Next week I will be celebrating my ninth wedding anniversary. Wow.  Some days it feels like just yesterday and other days it feels like forever.  Marriage was something I always knew I wanted.  My grandparents were married over 50 years, my parents just celebrated their 44th anniversary.  I admired their relationships and would not settle until I found one of my own.

From the time I graduated college I began a dual unofficial degree program:  how to build a successful career in the communications and marketing industry and how to find a nice Jewish boy or “NJB” as my family likes to call it.

My career was off to the races from day one.  I took the media world by storm, growing and moving up at a satisfying speed.  I was a working woman in New York City, commuter sneakers and all and it felt great.

Dating, well that was another story.  Lots of first dates, lots of frogs.  Less quality and substance than I had hoped for.  After a couple of failed relationships I hit the NJB jackpot.  I met my now husband right before I turned 29.  I know this may sound cheesy, but it was your typical romcom love at first sight story.  Seriously.  I mean it.

In a few short months I joined his family on a vacation to the Dominican Republic, we planned a trip to Disney for the following New Year’s (BIG STEP!) and made the daring move all Jewish couple have made before us…celebrating Passover together.  One night with my family, one night with his.  Half way through Passover on our 5 month anniversary we got engaged.  Holy Fast Batman! One of my now not friends, friends said to me.  I guess it is true…when you know you know.

The wedding plans began right away and my mother was in her element.  It was like a fairytale.  A custom-made pink wedding gown, (blush not hot pink! I guess you can say Jessica Biel followed my lead!) my dream venue, over 10,000 roses and a room full of our loved ones.  It was purely magical.  As we exchanged our vows and planned for the future we both knew what we were thinking about.  We thought we were invisible.  Beginning our 30’s, fun, fearless and oh so naive.

While we planned to wait a year before we started to think about a family, we lost our vote when the market crashed and we entered the great recession of 2008.  2009 begin with my husband losing his job and he remained out of work as the poster child for the recession for years to come.  When nosey friends or yenta relatives would inquire, I would always comment that it wasn’t the right time.  People were even foolish enough to tell me “He won’t be out of work forever.   Just go for it.”  But just like every other area of my life, my planner mentality kicked in and I laughed at their ignorance.

Fast forward to 2014.  We finally felt ready. Too bad my body disagreed.  After a year of trying on our own, I got up the nerve to call my doctor.  She ordered a series of blood tests, LSH, FSH, AMH, ABC, 123.  You name it.  I passed all with flying colors.  My husband did too.  Why wasn’t this working?

Next on the list of tests was the infamous hysterosalpingogram or HSG.  When my doctor told me I said “you want to stick what where? Dye? Test my tubes? Catheter?”  I reluctantly agreed.  Another check off on the checklist.

Did anyone ever tell you how uncomfortable this procedure is? After 2 attempts (yes, 2!) I consider myself an expert.  The first attempt was done by a radiologist I had never met.  No dinner, no glass of a wine, just a strange man trying to get all up in my business.  After 45 minutes of pain I was locked up tighter than a straitjacket and was told it was just not going to happen.  Mortified I left the room and cried to my mother that I was broken.  She, as she always does, told me not to accept that and to call my doctor and order she does the test.

Once again, she was right and with the help of a Xanax my doctor was in and out (here is the finding humor part again) giving me, my uterus and fallopian tubes an A+.  Couldn’t I just fail a test? Couldn’t they find something wrong to fix? Nope…not so fast.

After another 6 months of trying the good old fashion way, I waved the white flag.  I surrendered and asked for help.

Like any good support group here goes.  Hi.  My name is Pamela and I am struggling with infertility.