Sitting in my gynecologist's office waiting for my yearly exam, I am surrounded by couples who are breathlessly anticipating their visit with their unborn child via sonogram. Women with big bellies in various stages of pregnancy sit, albeit somewhat uncomfortably, lulled by the baby they hold within. For every Cosmo magazine or Bon Appétit there are at least three or four new mother publications featuring big fat babies on the cover. Memories come flooding back of all my years spent undergoing fertility treatments and following high-risk pregnancies, swinging from sonogram to sonogram until there was no heartbeat. I immediately recognize that I have got to get out of here as soon as possible. I fight with the nurse about being weighed, "No, I really weigh myself every day so there is no need". Because let's be honest, weight is not my issue. I am now forced to consult with my doctor on a regular basis to discuss how vigilant I need to be given all my years undergoing fertility treatments. The beating my ovaries took due to all the hyper stimulation drugs, over the course of years, can cause ovarian cancer which is virtually symptomless until stage four. This is my new reality, finding ways to ensure I don't get the dreaded disease which is the frightening side effect of the "disease" of infertility. As I explained to my husband, back then the science wasn't what it is today, no one knew what our desperate years could bring. A new reality indeed.