Stories everywhere

Today I was getting my flu shot at work, and the nurse asked me the standard questions: do you have a latex allergy, have you ever had a reaction to the shot before, are you pregnant? I paused at the last one and said, "Well, I'm trying... does that count?"

She got a very sad look on her face and said, "I tried for two years. Good luck to you."

Then I felt like I would cry so I didn't say anything else at all. But when she was done giving me the shot, she touched my hand and told me Good Luck. I leaned forward and asked her if she did have kids. She said, "One daughter, two grandchildren. I love my daughter so much and she told me I should have had more kids." And then she gave me another meaningful look, like she wished she could have had more too, but it never happened.

When stuff like this happens it feels both helpful and sad to me. Helpful in that I sometimes feel alone in this struggle, when so many friends are popping out babies with seemingly no problems at all. But it also makes me sad because I fear waiting two years too, and also it makes me really realize that I actually have a disease. Infertility is a disease, whether or not our health insurance wants to recognize that (and they don't- because they don't want to pay to treat it), and I have it. I've never had anything physically wrong with me before and it's a sobering thought that stays with me whenever I meet someone else who has been in my same situation.

Anyway, this woman was in her 60s or 70s, and medicine has come a long way since then. It won't take me two years, right?

Month three of Clomid, please be kind to me. I ovulate next week and then the long wait begins anew.