My Infertility Story

In some ways, my infertility story was horribly mundane. My husband and I married in our 20s, but waited until our 30s to start trying for kids. We thought we had all the time in the world, and wanted to wait until we were "ready". Then, like many a couple before us, we discovered that when we were finally "ready", our hypothetical baby... wasn't.

After a year of trying to get pregnant with no success, I sought help from my OB/GYN, an excellent doctor who I adored. After ruling out all the obvious causes (blocked tubes, my husband's sperm, etc.), she started me on Clomid, a fertility drug designed to stimulate ovulation. But five months later, despite steadily increasing doses of the drug and ultrasounds showing that my eggs were developing, I still wasn't pregnant.

My doctor told me she wanted to try something different for my sixth and final round of Clomid. She wanted me to take Clomid, but instead of timing our intercourse after I had the ultrasound, she wanted us to do an IUI (inter-uterine insemination). An IUI is basically the old-fashioned turkey-baster method, but under a doctor's supervision. My doctor had high hopes for success with this method. "Oh, and one other thing," she added, almost as an aside. "I'm concerned that your eggs have been almost too mature when we check them with the ultrasound. Make your ultrasound appointment for a few days earlier in your cycle this time. If the egg's already ready, we'll do the IUI right away. But if it's still too small, we'll do another ultrasound at the normal time and check it again."

I followed her instructions to the letter, showing up for my ultrasound on day 9 of my cycle, rather than day 12. I could tell by the way the ultrasound tech frowned at the screen that the egg was still to small. "Is it really day 12 of your cycle?" she asked. I explained that no, it was day 9, and told her what my doctor had said. She perked up visibly. "That makes sense, then. She'll probably want you to do this again in a few days. Go talk to her, and I'll probably see you again soon!"

But when the door to my exam room opened a few minutes later, it wasn't my doctor, but another one from her practice (there were five altogether) who walked in. She explained that my doctor had been called away on a delivery, and wanted to know if it was alright if she went over the results of my ultrasound with me. I agreed. 'The egg's too small," she said. I nodded, expecting her to follow up with something about scheduling the next ultrasound. But she said nothing else.

"So?" I prompted, tentatively.

"Look," she said bluntly, shoving my file aside. "The egg's too small, and I can see from your file that several times in the 5 months you've been taking Clomid the egg's been too small." That wasn't true- if anything my eggs had been deemed too big. But before I could sputter that out she continued. "Frankly, we've done everything we can for you here. You're not responding to the treatment. It's time we referred you elsewhere to get more sophisticated help." Shocked I finally managed to mumble out my story about my doctor having me come in early for the ultrasound, and the IUI we had planned. The new doctor dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "It doesn't matter. The egg's too small, a few more days won't make any difference. Clomid's not working for you, and there's virtually no chance you'll get pregnant this month."

I cried the whole drive home. My husband was on a plane on the way back from a business trip, so I couldn't call him. Instead, I called a friend. She was single with no desire for kids herself, but she knew what I'd been going through. I expected her to be comforting and sympathetic. Instead, she was angry. "Oh, no, no, no," she screamed into the phone. "DO NOT let her do that to you. Call the doctor's office back right now and tell them you want YOUR doctor to look over the results, and then meet with you about what to do. Don't let some doctor who met you for five minutes decide your future." Her anger shocked me out of my grief. Because really, she was right. This was too important to be dismissed that easily.

I got in touch with my own doctor the next day, and she agreed to another ultrasound. Her verdict after seeing the second ultrasound? "The egg's right where we need it to be." We did the IUI the next day, and two weeks after that, I cried again when I saw two lines appear on my home pregnancy test.

My doctor's office had a rule that during your pregnancy, you had to see each of the five doctors at least once for an appointment. The idea being that any of them might have to deliver your baby, depending on timing and circumstance. I steadfastly refused during my entire pregnancy to meet with the one I'd dubbed "the Evil Doctor". Childish? Maybe. But it sure made me feel better.

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