Take a Test

I'm getting accustomed to waiting and waiting each month for a test or two at a lab. Man or no man, the tests are showing fertility issues. I wasn't ovulating and, although my blood sugar levels make people envious, a blood-glucose test showed insulin resistance. I feel grateful to know now. I can take some steps to deal with it, and perhaps it will never become diabetes. 

The doctor has never offered a diagnosis, but each month she adds a medication. I put it into Google's search engine, and I'm starting to come up with my own diagnosis. It looks like a much healthier diet and weight loss is in order. 

Last week, I did ovulate, thanks to my pharmacy. The drive to see my doctor for insemination was so much different than the first drive to meet the doctor. The first drive was blowing snow and it was kind of scary. This time I was excited; it was a sunny day; the cows were out frolicking in the pasture. It felt better. 

Now it is back to waiting for more tests. Test progesterone levels in a week. Pregnancy test in two weeks. I'm starting to feel biologically relevant. 

Plans Change

I live in a mid-western town where the metro-area is just shy of half a million people. That’s big enough to foster business, diversity, and education. We’ve got an art district and independent business districts. The larger culture has a strong conservative flavor, and I’m sheltering myself from that as long as possible. I have only spoken to a few supportive friends about my plans, and I didn’t anticipate a cultural road block so soon.

The irony of going to a fertility specialist without actually having any infertility is not lost on me. However, I was surprised to learn that the local fertility specialist will only treat married couples. The next closest option is 200 miles away. They want to do an initial consultation and discuss my options at that time. I already feel like I’m on approval and hope they will work with me. I’ve been diligently saving vacation time for after the baby is born, and each trip I make requires a full day of vacation. 

Popular wisdom says that parenthood delivers many unexpected changes of plans, and I suppose it is only fitting that they would begin now. In the meantime, I intend to drink a latte today and take a nap – things that are either not recommended during pregnancy or are scarce once a child arrives.

The Beginning

Having a child on my own wasn't the way I planned to do things. A child should have a father and mother, I thought. Because. Because that's the way it is. Because that is the way it should be. Life has a way of colliding with my assumptions and beliefs and turning them on their ears. I learn this again and again with increasing humility. Each time it is new and each time I have the same niggling sensation that I've learned it before. 

It's been nearly a year since I divorced, and marriage doesn't hold the slightest appeal. However, I've wanted to raise a child for the last ten years, and I have never made it a priority. While I'm beginning to be interested in dating, serious dating just sounds gross. I don't see wanting a long-term relationship for at least a several years. But, with my thirty-fifth birthday just weeks away, I realize that I want a child, and the time for waiting has passed. I've spent a year thinking about this decision and questioning the wisdom. It seems right for me. 

I've made an appointment with fertility specialist to discuss how I will become pregnant. Not having sperm is a huge fertility issue, and I'm about to dive into the realm of sperm banks and turkey basters. It is unknown and scary and hopeful--all at once. There are too many stories about dashed hopes, and I try to restrain my dreams of a child until the unknown factors are more certain. But hope is a stubborn thing.