The Age of Infertility

This girl doesn't know yet. She's eighteen, and she doesn't realize that the hell she's living in will only get worse. She doesn't realize that a few years later, when she's finally in a better place and happy, then her world will come tumbling down. She doesn't even see the danger lurking on the horizon.

Ignorance truly is bliss.

If I had started trying to have a baby at eighteen, I could understand people staring at me like I'm crazy. But I started at twenty-two, after being married for a year, and living with my husband for almost four years. Yet, even with my twenty-fourth birthday looming a month away, being married for three years this July, together for six, people still give me that glassy eyed look. They still stare at me like I'm nuts. I don't get it.

I also sometimes feel like people brush me off about infertility. I found out at twenty-two. I mean, an infertile twenty-two year old? I fall into the 5%. I think those statistics are wrong, I think that there are woman at twenty-two, or younger, who don't even know they're infertile. I didn't realize at sixteen that I had PCOS, I didn't think about it. I didn't acknowledge that I was growing a mustache, I got rid of it. I didn't care that I was only getting a period every few months, starting from the very first one... no, I was the luckiest teenager ever. I didn't get periods hardly ever.

What I didn't know then could fill a book.

So, that's why I feel the statistics are skewed. You can have a reproductive disorder lurking, and not even know about it until much later. And since many woman wait until they're older, we don't find out about it until we're older.

If I had started trying at eighteen (or even just had a competent doctor), I could have caught PCOS early. Began keeping it in check early. If I had known about it while I was skinny, I would have put greater effort into staying skinny. I would have made greater efforts in keeping up my daily walks. I would have known the danger that was lurking... but no one warned me. I didn't see it coming.

I don't regret waiting, I was in no position to be a mother back then (I do regret all that wasted money on BCP's and condoms though.) But I regret not finding out earlier, when I had a better chance to make things work. It's easier to maintain a weight, than to loose 80 pounds. It's easier to keep up an exercise routine than to jump into it again.

And while, yes, I'm young. It really doesn't make it hurt any less. I feel like an oddity sometimes, a young infertile. People treat it like an oxymoron, you're supposed to be most fertile in your twenties... yeah, how about not always? How about, that statement scares me even. If I'm my most fertile now, when I'm not ovulating... how much worse can it get when I reach my thirties and forties? Will an ovary die, my uterus close up, will my tubes do a little dance and end up knotted together?

The fact of the matter is that infertility hurts at any age, and it doesn't increase your odds of having a baby either. It just gives you more time to figure out what you're going to do about it, more times to try. It doesn't mean you'll have success, even with more chances of trying you don't always have an increased chance of getting pregnant. Yet people tell me to relax, I have plenty of time. That's strange, because two years of my life have just about passed me by, and I still haven't increased my odds of having a baby. I still don't ovulate, I'm still just as barren as ever. So, yeah. I have more time. It hasn't helped me though.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I found out in my twenties. It gives me more time to think about my options and figure everything out. I know what I'm up against. But damn, the things I didn't know then, that I know now.

Silly me.