And we're off...

I can't believe it's come to this. I am trying so hard to be cool, to be casual, laying here on this table with my feet up and some practical stranger probing regions never meant to be probed to the tune of $600, but it's not that easy. I make little cracks while the nurse demonstrates how to stick myself with a needle (so much for the effectiveness of the DARE program). I roll my eyes at my husband as we are warned of the risks and chances of effectiveness for the thousandth time. The whole time during this final IVF consult I can't stop thinking "I CAN NOT BELIEVE THIS!!! I AM NOT THE PERSON WHO THIS KIND OF STUFF HAPPENS TO! MY LIFE IS NOT BLOG FODDER." But here I am. Blogging about my infertility because, to be honest, even though I know better, it's hard not to feel like you are the only freak on earth with "Unexplained Infertility" who has ever had to endure this ordeal. I have come to view others' blogs as the voice of the couple that you try to ignore in the waiting room. The people you have so much in common with but for some strange reason avoid eye-contact with. Because you think less of them? Because you are afraid they think less of you? Because you don't want to strike up a conversation for fear that they have had 40 failed IVF treatments, or worse yet that they are pregnant and are there for their final appointment? Anyway, here's my voice. The voice of the brunette sitting across the waiting room from you at the RE's office. The one who looks like nothing is bothering her, who is trying to make her hubby laugh, who is in silent disbelief on the inside.