The building on the corner of the street where we turn up to get to the fertility clinic is called Siemens. I have to give God a nod for that one. Comedic irony at its finest.
There's no "face of infertility". I see women of all ages, races and sizes waiting for blood draws and ultrasounds, just like me.
Sitting in a small meeting room with your husband while a doctor tells you when to have sex isn't as embarrassing as I thought it might be. I did, however, still want to giggle.
Ultrasound technicians probably don't really want to chat while they're fiddling with the wand up your hoo-ha. I learned this while attempting to make small talk at my appointment on Sunday. It's good to know that I don't have to feel rude laying there saying nothing.
I haven't done it, but I'm guessing that critiquing their performance probably isn't a good idea either.
Saying "thank you" to someone who has just finished taking pictures of your innards will always feel weird, but somehow necessary.
The more times you have someone exploring your lady bits, the less humiliating it becomes - and the more curious you get about what's actually going on in there.
They never EVER tell you any of this stuff in health class - and I'm sure they never will.
The paper robes they give you to change into aren't pretty or particularly flattering, but they're a hell of a lot nicer than the giant paper towel you get at the family doctor - when you're completely naked.
Fear of the unknown is a powerful thing indeed. I resisted seeking intervention for longer than I should have, particularly at my age, because I didn't want to do any of the stuff we're doing right now.
But you know what? It's not so bad. I know it's VERY early days, but so far it's still just good to have someone else worrying about all of this for a while. That's carrying me along quite nicely for the time being.
Occasionally I still wonder how on earth I ended up here and I frequently wonder what's next, but I'm still trying really, really hard to take it one step at a time.
This task would be easier if I hadn't looked up treatments for adhesions and scar tissue on the internet this afternoon. I don't know that I have them, but I'm now good and terrified about getting rid of them if I do.
My Mother never told me that one day I'd be on pins and needles wondering what the size of my follicles is going to be tomorrow.
I probably won't tell my daughter that either - if I ever get one.