today (minus the blood work results). Though if I did have problems, there are multiple procedures, drugs, and even egg donation for solutions. The options for him are limited if it were to be his fault. If there is little sperm, then IUI (intra uterine insemination or artificial insemination) could be possible, where they take a sperm sample concentrate it and inject it right into my uterine cavity. The other two options, available if he has no viable sperm, is adoption or a sperm donor. It broke my heart to hear Willie discuss our options. I forced him to because he was only concentrated on taking things one step at a time, but I needed to know his thoughts, feelings, and expectations. He gave me an answer and I would give a thousand lives to take that moment back. He sounded so defeated, angry, and sad. Where was my strong, alpha husband? He was so passionate and felt that I was not listening and could not understand, but what he does not know is that I was listening. I was understanding too. I just could not bear to hear the pain in his voice discussing if it was him so I thought how I would give my life to start over again and have us be normal with children by now. Considering sperm donation and adoption, he talked about our child growing up. He discussed the fact that the child would not look like him and he could not determine the traits the child inherited because it would not be a part of him. I understood that so much. It hurt to know that he wanted a blood connection so bad, while I just needed a child. I know that I would carry the child though, so I could not understand the exact position he held. So I made a decision. I offered that if his test did come back with bad results, we would get a sperm donor, but I would also get a egg donor too. I did this because we are a team. I never want him to be alone, to suffer alone, or to think that he is fighting alone. I am his wife, his right hand person, his foundation, and the person catching him when he falls. He would not take my offer though, so I hope and I pray that these results will come back with good results. No matter what though, this future child will have wonderful parents. This child will question me, strut around just like Willie, and rival his father's humor and habit in making me produce my loud, embarrassing laughter. No matter what, this child will be a part of both of us in so many ways and most of all he or she will be OURS! I think of this child and us raising him or her with unconditional love.

Am I right or am I wrong?

Tomorrow is our first infertility meeting with our doctor at REACH (Reproductive Endocrinology Associates of Charlotte). I would be lying if I said that I was not terrified.

I do not want to know if we are broken, but it is essential that I find out. One always wants to be right, the one with all the answers and in control. This time though, I think I would like to be wrong. No wait, I would like to be..... I am so confused. If I am right, there is a problem which may or may not have a solution. If I am wrong, then we would be stuck with the question "Why can we not get pregnant?". I do not know which side of this coin is better and I would not want to choose. Given the choice, I would want to avoid this whole situation. I would like for us to be fully normal.

Upon the discovery of the definition of infertility, I immediately applied it to us. It seemed fitting, especially since there were no other explanations. Tomorrow, we will learn if we are: truly defined by an entry within a medical book, a part of a topic studied in various research, or the thought haunting and hounding many sorrowful yet hopeful minds. We will learn if we are a statistic: the 1 in 8 couples suffering from infertility or two out of 7.3 million people affected by infertility. Tomorrow, my belief will either be validated or contradicted.

Belief is such a strong word. Can I waver in my belief? Is it fair to be on the fence yet support something, such as infertility, so passionately? Infertility has me whirling in circles. I can not figure out which way is up and which way is down. I do not understand the infertility proprieties. How should I feel and act? Should I wear my mask and show an expressionless face? Will indifference make me feel better? Or should I show helplessness by sobbing and weeping? Maybe shocked is a good expression to wear. All I know is that the truth hurts, but sometimes preparedness softens such hard blows.

Tests will be ordered. Our medical histories will be dissected. Answers will try to be coaxed from the many page results newly printed. I am left wondering will the right answers reveal themselves? Will I be proven right or wrong? I know that I am in good hands, because we went shopping around for this place and this particular doctor. I can not doubt my judgment further. I guess I will have to wait patiently (which is not one of my strong suits) and see!

The Beginning

Am I suppose to write from the beginning, beginning or just my infertility beginning? Hmmm.... I think I will start from the true beginning because with more details, comes more understanding.

My name is Simone (which of course you can tell by reading my profile information). I am the practical, unspoiled middle child of three total children. I graced this earth late October of 1991. My older brother is the wild child and my little sister is the bane of my existence. I am and was the nerdy, quiet child. I am my father's daughter. I love him tremendously, though he is rarely seen. I am my mother's daughter. I love her unconditionally. All that I am and ever hope to be I owe to her.

I attended various schools, eventually graduating from Rock Hill High school in June 2009. I attended Winthrop University. After three grueling years filled with summer school, extra full semesters, and a botched study abroad trip to Queensland, Australia, I graduated cum laude in May 2012. I earned a B.A. in psychology with a minor in health care management. I completed a semester internship at my local Department of Juvenile Justice, which I enjoyed tremendously.

In the fall of my first year of high school (2006) at the tender age of 14, I met my future husband: Willie Gaston IV. He is the child of my mother's now ex best friend. He is my soul mate, my love, my best friend, my opposite, my better half, the future victim of my inevitable murder plot, and the future father of my precious children. We started dating December 14th. Upon my high school graduation at 17, I moved out with him. From then on, I began to lie to him by telling him that we would be married by the time I was 18. It would take two more extra years. We were married on December 14th, 2011 at the York Wedding Chapel in York, SC. It was very small since we were young and broke, but still beautiful, meaningful, and oh so precious. Our wedding night consisted of falling asleep from exhaustion because of work and moving to a new apartment. The next day, there was no honeymoon but simply another workday. This year, our 2nd wedding anniversary, will be marked with a five day Jamaica cruise with family porting out of Miami, FL. Finally a much needed vacation/honeymoon!

We decided in January of 2012 that we would try to conceive. I was on birth control since the age of 14, therefore we knew it would take time. I discussed this with my doctor and the plan was then started. I wanted a child so bad, but at the same time I sighed with relief every month when I was not pregnant. As a year passed, which my doctor said was the minimum wait for the birth control to lose effect, we (rather I), became impatient. I realized that I was at the point in my life where a child would be welcomed. I craved a baby, a major change, a creation of our making. When we were first married, everyone believed we were pregnant. After trying, trying, and trying again, my frustration was to the breaking point. Whenever someone asked about us "finally having some babies", I would tersely inform them that we couldn't. It was here in these situations that everyone would tell us (mostly me) that it would happen eventually when the time was right.  After a year, I began to research infertility. I found useful websites like thebump.com, REACH, RESOLVE, etc... It was on these sites that I stumbled across the infertility definition: the inability to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term after 12 months of trying to conceive.  If you are over the age of 35, the time of trying to conceive is reduced to 6 months. In my heart, I knew this was us. My head and my husband tried so hard to deny it, but this was indeed our inconceivable truth. From that point on ( around late February of this year), I began to inform everyone that we were infertile. Still, we got the right time and how young we are speeches, but what they did not understand was that every month that we did not conceive was torture. They did not understand that this journey breaks me down and makes it hard for me to breathe. It makes me feel like we are failing and that I am so undeserving/unworthy. It has me wondering am I broken? I am a practical, way too put together person and this painful journey has shattered my world into a million pieces. Life was suppose to have a plan, yet because of this infertility mystery here we are without one.....