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It was early winter 2012 when I walked into this sterile looking clinic and boy was I feeling like a reject. I had a dysfunctional reproductive cycle. How embarrassing. None of my family members had this problem – they wished a baby and got a baby. Or at least that’s the way it went for them in my head. At least for this first appointment my husband was able to come with me for some moral support.
The moment we got in I was handed some papers, normal operating procedure for a new patient of course. I kept flipping the pages over and over again. Following my “new patient” forms was a TEN PAGE questionnaire delving into the deep recesses of my medical and sexual history that would assist my doctor to finding the reason for my inability to get knocked up. It was called the “American Society for Reproductive Medicine – Infertility History Form”. Appropriately long name for a long form.
For those of you who have been to a similar office of shame you may know this form and all it’s glory.
They start you off easy – “What’s your name? What’s your date of birth? When was your last period?”. I could handle that.
Page two began with a genius question: “What are your expectations for this visit?” I was tempted to answer this question with one word: Seriously?!!! What the hell do you think my expectations are? To come here for shits and giggles? For God’s sakes it doesn’t take a genius to know my expectations are for you people to get me a baby in my belly stat stat.
Soon came the next section that had me squirming around in my seat. Several questions about our sex life came up and stared up at me waiting to be answered.
How many times a week do you have sex? Do you use lubricant? Does it hurt you to have sex?
Wasn’t this kind of personal? I’m a pseudo-prude and questions on my sexual escapades made the sweat glands in my armpits flare up.
After several more questions regarding my health and the health of every family member who shares genes with me, came my consolation prize. Two pages of the “male medical history”. These questions were fun and it was my hubby’s turn to squirm.
Do you have retrograde ejaculation of sperm into the bladder? I don’t know how the hell that would happen but apparently it’s a thing. And it’s a thing that sounds incredibly gross.
Did you have mumps after puberty? Mumps? Who the hell gets mumps these days? That’s not in fashion anymore.
Are you exposed to prolonged heat in the workplace? Do you use hot tubs regularly? Who knew the hot tub myth was true!!! No more hot tubs for the hubby. And I decided we were going to turn on the air conditioner all year long.
After 30 minutes of filling out forms we still weren’t done. So the first thing my doctor could see from our form filling out all those forms – was that we were not good at filling out forms quickly. Good thing that’s not an absolute requirement for being pregnant or raising a kid.
That’s it for now! To the next update….
Love Author M
Duh IVF failure causes depression. But interesting that increased stress doesn’t make you less likely to get preggo.