unexplained infertility

Thanks to taking time off from work to recover from my surgery, I've had more than usual time to think about and process the surgery. And the phrase I keep coming back to is this one: "unexplained infertility."

More specifically, what I'm thinking about is this: after the surgery, Dr. S told my dh that we're basically at the end of napro options, given what we've done so far and given that no test has shown anything abnormal. We're going to meet with her on Tuesday, so maybe she'll elaborate more, but I get what she's saying. From reading other people's blogs, I'm aware that napro has more to offer than what we've done, but that "more" seems to be drugs that help conditions I don't have or tests to explore abnormalities detectable by symptoms I don't have. (Of course, I'm all ears if someone has a suggestion based on our medical history.)

Dr. S summed it up like this: either we're perfectly healthy and just quite unlucky (quite!), or there's something wrong with us that can't yet be detected by the current state of reproductive science. Neither of those premises is very comforting.

In other words, unexplained infertility.

I think Timothy O'Malley put it best in his beautiful essay "Waiting for Gabriel: Learning to Pray Through Infertility":

"Month one passed.   Month two passed.  Month three passed.  Six months later, our home became the anti-Nazareth, as we awaited an annunciation that never came.  The hope-filled decision to conceive a child became a bitter task of disheartened waiting.  After a year, we began to see a barrage of infertility specialists, who based upon test results, concluded that we should be able to have a child.  No low sperm counts.  No problem with reproductive systems.  All in working order.  The verdict:  inexplicable infertility.

"Unexplained infertility is a surprisingly miserable diagnosis.   Something about my psyche was prepared for a scientific explanation.  One in which the very fine doctors with advanced degrees from Ivy League institutions acknowledged that unless an act of God intervened, no human life would emerge from intercourse between Kara and me.   Indeed, a fair number of tears would have been shed on both of our parts.  But with the diagnosis of unexplained infertility, conception is scientifically possible.  With every slight change in Kara’s monthly cycle, a glimmer of hope rises in our hearts, only to be dashed with the arrival of menstruation.  Kind-hearted family, friends, and colleagues, who learn about our infertility, share stories about a mother or sister, who finally became pregnant.  They recommend “doctors”, who have a proven track record of curing infertility.  But unfortunate for us, we have no way of knowing if we will one day join the ranks of the middle-aged first-time parent.  And every trip to a doctor is a risk, because once again, we start to hope.  Aware now, of course, that hope alone does not fill one’s home with children."

"A surprisingly miserable diagnosis" pretty much hits in on the head. Surprising, because nothing is wrong with you. Miserable, because of course something is. It is not normal to make love to your husband for three years - on the "right" days, I might add - and never even need to take a pregnancy test because AF always arrives right on time. It is not normal to go even 6 months of "fertility-focused intercourse" and still be un-pregnant. "Not normal" usually means in the health context a disease. But no disease has been found. "All in working order."

I would add to O'Malley's description that unexplained infertility is enough to drive you batty.

Something must be wrong. But it's undetectable, like a parasite or something horribly icky that steals your life without you even being aware of its presence. 

If nothing is wrong with our bodies, then what? Is it diet? Is our timing just less-than-perfect enough to "miss" every month? Do we not exercise enough? (I know the answer to that one!) Are we "doing it" wrong? The huge non-answer of unexplained infertility opens up like a black hole of a million other non-answers, unanswerable questions that are enough to keep me up at night (literally).

At the end of the day, it comes down to control. (Doesn't everything?) I want to have a problem with my body that can be fixed. Not an unfixable problem, mind you. That's a whole 'nother kettle of fish and I can't claim one second to know what that would feel like. Just a nice manageable textbook problem that doctors can fix right up so we're good as gold. Living in what feels like a perpetual state of uncertainty and the unknown makes me anxious, makes me feel somewhat ashamed (I can't get pregnant and I don't even know why? double whammy), and most of all makes me feel completely out of control. I can't find or even start to guess what the perfect pill, potion, food, diet, fad, activity, would even be. I feel stuck in the dark.

That's enough for now. Sorry for the wet blanket. I'm going to go rejoin my husband and watch the World Cup and try for the millionth trillionth time to give it to God.

St. Anne, pray for us. St. Jude, pray for us.

+EcceFiat+