I mean, “Oof” pretty much sums up the year. If I were to put it into more words…I’d say it was the worst year I’ve had so far. It was a rollercoaster of internal grief while the world carried on around us.
It sounds strange, but 2021 was hard because there was still hope. There was an assumption we would get the family we had always pictured; it was just a question of when. Although our language and mindset slowly shifted to “if” we have kids, those around us continued to have the misaligned hope of “when” we have kids.
I mean, I get it. I don’t know if it’s possible to understand someone’s situation if you haven’t been through it. If you haven’t spent days’ worth of hours googling infertility. If you haven’t grappled with the concept of not passing on your genetics. If you haven’t had a doctor look you in your eyes and tell you, you can’t have biological children with the person you love most. If you haven’t had to wrap your head around the fact that having a child means you will need the help of a donor in a doctor’s office or for someone else to undergo heartbreak and choose you to be a parent.
These “ifs” are what our 2021 consisted of. These “ifs” became our “whens.”
The year started out with some productive movement toward answers. Since the stress that began in November didn’t go away with the new year, I put two items on my to-do list. First, set up an appointment with the women’s medical center. Second, talk to Brian’s mom.
As with any first appointment at a doctor’s office, it was scheduled a few months out and wouldn’t be until March. In the back of my mind, I was content with the delay of the appointment in hopes it would turn into a “Hi, I’m pregnant.” instead of a “Hi, I’m infertile.” appointment.
With the appointment on the calendar, next up was talking to Mom Cone. Among my panic, my brain began to play devil’s advocate. I’d have these moments where I’d panic about not being able to have kids, and a minute later panic about if I got pregnant how I’d have no control over my body and have to give birth.
Both Brian and Jane agreed that talking to someone who enjoyed pregnancy could help ease my panic. I remember not knowing how to bring up my concerns with Mom Cone. With six kids in and out of the house, it wasn’t a common occurrence for her to be alone. I don’t remember the exact circumstance, but I found myself alone with her on the .7-mile drive from our house to hers. I had about three minutes to start the conversation and was nervous.
“How long did it take you and Dad to get pregnant?”
We agreed that our hearts were beating fast, and she was excited. Officially she was added to my short list of confidants who knew about our venture. Although this conversation brought excitement at the thought of us having kids, it started to confirm my worries. It was true that it tended to be a quick turnaround for them each time they tried. Once she realized I was asking because we had been trying since June she agreed talking to my doctor would be a good place to start. As for my pregnancy fears, she soothed those with a few simple validations and reassurance that they’d be there to help me through it all.
March 2.
I had made it to my appointment at the women’s medical center and wasn’t pregnant. The appointment was different from what I had anticipated. Instead of a typical first appointment where you run through a list of medical history, she sat down and asked me about myself and what I hoped to accomplish.
I gave her a notecard with the last eight months of cycle information and told her how my cycle has had a history of inconsistencies. How when Brian and I first started dating my period stopped all together for four months until I was put on birth control.
From this small snapshot of information, she was confident I wasn’t ovulating and would find success with Clomid. She set me up with a lab for some blood tests and an appointment on April 9 to discuss the medication. Looking back, there should have been more testing before throwing me on meds. At the moment, however, I found relief in her confidence.
The reality of us trying to have a baby returned, and my nervous excitement resurfaced. I shared the appointment updates with Brian, Jane and Mom Cone and took a deep breath as we experienced the first of our many wait times.
Little Cone Flower 
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