Baby Making Rooms

13 Mar

I haven’t blogged in a while about my fertility journey.  I was recently recalling some of the things I encountered while going through it, and while a lot of it was painful (and a pain in the ass), some of it was humorous.

One of the funny things about infertility is just how, for lack of a better term, OUT THERE all of your business becomes! Literally and figuratively! Things that normally would not be spoken about under any circumstances suddenly become coffee talk.

“Oh, so did you have sex on the 14th day of your cycle this month? Any luck?”
“So, why can’t you get pregnant? Is something wrong with your plumbing or your husband’s?”
“Wow, how much does that COST?”

Yeah. Seriously.

The other side of the fertility coin is the one experienced by the man. Once you get past the less invasive treatments (namely drugs), you must enter the world of petri dishes, washing of sperm and questions like “will they fall out if I sit up too fast?”

At our clinic, there was a separate door (a back door wouldn’t you know) to the room where the man makes his ‘deposit.’ The Baby Making Room. Bob described it as the most unsexy room you can ever imagine, with porn of every type (Black, White, Asian, chubby…? They got em all).  And, of course, there was a VHS machine.  What other ways could they make this room feel skeevy?  Linoleum of course.  Well, I guess carpet is out of the question.

So, rather than parade these poor guys past the waiting room (I mean, really, what OTHER possible reason would they be going into a fertility clinic by themselves?)  they get to arrive and leave mostly anonymously.

I was back in an exam room one time with Bob when we heard “Ding Dong.”  Sorry, did you read that right?  That was the sound of a doorbell, not a penis joke.   Bob looked up and said “Ooh, someone’s going into the ‘room,'” I started cracking up. “You mean, the baby making room?”   Bob confirmed that this was indeed the room in question.

The doorbell sound was nothing that could be heard from inside the waiting room, or even in one of the phlebotomy cubes.  I had never heard it before in all of my time going to the clinic.  And now I felt sorry for the poor guy on the other side of the door  for some reason.  I couldn’t see him obviously, but what an unsubtle way to announce one’s presence, eh?

The other funny thing I remember is the Social Security patrons.  My clinic was right next door to a Social Security office in Towson.  So, once in a while an older person would walk in (having missed the large sign on the door), and whoever was at the front desk didn’t even need to pause to let them get their question out.  Again… KIND of obvious they don’t belong here, right?  “Social Security office is around the corner to the right, ma’am.”

I need to write about my next leg in the journey,   The IVF.  But if you were in my house this evening you would have witnessed a toddler possessed by the devil and an extremely exhausted Carrie.  So that will have to wait until another day!

2 Responses to “Baby Making Rooms”

  1. brooke at 8:44 pm #

    Love reading about ur journey

  2. Lisa at 8:46 pm #

    I do not even want to think about the baby making room.

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