No one has ever really asked me where I came up with the name of this blog. It's not my name. I didn't make it up. Early in my career as an infertile there was one particular nurse who would show me to the exam room and say, "You know the drill; bottoms off and on the table." It stuck with me. She was so nonchalant about the whole thing; the whole thing being showing your vagina to a stranger. Of course eventually taking my pants off because the normal course of business. I almost absentmindedly disrobed at the dentist office once.
If I had to rename my blog today I would call it "The Ovary Monologues." Of course when this blog started I didn't know that my ovaries would cause so much trouble. I didn't think of my ovaries much at all. In sixth grade I learned about them in a sex education class. Over the years I didn't think of them much after that. I thought about my uterus when I had cramps or when I imagined a baby inside. I thought about my vagina (no comments there). My ovaries were ignored. Totally neglected. Abandoned. Overlooked. A non thought.
I remember the first time I saw them. They were bountiful and luscious and full of follicles. I was so proud. Then I found out they were too bountiful, too luscious, and my cycle was cancelled. I was disappointed, but still proud.
Shortly there after everything changed. My ovaries failed me. They failed to produce the proper quantity of follicles. They failed to produce the proper quality of eggs.
It was a total blindside. These little thought of organs suddenly took center stage. They were ruining my life.
I haven't seen my ovaries for months now. I'm making peace with them. They just couldn't do what I wanted them to do. That's just the way it is.