What if, amid all the wrapped and ribboned gifts there was a little jewelry box straight from the great Infertile Santa and his barren reindeer himself (he's the gift giver at my IF Christmas) given to all with unexplained infertility--the gift of a diagnosis? You'd grab it, right? It would be the first gift you'd open because you'd finally have an answer.
Unless what you want is not an answer but a solution. The key to unlocking your uterus and getting a baby to stay in there for nine months.
I know the grass is usually greener on the other side, but regardless of which side of fence you're currently standing, the methods for getting one pregnant are usually the same regardless of diagnosis. You would still be taking the same medications and doing the same procedures, only now with understanding the reason behind the actions and what these drugs and procedures are supposed to be correcting or circumventing. A diagnosis may save you some time and catapult you past certain steps (no reason for an IUI if your tubes are blocked). There are some diagnoses that come with specific solutions that may or may not be the key that turns the lock--certainly clearing up endo or removing a septum is going to help increase your chances if your diagnosis is endometriosis or a uterine anomaly.
And there are some diagnoses that make the decision for you so that you can stop trying in peace. Though medical science has a funny way of still bringing up the what ifs even in the face of poor statistics. But, regardless, there are times when a diagnosis is helpful to have in the sense that it gives you limits. It can help you move onto a different path.
But beyond these basic advantages to having a diagnosis, at the end of the day, it's the same procedures and medications used on both sides of the fence.
The other side of the diagnosis is the guilt and the loss of hope. What is wrong is not always fixable, which is why sometimes answers just suck. I don't want an answer; I want a solution. Even if your reason for infertility is treatable, the treatments don't always work.
It's just me writing from the other side with a diagnosis in hand, looking at the unexplained side and thinking, "maybe it would be easier for both parties if no one knew why." Because while you don't want it to be the other person's problem, you also don't want it to be you. I didn't want my husband do have to undergo any painful procedures or be saddled with guilt AND I didn't want that for myself. In the end, his SA came back fine and my tests came back every time with another answer. Low progesterone. High FSH. Poor responder. Clotting disorder (hey, that almost rhymed!).
Even though my husband has never made me feel guilty and has been only supportive. And even though I don't feel guilty that my body overproduces cholesterol putting me at risk for a heart attack or feel guilt over any other medical issue that indirectly affects my husband, I feel so guilty that I'm the reason we can't conceive. I'm the reason we spend all this money and I'm the reason that for a long time, we had no children. And if I don't go through all of this, I'm the reason we won't have children. Sometimes, I feel like I have to put my body through treatments simply because it is my fault. That if my husband wanted to choose adoption, I could go that route. But since this is all my fault, I should be willing to do anything to conceive if my husband wants a child biologically related to him.
Which I know isn't rational and believe me, my head knows something much different from my heart. But my heart sometimes has the louder voice. It's almost as if my head speaks to me in my calm, Maryland accent and my heart yells at me in the voice of my Hungarian great-grandmother. And guess who wins out in a shouting contest?
But, again, this is just the grass always being greener on the other side. Which is why I want to hear the other side too. Plus, Kris, who is seriously tuned into the same wavelength as me (and we both jotted down this idea to one another back at the beginning of November), said that she was kicking around this idea too. Start writing, Kris!