I have a son!

Truth is I’ve had a son for 18 years. He is handsome and it isn’t just mom saying this. I was hounded for over a year by a modeling agency. It took threatening them with a harassment suit before they finally left us alone. My son is sweet, brilliant in an idiot savant kind of way and he can really make me laugh...when I am not crying inside.

Always wanted to be a mother and got my wish in a year where Spring decided to come early. I was already 15 years into a relationship but had been actively trying to conceive for two. I was like a nun. No wine, no coffee, no blue cheese and threw those legs up in the air every time my husband and I made love. Twelve months of this and a year older my doctor diagnosed me as “INFERTILE!” He said I needed help. Nice guy but I thought that’s what he was supposed to be doing? He should have sent me off a whole lot sooner and saved me some bucks. I mean how many times can a gal douche with baking powder, stick her finger in her hoo ha and cough before the doctor realizes witch craft ain’t gonna cut it? Don’t get me wrong. He did manage to help some of my friends conceive and yes they also did the finger up the wazoo thing but I felt i was strung along for way too long given I was 35. He referred me to the specialists of Weill Cornell in NYC because they were the best. I hated that place. I guess I am not alone because i just tried googling them and they weren’t even on the first page.

On my initial visit I got off the elevator eager to get this baby thing started! I was actually happy to be there because my doctor carried on about ”Cornell’s great results!” What I walked into felt more like cattle being led to slaughter. The room was enormous! It felt like there was seating for 100 but yet there was standing room only. I had an early appointment which was somewhere in the neighborhood of 7 am. I had to walk what felt like miles of avenues just to get to 68th street and First. That was before I realized there was a whole other avenue filled with rude, honking taxis as well as one more cross street before I would get to the pearly gates. Although this was a large hospital I assumed the infertility clinic would be small and intimate. I imagined a white gowned angelic receptionist, sweetly asking for my name and escorting me to the office of a sympathetic physician. What I got was many loud voices all at once and I remember being confused and suddenly concerned because if I couldn’t conceive in the coziness of my own home with the man I love, how was I supposed to get pregnant in this mad house.

Long story short I wasted time, lots of money and 4 precious eggs on IUIs (Inter uterine inseminations) that led to nothing but tears, tears and more tears. After the last IUI I was instructed by the nurse or PA who conducted the procedure to remain with my legs in the stirrups for 15 minutes. After an hour I realized that no one was coming back and I just cried. I knew it didn’t take. I walked out quickly - no one tried to stop me or ask me why I was crying and I never saw that God forsaken place ever again. Some of my other experiences there were far worse than this, however this should give you a fair idea of the depths of my despair.

Now year two I went back home and told my husband that we would just raise dogs. The emotional toll on me and my marriage was too much. We took his parents on a cruise where they had the cabin adjacent to ours. I got back to social drinking, coffee and blue cheese. I had the time of my life ! The previous two years were just so dire that I enjoyed my husband and in-laws to the max. I got home, threw up and a month later learned I was pregnant. Ok Ok it wasn’t exactly like that - well actually it was. Maybe I needed to relax or could Cornell have somehow fixed whatever was ailing me? I didn’t care I was pregnant and it was the happiest time of my life. Shortly after my son’s first birthday I was absolutely certain there was something very wrong with my son.