I was in a unique position. I am hearing impaired, which made my frustrations worse. My doctor had an infertility support group going, and I went to one meeting, but got so lost--everybody was talking at the same time and my head ended up spinning like a police light. (I can speak and read lips.) I went to LDS Social Services next to see if I could sort out my thoughts on infertility and the family situation I had going on at the time. The counselor did try to understand where I was coming from, but being a guy, it didn't work. They swtiched me over to a lady, which was no better. Every other sentence she asked, "Do you need an interpreter so you can understand what I'm saying?" If I wasn't responding to her questions, then I would have needed an interpretor, DUH!

After that I went to see a licensed counselor from my insurance's preferred list and she was not LDS. She could not relate to the finer points of the LDS church and this prevalent doctrine to multiply and replenish the earth, along with the feeling that if you're not getting down to the business of doing it then you're being very, very selfish.

I've had sisters shake their fingers in my face and say, "Now, you mustn't dilly-dally like that." I would laugh it off with, "Oh, I want to get my Masters' before the little ones come." That was a flat-out lie, because I didn't want others to know about my frequent trips to the hospital and numerous blood workups, along with painful miscarriges.

It was hard dealing with medical personnel who didn't want to take the time to explain the procedures or what kind of tests they were planning to do on me. I went through FIVE different doctors to get the one who was willing to sit down with me and carefully explain the procedures, instead of blowing me off with an "ask the nurse," or "Next time, bring an interpreter so we won't waste time explaining things to you"--this in spite of the fact that they knew I was a Medical Technologist. One ER doctor was a complete moron in handling my 2nd miscarriage, and flippantly told me that I just might as well as give up.

Members of the church really do not understand the true extent of trying to get pregnant. They even joked in front of me by saying , "Oh, take my kids! They're driving me crazy!" I was even scolded by a sister who somehow found out that I was going through IVF--I don't know how she found out--- and told me that I had no right to interfere with God's plans. If he wanted me to be infertile then I should respect that.

Amazing how people can be so deluded.

Using faith and prayers as "fertility drugs," as some members suggested, was just as bad advice. One person told me I should go to the temple at least once a day to show my commitment to the church and to show that I'll be a good mom and will raise righteous children.

The Gold Medal of these Infertility Olympics goes to a sister who came up to me and patted my shoulder with this: "Now, don't you worry about getting pregnant, look at Sarah. Before she got pregnant when she was 90 years old, she never lost her faith, and was obedient and humble." What? This is insane! I bet Sarah beat her head against the wall and said, "Why? Why!?" I'm sure she cried herself to sleep every night and didn't have anybody to relate to since everybody, including Hagar, was dropping babies left and right.

Every time I get unsolicited advice, I repeat this mantra to myself: "The church is perfect, but the people are not."

You know what I regret the most? The doctors gave me ultrasound pictures of each baby (four different ultrasound pics, four different pregnancies) for me to focus on and think happy thoughts. They all had heartbeats at six weeks and then at eight weeks, the heartbeats simply vanished. Each time I had to go through another D&C, since my first miscarriage caused heavy, heavy, bleeding and they didn't want that to happen again. After the fourth one, I flipped out and grabbed all of the ultrasound pictures, threw them in the bathtub, lit a match, and burned them. My husband tried to stop me but I couldn't stand looking at the pictures because they seemed to gloat on the fact that I couldn't do anything right.

I shouldn't have burned the ultrasound pictures--I really shouldn't have. I should have put them in my journal and written about it so maybe sometime down the road, my kids and others could see them and read about it.

--Anonymous

NOTE: This sister was since able to have four children, though with great difficulty.