Let’s back up 10 years. I was a freshman in college, my husband and I had just started dating, and I got my first glimpse at infertility. Like many young girls fresh out of high school I never paid much attention to my cycles. Then when it didn’t come for 5 months I thought I’d stop by the school’s health clinic.
After a mound of paperwork I sat on the always lovely, cold, paper covered table. The nurse asked if I was pregnant to which I replied that wasn’t possible. She asked if I was sure and I said of course. I could tell she didn’t believe me so I finally gave in and let her to do a test. I rolled up my sleeve, she took a blood sample, and I endured my very first pregnancy test. A few minutes later the nurse came back in and said, “Well, you’re not pregnant.” I looked at her and chuckled, said I know, and asked what’s next. She suggested I make a “well woman’s” appointment and sent me on my way.
About a week later I was headed home to see my family doctor. I had never been to one of these appointments before, and was not thrilled about starting. After a series of questions, I heard what would come to be the most common phrase heard out of a doctor’s mouth….”Lay back, put your feet into the stirrups, and scoot all the way towards me.” The doctor then shined a bright light on my girl parts, and I experienced the most uncomfortable and embarrassing moment of my short, naive life.
The final conclusion of my visit was to go on the pill. I told her I didn’t need it, but she insisted that I did to stay “regular”. She said being “irregular” is very common in woman, and I didn’t have a thing to worry about. All I have to do is take one simple pill at the same time each day and I’d be just fine. I diligently set my phone alarm for 7 PM sharp so I wouldn’t forget to take my pill and went merrily on my way.