The days leading up to the appointment were a special kind of hell. I moved through my life like a ghost in my own home, a walking embodiment of my husband’s disappointment. At a charity function, I smiled and nodded, all while the words echoed in my head: a problem to be fixed. I felt like a fraud in my own skin, a malfunctioning appliance being sent out for repair. The humiliation was a constant, bitter taste in my mouth.

Tuesday arrived faster than i'd expected. I stood in front of my walk-in closet for an hour, feeling like a soldier choosing armor for a battle I knew I was...