The few versus the many

So, if you're reading this, you probably already know that I'm a nestie because you probably clicked on my blog link in one of my posts to arrive here. I reached a milestone in my nestiness a few weeks ago...I attended my first Nest get together or GTG since acronymns amuse me.

Someone posted about the get together on the TTC 6+ Months board which is where I usually spend my time. First off, the GTG was at Panera's which is my favorite. I love their tuna fish sandwich. It's so good it should be called some other word that means something way better than food. I would attend a meeting about how to properly file taxes or how to identify amoebae if it meant I could eat at Panera's. Second, it's a get together! What fun!

However.....

A few days before the get together, I have a horrible thought. What if I'm the token infertile girl? This is followed up with other equally awful questions. What if there are pregnant people there? Like, really pregnant people? Who all got pregnant on their first try or, even worse, when they weren't (whispers) even trying? What if someone tells me I should "just relax" or "take a vacation" and I'll get knocked up? What if I am rude to a nestie who tells me to "just get drunk" and I'll end up pregnant? What if, after an insensitive comment, I end up using the swear words and storm out (resulting in a bad nestie reputation!)? What was initially very exciting is now causing me major anxiety. For the next few days, I proceed to completely freak out.

Saturday rolls around. I put on a cute outfit and even do my makeup extra nice so that at least I'll look good when someone insults my infertility which I am now fairly certain will happen. I think about chickening out, but the tuna sandwich's allure is too strong. I get in the car and head to Panera's, my stomach in knots the whole way.

I'm the first one to get there. I circle the joint. Nobody's an obvious choice for being a nestie. Back out the door to hang out.

A few minutes later, a nestie approaches. I just know....my age-ish, alone, dressed cute, she's here for the GTG. We chat and wait for the other girls to arrive. Within a few minutes, all five of us are there.

After ordering, we spend a little time feeling each other out with casual chitchat. And then.....one of the girls mentions her RE! My ears perk, it is now impossible for me to be the token infertile. There's definitely at least two of us. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Within ten minutes, every girl there is talking about her infertility. Aaahhhhh! I'm dying from excitement! It's not that I find joy in my newfound friends' infertility struggles, it's just that I'm not alone. For the first time since this whole mess started, I'm sitting around, a group of five women, casually talking about our infertility. The feeling is something that I can't quite capture in words. It was beautiful. And it brought me so much comfort. A certain comfort that fertile women's words just can't provide me.

Couples go back and forth about who they should tell about their infertility. We struggle with privacy issues. It is afterall a pretty intimate topic. And we fear the insensitive comments that inevitably come, often from people who mean no harm and are just trying to help. I can't and don't want to tell anyone else how to deal with their infertility. I can only speak for myself. I never truly know how someone will react to my infertility until I tell them. People have and will continue to make stupid remarks about it. But, I will take the good with the bad. With the negative comments from a few has come love, support and sharing of stories from so many. Sometimes the people whose reactions most concern me are the very ones who surprise me with the most supportive comment. When I keep my infertility hidden, I inevitably feel an odd sense of shame, as though my unwillingness to throw it out in the open leads me to believe that I am a failure in some way. Infertility is one of the greatest challenges I have ever faced. As I walk this long, difficult journey, I want as many hands to hold along the way as possible.

HSGee whiz, my tubes are clear!

I got my HSG done last week. Everything looked good, thank God. Here goes....

I arrived at the hospital early as I was told with all of my proper paperwork. I was more nervous than I anticipated, not so much that I would have something wrong with me but that it would hurt. When I scheduled my appointment, the nurse explained that I would be brought in right away because I was the first HSG of the day. I waited for a while in my chair right next to the check-in counter.

Reading a magazine kept me busy for a bit but then I was just pretending to read. I was too nervous to focus. People-watching was an easier, less mentally challenging task. I wondered why each person was there and what they were getting x-rayed. Nobody seemed a logical choice to fall into my infertility category either because of their age or the fact that they were wearing a huge cast. Hmmm...another lonely IF adventure.

Until I spied a couple approaching the counter. I couldn't help but check them out. Are you infertile, too? How long have you been trying? Are you the only infertile person you know of? Do you cry as much as I do? Could we hold hands? (OK, maybe the last question would be awkward.) Sure enough, the woman explained to the receptionist behind the counter that she was here for her HSG! I'm not alone. I'm sitting 3 feet from another infertile couple!

I pretended to keep reading but I couldn't help but fixate on the couple now seated just a few seats away from me. He had his arm around her and they were reading a magazine together.

My watch showed that I had been waiting for 40 minutes. When the hell was I going to be taken back? Twenty seven students and one clock-watching principal were waiting on me. I approached the counter and asked if I would be seen soon and explained that my HSG was scheduled for 12:30. I was told that I would be taken back shortly.

"Are you nervous?" a voice urgently asked. It was the other woman. I told her that yes, I definitely was. She told me how anxious she was and how she was afraid it would hurt. We shared our concerns, validated each other's feelings and I offered her a kid's sticker from a roll on the counter. Hey, if some 10 year old gets a sticker for x-raying a broken arm, we absolutely deserve one for having a catheter shove dye through our fallopian tubes. I took two.

I was eventually called back for my procedure. The woman and I said goodbye and I assured that if she was here when I came out, I would let her know what it was like. The RE prepped me by explaining everything that would happen and talked me through the procedure as he did it. It hurt but it was a manageable amount of pain. There were 3 people in the room for the event which seemed like a lot of people to be hanging out with my vagina.

I was struck by how close the RE had to get to my vagina. He really had to lean in there to make sure the catheter and everything was placed correctly. My knees were bent about halfway and resting on the table. When I looked down at him, his head was so close to my knees. He looked like he was going to crawl in! Nobody but my husband has had their face that close to my crotch in a very long time. That was a little embarrassing, but the doctor was extremely professional. Also, when the x-ray tech was doing all of his stuff getting the equipment centered on my abdomen and all that, the RE had to hang out "down there" to make sure that everything stayed where it should. That was awkward, too...y'know, on account of my nudity from the waist down. I'm not gonna lie. He spent a lot of time down there for barely knowing me.

Everything looked good, I thanked the doctor and headed out. As I stepped through the doorway, the couple was sitting in the hallway to my right. The woman had her head in her hands and when I walked out she looked up at me expectantly. You know how, on TV and in the movies, when the doctor is in the room working on somebody, and the person's family is in the waiting room, and then the doctor comes out and they all look up expectantly, waiting for an answer that will offer some relief? You know the face they make when they see the doctor coming to talk to them? That's the face she was making. I swear it. Now I am not so naive or self-centered to think that she was that concerned about my personal fertility issues. I realize that her primary concern was the fact that she had to get her HSG done right after me. But it felt good nonetheless. It felt good to know she cared, even if it wasn't really towards me so much.

I assured her that it wasn't that bad and that the discomfort was tolerable. I wished her and her husband luck and headed back to work. As the door of the hospital closed behind me, I felt a pang of regret that I hadn't offered her my e-mail address, just in case she doesn't have anybody else to talk to who's going through this crazy adventure called infertility.

Thanks

I just got my first comments to my blog. And after a long, crappy infertility day, they made me cry. It overwhelmed me to see that, not only did people bother to read my post, but they even took time to write me a supportive comment. Thanks. It means a lot.