Well pardon my French but fuck me was I unprepared for the initial fertility clinic visit. Ladies, we need to stop telling each other doctor’s trips are “a little uncomfortable.” I could have used some forewarning.   

So this was it. October 26, 2020. A day I’ve had in my calendar for weeks as I’ve waited impatiently for my appointment. There’s a weird thing that happens when you book your first visit. It takes so much to even get to the point of saying the words out loud: “Please refer me to a specialist for artificial insemination.”

Once it’s in your calendar, it fills you with both relief and trepidation. Relief because there was literally nothing else I could do after I made the booking. I couldn’t test my own blood. I couldn’t do a thing to make any of this happen faster. All I could do was wait and after months of wrestling with this decision, that was an unexpected gift.   

I suppose you’d expect me to spend that month of freedom thinking about how great being a mom will be. Well, zero chance of that. I spent it studiously avoiding thinking anything about the appointment or being a single mom, which brings me to the trepidation.  

If anyone tells you this is an easy process, they’re lying. I think nerves are going to be one of the biggest hurdles to having a baby alone and they were already kicking in. So instead, I thought about anything other than having a kid. I thought about work. The pandemic. My sister’s wedding. Anything to avoid thinking about what I was set on doing: altering my life in an irreparable way without any sort of safety net. By myself.  

 Prepping for your first appointment  

Alright ladies, let’s head for those hard truths, shall we? Your first appointment is going to be intimate. Really intimate. If you prefer to keep the shop tidy, do some grooming before you see the doctor because there will be multiple people up in your business during this initial appointment.  So how did it all go down?

I arrived at the sign-in station (these are Covid times, after all), and was temperature checked.  Then I had to wait in the waiting room for about an hour before anyone had time to see me. I actually got all my tests done first before I saw the doctor because she was running behind.   

First, they took me to get my blood work done. A nurse asked if I had any fainting issues with giving blood and I said no, having had yearly blood tests for most of my adult life. But I should have asked how much blood the nurse meant. This is not a blood test like you’d run on a typical check-up. You know those little vials they stand up in those red or blue plastic rectangle racks? Yeah, she had nearly two rows of tubes to fill. If you get queasy easily, I’d advise eating a meal before going to this appointment if you have any blood or needle issues as you’ll be in the chair getting your blood drawn for a few minutes.   

After the blood tests, I was escorted into a typical exam room with a bed with stirrups. Another nurse asked me to disrobe and wait for the specialist. This part is super typical to most pap smear experiences. Not one but two women teamed up to take samples they’d need to test for fertility and hormone levels to get a sense of how optimal my body was to carry a child. Once they had what they needed, they tapped out for yet another nurse to give me an ultrasound. At this point so many people had seen or checked in on me I was just staring at the ceiling and praying for a quick end.   

The ultrasound is invasive, don’t think it isn’t. You will likely receive both an abdomen ultrasound and a trans-vaginal one. But I’d say the whole procedure was about 10-15 minutes and while it’s not the most pleasant experience you can definitely get through it. Once finished, I was instructed to dress and wait for the doctor to finally see me.  

I was escorted to an office that opened onto what looked like a rather abandoned hallway.  

“Keep the door open for ventilation,” the doc said. “Covid,” she added with a shrug.   

She then went on to open the file she’d received about me from my GP. She had my most recent general blood work and medical history. Plus, the ultrasound results I’d just had.   

The meeting was pretty much what you’d expect. I was asked how long I’d been thinking about doing this. A lot about my family history and any potential medical issues. My understanding of the process and next steps. I learned a few things following this initial visit:

1. I needed to schedule another test, a sonohysterogram, that would check the openness of my tubes, but it could be done closer to actually pulling the trigger.  

2. I needed to set up an appointment with a psychologist for a psych eval to explain to me what might happen when my child turns 18 and wants to find their biological father and what to expect from a medical perspective about the whole process. News flash, I was told that’s totally a mandatory thing in Ontario, not that I minded either way.   

3. I needed to research the 3 donor companies which served Ontario that could hook me up with “straws” of donor sperm.   

I’d say my doctor was pretty brusque but at the end of the day, I need competence, not hand holding. However, if you’re looking for a warmer experience, it might be a good idea to interview a few different fertility specialists so you can have the right kind of support for you.   

With my homework of getting the psych appointment and finding some sperm, I was sent home.     

Guess now it’s time to see how much a “straw” of some stranger’s genetic material actually cost.  Stay tuned for that fun ride.