When we started on this little adventure (that's what I've come to call it...) I was 22. Only 22. Young, healthy... 22. By the time we first met with the doctor I was 23. My RE kept bringing up my age-- it was something on our side. I was young and ready to nip this problem in the bud early so to speak.
From the onset, I hated hearing those lines. "You're only 23..." Yes, I was 23, but I was ready to start a family. I was young, but BY CHOICE. I wanted to be a mother young. My hubby wanted to be a father young. So, those lines began to eat away at me. Back in December when our first cycle was cancelled due to CF testing (the clinic "forgot" to test us back in September... and as a result they insisted that we cancel our cycle to have the testing done just in case...) the line I got the day that I thought we were going to start the Clomid was "You're only 23. You have plenty of time. Another month- or year- won't hurt you." So, I agreed... I was pushed in to waiting... But...
WHAT?? I'm only 23... but that means that they can push me back and it's no big deal?? I may be young, but that's by choice... I wanted to have a baby at 22 when I first started this saga. A month may be better at my age than in 20 years, but a month is still another month for my dream to be pushed back. And there I grew to hate that line... and dread it too.
If I wanted to wait a few more months to have a baby I wouldn't have started trying 16 months ago. And there you have my number 1 infertility pet-peeve.
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