As physicians, we know all too well how life can change in an instant. How tomorrow is never promised. This knowledge can sometimes feel overwhelming, but it is also a gift. Because we know how precious life is. I am a physician—but I am also a patient. An infertility patient, for whom each passing year can feel like a lost opportunity. Because my eggs don’t have the perspective. They don’t see the privilege. They are in a rush. My path towards motherhood was later than others. I spent my best, fertile years in medical school and residency, waiting for the “right” time. I’ve been asked: Am I grateful or angry for those years? It may surprise you that I can say both. During my fertility journey, there was a combination of emotions I felt on a regular basis—hope, grief, compassion, fear, love, jealousy, determination, and anger. Above all else, as a physician, I felt conflicted. How dare I feel sorry for myself? How easy it was to move from self-pity to anger. Anger: that no one educated me about infertility awareness, about family planning—how is this not a part of our education? Anger: that at age thirty-five, I was already classified as “advanced maternal age.” Anger: that my body seemed to be failing me at such a “young” age. But there was gratitude, too. And gratitude is stronger. Gratitude: for the knowledge I have gained about infertility awareness. Gratitude: for the opportunity to have access to medical care to help me start my family. Gratitude: for the community I became a part of—1 in 8 of all women—because it is all too easy to feel isolated in our journeys. And after all the ups and downs over the last five years, I have been given the greatest of all my gifts: my two sons. It is because of all this that I share my story. Today, when people ask me when I’m having another child (just like early on when I was asked when I was going to start having children), I don’t just smile politely and say, “Oh, I’m not ready yet,” I tell it like it is. I share my story—the revolving door of specialists, the constant anxiety of IVF, the sobering consideration of surrogacy and adoption—because in doing so, I might help at least one other woman. I want all medical students and residents to have infertility awareness. So they can be educated to make decisions that are best for them. So they are not blind-sided when they are ready to start a family. I became a fertility and life coach so I can help other women find confidence and clarity on their journeys. They will not be alone. We can make it better together. I am hoping to go through IVF again in 2021. When I do so, I know I will have help. I will not be alone, either. I am grateful for each year, each experience, each challenge—to become a better version of myself. A better wife, mother, doctor. What a gift. Source
