The Making of Baby 3.1: Infertility is Awkward

Everything about infertility is awkward.

You spend a lot of time in stirrups with doctors looking at your girly bits. Or, if you’re not in the stirrups, you’re sitting in an office chair listening to doctors discussing your girly bits. If you’re a guy it gets even more awkward. You get to hear tons about girly bits and you get to huddle over a plastic cup in a room with paper thin walls and porn that you’re positive one of the nurses brought in from her personal collection. Awkward.

Then there are the awkward situations outside of the clinic. You know, like that time at Thanksgiving when your 20 year old cousin who’d been married for 60 seconds announced she was pregnant and you spent the rest of the afternoon crying hysterically in your Aunt Ruth’s chintz-covered bathroom? (Totally hypothetical situation, I swear!) You get the picture. Awkward.

So, of course, my visit to the lab for my cycle day 3 blood work this weekend had to have its own uncomfortable situation. I mean, why make any of this easy? Right?

I walked into the lab and sat down two seats away from a guy who kept sneaking glances at me. I ignored it for awhile, wondering who the heck tries to pick someone up at a lab! Then I started wondering if I should tell him I was there for the results of my STD tests. While I was pondering whether or not to mess with the poor guy, I realized that he looked awfully familiar. Turns out I’ve sued him. Three times. (So much for hoping he didn’t realize how he knew me.)

I’m a recovering attorney, but surprisingly I’ve never encountered someone I’ve sued on behalf of a client (or three separate clients) while wearing my Saturday morning uniform of comfy stretch pants, no make-up and tennis shoes. Say it with me, “Awkward!”

On the plus side, I was so preoccupied with trying to avoid his death dagger glares, that I completely forgot about my infertility for 30 whole minutes, even through the collection of half of my body’s blood. (OK, so maybe it was only 7 little vials.)

So the next step is another awkward conversation in the doctor’s office about my girly bits and my blood test results. Hopefully we’ll also talk about collecting a sample from my husband. It’s time for someone else to feel awkward for awhile!