Monday, April 8, 2013

On Infertility and the Truth about Women

Week after week we sat on the edge of the tiny sofa in the doctor's office. Cory held my hand. We kept it light, willing success to float down from the drop-ceiling tiles and settle on us through the sheer force of our collective certainty. It was no big deal. He would fix me.

Around week four or five, Doctor Jan peered at me from behind his desk, his eyebrows stitched together in concern. His tired eyes narrowed and the words tumbled out, "Why aren't you pregnant yet?"

His question hung in the air for a moment, then fell around me like an omen. {Click here to continue reading my story.}