Journey: Jenna & Julien

Late Night Research

Jenna:
The past four months have been torture. Our entire lives were revolving around having a baby. Every month it was the same. Trying not to get our hopes up. Talking ourselves into believing that if I'm not pregnant, it's ok. But subconsciously, we couldn't shake the glimmer of hope that this time would be different. This time, I would be pregnant. But everytime, I wasn't.
We've been trying for six months total. Half a year. Half of a goddamn year.
And it seems like everyone around us is having babies. Colleen and Josh told us a month ago that they're expecting. Right around then, my brother and his wife also announced that they're pregnant again. Gabs is becoming really noticeably pregnant. And somehow I seem to encounter more pregnant women and little kids when ever I'm out.
It just feels so unfair. They can all get pregnant, and I can't. Why me? What did I do? What's wrong with me?
That's the question that rings in my head like a gong as I sit pretzel-style on my bed at 3 am, with my laptop on my lap. Julien just left for a three-day trip with Arnold and Josh. So I'm alone. Alone and haunted by my thoughts. What's wrong with me? The words beat with my heart, gush through my veins, pulse in my fingertips.
"Why can't I get pregnant?" I type into my computer shakily. What's wrong with me? I click on a website that boasts it'll display "15 Ways To Kickstart Your Baby-Making Process". All of the information is gives is basics, like to know your period cycle.
What's wrong with me?
I click on another website that says, "So You're Having Trouble Making A Baby."
It's an article all for people who aren't happy with the sex they're having.
What's wrong with me?
Finally I find a headline that promises an answer to "Bad Luck or Infertility?"
What's wrong with me? Continues to echo through my body. I feel like I'm screaming it by the time I'm halfway through this article. But as I read, I realize that I might suffer from infertility.
That's what's wrong with me. I think to myself.
I keep Googling more questions. And reading long articles. For hours.
"How to solve infertility." "Cost of infertility doctors." "Infertility doctors in LA."
By the time I find a doctor that seems to work well for me, it's almost 8 am. Without thinking, I call the number on the website, intending to make an appointment.
When the peppy receptionist asks me for my information, I begin to tell her. I'm startled to hear my scratchy voice. I notice that my cheeks feel slightly sticky from sobbing. I also realize, after hanging up, that I made my appointment for tomorrow - the day before Julien gets home. I'll have to go alone.
Fine. Whatever. I just need answers. I can't go another six months without a baby.