I shake my head. I used to reckon I was a lucky person; now I’m not so sure.

Dr. Tremain talks about preliminary tests they can run: an ultrasound, blood tests. It’ll take about forty-five minutes to do both, and the blood tests will definitely be covered by my insurance. Apparently that’s all it takes to get a “baseline assessment of my fertility.” She says if I want, she can fit me in for the bloodwork and ultrasound today, or I can make an appointment to come back in the future.

“Of course,” she says pointedly, “this is only one-half of the equation. According to our statistics, of the 80 percent of couple infertility cases where we’re looking at individual fertility issues, it’s split straight down the middle between what we call ‘male factor’ and ‘female factor.’” She looks at me, and I think the look in her eyes is meant to remind me that I have a somewhat irresponsible husband who decided that a work meeting was more important than showing up today. That’s what I told her when she asked me about my partner—that he had an unavoidable work thing come up last minute.

“Society does a lot of messaging about the female biological clock,” she continues, “but the reality is that fertility issues occur at approximately the same rates for both sexes. Men don’t have the hard cut-off point of menopause, but male and female fertility dwindles at about the same rate up until the mid-forties. Increased risks of genetic disorders follow a similar pattern.”

Huh. Everyone talks about “advanced maternal age” when a woman’s having kids in her forties, but I’ve never seen anyone point fingers at the mid-forties husband.

“So,” Dr. Tremain smiles briskly. “I do hope you’ll urge your husband to join you on your next appointment so we can get a better snapshot of the whole situation.”

I clear my throat. “I’m sure he’ll want to come in at the earliest opportunity,” I say. “Meanwhile, I’d like to go ahead with those tests today.”

Tests. Why do they have to call them tests?

“Absolutely.” Dr. Tremain folds her hands on the desk. “There may be a small wait but we’ll fit you in.” She reminds me that although the follicle count will be immediate, the blood tests results will take a few days, then leads me back to the waiting room where I fill out some more forms, and after a while a nurse calls me through a different door. She leads me into a small examination room with one of those crinkly paper-covered beds.

“Dr. Tremain will be right with you.”

My heart skitters as I disrobe. It feels like a long wait until the doctor comes in, and when she does she looks a whole lot taller now that I’m all the way down here.

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s see what we can see.”