Snow White and the Seven Infertile Dwarfs
As you know, Snow White had seven dwarfs she hung out with. I guess she figured she couldn’t get a man at the time, so seven dwarfs’ equaled one prince. I’m not sure. I never really got what the hell she was doing with the dwarfs to begin with so that’s just my hypothesis. I mean, I know the Queen was trying to kill her and all but cleaning up after seven guys doesn’t seem like a good hideout plan. Trust me - I briefly crashed in a fraternity house back in the day and it was NOT pretty.
But I digress…
According to Disney, the seven dwarfs in question were named Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, Bashful, Doc, Dopey, and Sneezy.
In my little trying-to-conceive-fairytale though, I think of them as more emotions than dwarfs. So, according to me, they are named Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, Hopeful, Sarcastic, Hormonal and on occasion, Slutty. Whistle while you work indeed Ms. Slutty Dwarf!
Depending on my cycle, my mood, my day or other possible variables, a different dwarf/emotion takes center stage. Sometimes, it’s Grumpy. Other times, it’s Hopeful. Today, it appears to be a visiting dwarf cousin who has a drinking problem. He’s called ‘Embittered’.
Last night, I received a letter from my insurance company that read, “Dear Mommy-to-be: Congratulations!” It went on to describe their pregnancy benefits and included a brochure on where I could deliver my baby. Ummm, what? I just had a hysteroscopy and a D&C. Trust me Blue Cross Blue Shield… my uterus is not only empty, it’s been cleaned, scraped and vacuumed, so what the f*ck with this letter?
Then, last night I dreamed that I was lying down in an examination room when a doctor came in, threw up his hands as if he scored a touchdown and exclaimed, “You’re pregnant!” He looked at me expecting me to be overjoyed.
“No, I’m not.” I said. “I have my period.”
“No really. You’re pregnant. I have two other doctors here who agree with me.” Two other doctors suddenly rush in and stand in their white coats looking at me like a medical version of The Marx Brothers.
“Look,” I was getting annoyed. “I don’t care if three out of three doctors say I’m pregnant. I’m not. I have my period. I had a uterine polyp taken out just last month around the time of ovulation so I’m telling you – it’s impossible.”
Then, out of nowhere, my therapist made a dramatic entrance and began to enthusiastically sing, “California Gurls” by Katy Perry. That’s when I realized my alarm had gone off and this was very much a dream.
Although I was bummed that I wasn’t pregnant, I was relieved that my therapist hadn’t taken up singing. She can tell you what’s in your subconscious but she could carry a tune to save her life. I’m just sayin’.
After I woke up and shook off my odd dream, I headed to my doctor’s office for my post operative appointment. As I waited in the waiting room with several other fertility challenged folks, a couple came in with two toddlers. You could immediately feel the tension in the room. All eyes were on the kids and the air quickly filled with jealously. You can’t exactly blame the couple for bringing their kids but it did feel like a thin woman had just shown up to Weight Watchers meeting and proceeded to eat one donut after another in front of us. Ouch.
After an hour wait with the infertiles and the two unintentionally antagonizing children (doesn’t that sound like a band? "Ladies and gentlemen, The Infertiles and the Two Unintentionally Antagonizing Children!"), I was relieved to finally get called in to see the doctor. I was told that my tests were normal, the polyp was non-cancerous and that I have the go ahead to try and get pregnant on my own for the next few months.
This is all good news but I can’t help but wonder if it’s going to work this time? I’ve been trying for over a year and a half. I’m well into my thirties, my husband’s sperm count is on the low side, we’ve done several inseminations and an IVF and nothing has worked. Was it really the elusive uterine polyp holding up the process or is it some other currently undiagnosed problem? I wish I knew.
Mirror, mirror on the wall… who’s the most fertile of them all?
At this point, like Snow White, I wouldn’t mind having a nice long sleep in a clearing in a forest somewhere. Dwarfs and woodland creatures could look after me… or at the very least, give me a spa treatment. I could woke up to my husband’s kiss, be knocked up and the evil Queen (a.k.a. “Aunt Flo”) would leave me the hell alone while Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, Hopeful, Sarcastic, Hormonal and Slutty all rejoiced.
Hey -- who doesn’t love a happy ending?
Comments
Post a Comment