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You’re Not Alone, Girlfriend

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You’re Not Alone, Girlfriend

a blog by Pamela Tsigdinos

Conventional wisdom leads many of us to view infertility problems predominantly through the lens of the physical challenge. We line up and clear our schedule for blood tests, HSGs (Hysterosalpingogram), laparoscopies, you name it – all the while beating ourselves up in the process and engaging in a very personal blame game. But there's a very real aspect of infertility that’s often overlooked: the emotional toll that it takes on us and our relationships – in particular those with our more fertile friends.

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Meet the Meyers, in love, infertile

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Meet the Meyers, in love, infertile

a blog by Joy and Jim

We're Jim and Joy Meyers. For four years now, we've been trying to grow our family. Our fertility background is not unlike many of yours. After several “natural” attempts, we sought out the advice and care of fertility specialists in Portland, Oregon and New York City. With each failed attempt, the pressure to have a baby -- or to be happy without one -- has grown.

We each have developed our own ways of coping. Sometimes our coping mechanisms coincide, other times one person feels isolated and helpless.

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I am.

I am.
Not really.
Infertile.

That is the confession. There. I said it.

I am fertile. Probably extremely so. I menstruate every 32 days. My Fertility Friend charts would be the envy of most women, complete with fiery temperature surge that occurs mid-cycle, preceded, of course, by 4 days of textbook spinbarkeit. I experience mittleshmertz for 3 days preceding ovulation—my very own personal internal OPK. I get a positive surge of luteinizing hormone on cycle day 15 of every.single.month. It’s disgusting, really.

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Coming out

When I was first contacted about writing a blog on FertilityAuthority, my immediate thought was “No way!” (Sorry, Laurie.) I couldn't imagine going on a public site to share the most intimate and private details of my life. Sure, I have a personal blog that could be found with a little searching, but this was so much more “out there.” And “out there” is just not somewhere that we have chosen to go on our baby-making journey.

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Ch-ch-ch-changes

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Ch-ch-ch-changes

November marked two years since the husband and I gleefully pinged (pung?) the last condom across the room and started to go at it bare-back. And as we hungrily ripped off each other’s clothes we had one thing on our minds: procreation.

For the past two years my womb has been officially open for business.

And I changed, although not how I’d hoped – the growing stomach, blooming complexion and, you know, generally being pregnant.

Instead these things started to happen:

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