Since I was 14, my girl parts haven't worked right. The most doctors could ever tell me was that I either just don't ovulate, or I don't ovulate on any sort of schedule of any kind. Knowing since you're 14 that it might take some effort to get pregnant means I've accepted the fact that I'm infertile to some degree. Fortunately, the gynocologist I was seeing was great, and even though I was not of an advanced maternal age yet, when Jim and I were ready to concieve, she wasn't going to make me wait the requisite year of trying - she was going to start right in with all sorts of tests and monitoring and whatnot to see what we could figure out and decide on a plan to get me knocked up. I really appreciated that, I did. Because of this, I've read up on infertility and treatments and dealt with my own issues as best I could. It kind of built up a thick skin, which I don't always like in myself, such as the way I have to fight not to roll my eyes when a friend talks about the baby she lost. You'd think it was a full term still birth or something when it was actually a miscarriage at 9 weeks and she had to have a D&C - which she likened to an abortion - because her body wouldn't expell the cellular mass that used to be a fetus. It was a first pregnancy, and I guess she hasn't heard the stat that one third of all first pregnancies end in miscarriage. I'm harsh, I know.
So when I go off the pill because it's making me more depressed, unable to lose weight, hypoglycemic and giving me nasty ass PMS, I start feeling good. And then I'm pregnant. My gyno laughed at me on the phone at how she'll have to cross off all those tests she had listed in my chart to do. And now that Natalie is here, and thriving and the pregnancy was free of complications (although not free of symptoms...), I find myself back where I started. My girl parts aren't working, there's now a mass in my uterus - just of clotted blood, you know, no big deal - and I find myself going to the bathroom ALL THE TIME and now I'm worried that maybe the mass isn't just a clot, but something more and it's enough to press on my bladder, so when do I call the doctor? Neurotic, that's me.
I guess I can't be considered "infertile" anymore because of the getting pregnant without trying thing, but what do you call what I am now? There's no clinical name that I know of to describe being fucked up and wishing with every fiber in my body to be normal - to have a period that comes ever 28-35 days and only lasts for a few days at a time. Not 19 days in a row, not every 6 weeks and then in 5 weeks and then in 8 weeks, and not with dibilitating PMS, and not with all the emotional baggage that goes along with it that I've been pushing to the back of my mind for the past 15 years.