Artificial

     Today, Flaco and I had our first appointment with the Fertility Doctor. I don't know what I expected, like the doctor was going to read my chart, ask a few questions, and spit out a diagnosis/cure. The visit wasn't unpleasant until the nurse drew a whole vial of blood (I am terrified of needles - just talking about them gives me sweaty palms). The doctor asked for a few details about our medical histories (more me than Flaco) and then explained the tests they would perform (as soon as tomorrow, if there is an opening). He also indicated artificial insemination as a likely course of treatment.
     At the words "artificial insemination" my mind went straight to the cows, heifers, and brood sows we had inseminated on the farm where I grew up. This does not sound like something I am going to enjoy (I guess no one does). We will be having a baby "artificially" - or to be more precise, we will be conceiving a baby artificially. We are unable to conceive "normally" and thus, we must submit to a battery of tests, poking and prodding, and serious invasion of our privacy. I sense this is the beginning of my humiliation (to be fair, Flaco was mortified when he had to take his little swimmers in for analysis over the summer before I started the Clomid) because, well, I don't particularly like men "lady" doctors (aka OB/Gyn's). I guess it's just a quirk I have. I would much rather have a woman doctor for my feminine needs. I don't know, perhaps I am a weirdo, but I figure a woman doctor just "gets it" better because she has the same plumbing. Does a man doctor know what "the period feeling" actually feels like? Does he remember his first experience shoving a tampon "up there?" But, I digress. . . . Our Fertility Doctor is a man - very soft-spoken, very nice - but, still a man. At our next appointment he will be performing a full exam on me. Sigh. My desire for a child over-rides my sense of propriety. I suppose this is the price we pay to achieve our desired results - a baby in our arms.
     So, other than the intense testing of blood, urine, and bodies, the doctor decided we would try Clomid for one more go 'round. And we will be doing something called a "Clomid Challenge" - I don't know what this is, but it sounds like some Iron Man Triathlon to me. . . . The doctor didn't seem to give much credence to the Clomid. It is apparently not the miracle drug I thought it was. . . .
     The appointment today made me both sad and hopeful. Sad because it solidifies our condition as an infertile couple. For some reason, hearing about all the options out there and what can go awry in the complicated human body, has made me feel like our struggle to become pregnant was always doomed and futile - like trying to bail water out of the Titanic with a thimble. But, I also feel hopeful. There are still many options open for us at this time and we will actually find our what is wrong with me (I mean fertility-wise) and I am hopeful this is something that can be "fixed."
     So, we soldier on. Bring on the poking and prodding. And hopefully, fill our arms with a blessing from God - our baby.