I am the no prego pro. Infertility warrior. Bunless oven. Can’t-make-a -baby veteran.
Five years, tens of thousands of dollars, 1611 pre-natal vitamins, 55 ovulation detection tests, 78 fertility drug injections, 16 pregnancy tests, 30 blood draws and ultrasounds and nine embryos, and I am still not pregnant. And that doesn’t even count the numbers from our gestational carrier who tried to carry our embryos last month.
I am a woman with a set of birthing hips proportionately larger than the rest of my body, and not one, but TWO uteruses (uteri? Seriously, I’m not kidding. I have a bicornuate uterus, which is basically one uterus split into two), I always thought that God had blessed me with more than enough of the proper equipment to get pregnant at the drop of a hat – or simply forgetting a condom or birth control pills, but so far, no such luck.
The fertility gods have had other plans.
Through all of the crazy ups and downs of the journey to have offspring, the one thing that my husband, Jack Bauer, and I have tried to do is keep our sense of humor and try to find the lighter side of infertility. Laughing is better than crying.