Our visit to the fertility doctor

The life of Tess Hoens is wonderful, but even for her, there are things that don't quite go as she had hoped. And she wants to write about that. Because there is already enough of a facade and because honesty helps. Tess has a desire to have children, but getting pregnant is still not working.

My boyfriend takes my hand. Suddenly, I become very aware of all the signals we give off as a couple to the fertility doctor. He doesn't know us; he only knows that we want to have a baby together.

The fertility doctor is the type of man one imagines when thinking of a doctor. Gray, middle-aged, and wearing glasses that he puts on when he reads something. Only instead of listening stately and nodding, this doctor moves a lot with his body, makes big gestures, and sticks out his tongue when searching for the right words.

In preparation for the conversation, we filled out a questionnaire. That was necessary. I don't remember exactly what was asked, I only clearly remember that we had to fill in our professions. Hairdresser and personal trainer… With the combination of those two professions, I envisioned a very different couple than ourselves. A couple about whom he, as a doctor, could secretly make all sorts of judgments, assuming that his intelligence is quite a bit higher than theirs.

Should he take my hand or is that just for show? Does Dr. Mesman think we are too young to be so serious about this? I am sure that this kind of uncertain thoughts are not going through my boyfriend's mind at this moment.

Okay, focus.

I tell how my previous visit went. ‘PCOS? Did they say that?’ He raises his eyebrows so high that I wonder if I can do that too. ‘Well, that’s why you’re sitting a door further down. You don’t have PCOS,’ he says slightly arrogantly. ‘Unfortunately, you do have another type of ovulation disorder.’ This is the moment I learn that you shouldn’t take doctors and assistants at their word: the small woman from last time had undoubtedly said PCOS. Unfortunately, the moment I actually learn this comes much later.

‘And my results? Are they completely fine now?’ my boyfriend asks. ‘Yes, the problem really lies with her.’ The doctor's finger points straight at my face; he tries to make it funny, but my boyfriend stands up for me. ‘It’s nobody’s fault.’

Dr. Mesman shrugs his shoulders and looking at me, he continues: ‘You need to take this pill for five days.’ He shows a box (for those in the know: Clomid). ‘Then you come back on the fourteenth day of your cycle for an ultrasound to see if it works. This will be fine, no big deal.’ He laughs.

And I really trusted him.

Written by: Tess Hoens