(PRIVATE PARTS) By Stephanie Ericsson Illustration by Gabriele Ellertson “Infertility” is a very long word. It sounds dry and skinny, pursed-lipped and pitiful. But over and overfor more than a year, I heard this word refer to me. Each time it sounded entirely new and, each time, it seared me like a brand that stamped out my limitations. Inadequate. Incompetent. Infertile. The Scarlet I. But let me tell you about this ovarian odyssey. The time is the present, after twelve months of unsuccessful attempts to get pregnant. I am now consulting “the experts.” 24 Clinton St. Quarterly—Spring, 1989
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