This last week has been full of reflection. I’ve had a lot of long drives by myself to and from the doctors. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve been able to look at this journey and think something positive.

As I’ve thought back through these past two and a half years, I started thinking about all of the things that I wish I knew back when Anthony and I first got married. Given that 1 in 6 women now experience difficulty getting pregnant, I figured I could share some of my “wisdom” with you all to keep you from making the same mistakes and missteps that I did.

So, here are a few of the logistical things I wish I would’ve known or been told when I started this path:

1. Don’t wait to get help.

This one is tough. It’s tough because I know that for so many of you, it doesn’t feel like you are waiting; it feels like you are being proactive and tough and self-sufficient. There are many women out there who experience infertility for years before seeking out medical help. If that’s you, I completely understand. I was you. I had told myself that if I just got healthier, cured my IBS, ate right, gained/lost some weight, relaxed, and stopped worrying about it, it would “just happen” (how many of you have heard that line before 😉 ).

And guess what? It didn’t.

After going to see a number of specialists for infertility, IBS, thyroid, fatigue, etc., I’ve learned some fancy stats that might bring some clarity to you (these are stats from my doctors and online.)

For a completely, perfectly normal couple with perfect sperm and perfect ovulation with perfect eggs, there is only a 20% of conceiving in a given month for the first year. After 12 months of attempting to conceive, that number drops to a measly 5% or less.

Even if you are changing your diet, exercising, etc. your chances are incredibly small of conceiving naturally. This is not to say that it’s impossible or has not happened. There are a ton of couples who have been able to conceive after years of infertility. But, if there is something wrong or abnormal about either you or your spouse when it comes to reproduction, you should find out as soon as possible.

While not knowing might spare you some momentary grief, avoiding finding out your current reproductive health will cost you much more time in the end.

Most physicians will not recommend that you seek out a fertility specialist until after a year as standard. After we hit year one, I was either too afraid or too stubborn to seek out help. I was convinced we were fine. I figured that my health had gotten in the way, so instead of seeking out fertility help, we sought out other avenues to get me back to normal.

After a visit to the IBS Treatment Center in Seattle and five months on a new diet/supplement plan, I did see some improvement in my health, but I still was not pregnant. That’s why I started this after all. I became unmotivated. Five months doesn’t seem like a long time, but when your mental baby clock is ticking, every month you aren’t pregnant is a heart-wrenching, earth-shattering, waste of time.

At about a year and eight months of TTC (trying to conceive) I finally reached out to a specialist. Thus begins part two of this saga.

2. Investigate your health insurance benefits.

If you are employed or your husband is employed and has health benefits, you’ll need to dedicate some time to finding out what your insurance may or may not cover.

Many times, typical insurance plans do not cover infertility treatments, but some will cover “diagnosis” testing. For some people, that’s all they need. Simply going through diagnosis can reveal underlying issues that can be solved with hormones, diet and exercise changes, or timed intercourse.

Even if your results come out as ours did, “unexplained,” you will have completed a lot of the first steps of what any fertility assistance will require.

Don’t just assume that your insurance doesn’t cover anything. Even though it’s a pain, it could save you hundreds or thousands of dollars (I know this because we paid out of pocket for all of the initial tests, bummer).

If your insurance does cover your treatment (wahoo!) make sure you get the details about what they cover. For example, our health insurance wouldn’t cover any treatment done at a non-COE (Center of Excellence) but they did cover the diagnosis testing at other facilities.

Be warned: this can get very complicated and overwhelming. I’d recommend taking notes and really relying on your spouse to help you call around and ask questions. You will probably need to give him permission with your insurance to do so, but it helps when you can both tackle it together.

3. Discuss finances and estimate expenses up front.

Some people can’t seek out fertility help because of their financial situation. To those of you, my heart is with you. There are a handful of organizations that can help with the cost of your treatment here. I haven’t personally done a ton of research on these non-profits, but it’s definitely worth exploring if you have the need.

Fertility specialists, testing, and treatment are expensive. That’s just the truth of it. Because most insurances do not cover this kind of specialty treatment, even diagnosis tests can be several hundred dollars each.

As you begin to take this leap of faith, be prepared for some large numbers, be prepared to feel disappointed and afraid–trust me, I have, but then see what your options actually are.

When you are looking at the numbers, it might be disheartening at first, but at least you will know what is possible.

For example, when we were going through this, I was unemployed and Anthony had just started a job. We didn’t have health insurance, so we had to pay for everything in-full. We had to be open about what we could afford and what we had to cut in order to pay for our testing.

Once our health insurance kicked in, we had done so much of the work already that wasn’t covered as well as several rounds of different treatment which we paid in full for all. That’s why you MUST find out what your options are with insurance.

4. Research. Research. Research.

I don’t mean look up stats of how likely it is you could be pregnant even if you are currently on your period (not likely, friends, sorry, I’ve played that card before), or going to WebMD to see if your made-up ailments match pregnancy symptoms. I mean research what facility you go to. Don’t just take the word of your primary care doctor or Google. Call every facility that you think might be a good fit (or that your health insurance covers).

We have been to four different fertility clinics in the last year and each time the shift happened after I ignored warning signs that it wasn’t the right fit.

When it comes to this incredibly personal and private matter, the absolute most important thing is that you feel comfortable and confident in the facility you choose.

Our first clinic didn’t send my prescriptions in on time, meaning that we lost an entire cycle–an error they didn’t ever own up to or apologize for. Our second clinic had the absolute worst billing system and their staff was rude and cold. Our third clinic was full of some really amazing people, but we found out our insurance did not cover our treatment there (after going through the treatment). And then we landed on our fourth and FINAL (hopefully) clinic, which has an amazing staff, a cocky, but confident senior doctor, and an incredibly helpful and pleasant billing department.

Going through this was so painful. And we wasted so much time because I just wanted to get going right that second.

I won’t ever tell you to wait–I know that that’s not even an option, but find the right facility and commit to them. Fertility procedures can be very intensive and involved, so you want to make sure you have the right people behind you to make your efforts successful.

You’d be surprised how much you can pick up from an initial phone call. If you can’t tell whether or not they are a good fit on the first call, schedule a consultation (sometimes these are free of charge, but you’ll have to ask) and make sure to ask a lot of questions.

Like, what are their live birth rates? What are their success rates for your age group and diagnosis? Will the tests you’ve already done transfer to this facility? And what is their patient procedure like?

Get a sense for the kind of facility they are. If they seem unorganized, ax them. If they are bitchy, cut-them loose. You will have so many other things to be fussing over, don’t let the clinic be one of them.

5. Realize that things will go wrong. Terribly wrong. 

By far, this is the hardest lesson that I’ve learned. When you finally brave your way to a facility clinic, you expect that stepping foot in the door is your big accomplishment and that the worst of it has passed.

It hasn’t.

Sorry.

Once you’ve gotten up the courage to go ask for help, you will have to adamantly demand the level of help you need. You will have to babysit professionals, get put on hold a hundred times, talk to fifteen different people on three different continents, call your pharmacy incessantly, resend documents, redo tests, and repeat yourself so many times it will make you crazy. I hope this isn’t your experience, but go in expecting it and you might be less frustrated than I was.

Every single aspect of this process has felt like a battle. Everything in this process is a battle.

You’ll have to fight your desire to throw the towel in and give up. You’ll have to fight the urge to lose it every time you have to retell your infertility story to another uncaring receptionist. You’ll fail. I do all of the time. I’ve locked myself in more closets, bathrooms, and empty rooms than I can count. But that same thing that has led you this far will keep you on your feet and you will prevail.

This journey through infertility is not for the faint of heart. It’s not even for the strong in heart. But somehow, so many of us land in this unexpected and difficult situation that we have no choice but to face. I know you don’t feel strong enough to do this. I know the expense, the medication, the doctors, the needles, blood, sweat, tears, is scary. Trust me, I know. It’s all scary. Even after a year of doing this, I’m scared every single time I walk into the doctor’s office. I still haven’t gotten used to the pokes and prodding. I haven’t gotten used to this aching.

You are so much braver than you think, dear ones. Your bodies are stronger than you think; your minds are not as fragile as they feel. You can do this. If you are feeling weak, lean on your spouse, your friends, family, lean on God, and feel free to lean on me.

Baby dust to all of you. Praying for your little miracles.