I give up. If this IVF doesn’t work I am walking away. Into years of therapy and changing broken dreams into new ones.
DH’s grandma passed away and having to see his family is bringing up a lot of shit. Having a little cry fest (ugly cry at that) to myself because at 32 weeks pregnant my SIL “isn’t going to risk the 6 hour drive to the funeral”. And all I can think about is the fact that I should be 10 days away from my due date and it should be me not going instead of her.
I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.
Our next round of IVF starts tomorrow. I am terrified. Not of the drugs, injections, retrieval, transfer or anything like that – I am terrified it won’t work. That the embryo won’t take or we will have another miscarriage.
The thought stops me dead in my tracks and makes my heart race and my body sweat. I am so scared because I simply can’t go through that again. Another failure will ruin me. I know that is not the right attitude but it’s how I feel. I am scared. So very scared.
And yet, like a ride I can’t get off, here we go again.
If we ever end up with a baby of our own, I will love it more. I won’t complain about the sleepless nights or endless crying. I won’t mind the weight gain and the pain of birth. I will embrace the exhaustion and the disruption and the chaos.
Because I will know with every part of my soul how lucky we are.
And before my momma friends and readers get up in arms, I don’t mean more than you love your child, I mean more than my inexperienced self would have.
I will love my baby more than a younger me who got pregnant without any issues would have. I will love my baby more for the struggle and the journey to get there.
I will love my baby more for teaching me to cherish what I have, to be resilient and that no, money cannot buy happiness.
I will love my baby more for teaching me how precious life is.
January has been a big month for fertility decisions.
At the beginning of the month we attended a seminar on domestic adoption. It was a full two day event and a very emotionally intense couple of days. The seminar itself warrants its own post (or several) but in conclusion, we have given ourselves two months to reflect and talk about whether or not we want to proceed with domestic adoption. In the meantime, we plan to attend an information session on international adoption.
We attended the seminars at the advice of my psychologist who told us we need to evaluate adoption while we still feel like we have options. As she put it, we don’t want to look at each other in 10 years and say “Why didn’t we look into adoption again?” because that could very quickly lead to blame and resentment.
We were also offered another fresh IVF cycle. Which means the decision we were putting off now had to be made.
In the end, we have decided to proceed with another cycle and the Suprefact starts next week.
We did an old-fashioned pros and cons list but what it boiled to was that we might as well do this while we have the money and jobs as the economy is not getting any better and I am not getting any younger. It makes me angry, the money component. After this cycle we will have spent the equivalent of what we intend to spend on my DH’s MBA on trying to get pregnant.
It’s a pretty tough pill to swallow.
A Facebook friend posted this via Instagram:
Apparently it is a quote from someone named Liz Gilbert. I don’t know who that is, but I am not hip and with it these days. Anyway, this post isn’t about Liz Gilbert. I just wanted to make sure I gave the picture credit. I would hate to get sued.
I have a love/hate relationship with quotes like these. One hand I like the inspiration and the motivation. On the other, I hate the implication that I can control my life. Getting pregnant and carrying that baby to term is something I want.
But making a list about it and working towards it every “damn” day isn’t going to make it happen.
I might feel like I gave it my best shot, but in the end I might not get what I want and then I will feel like I have failed.
Like I said, love/hate.
I made the decision with my previous site not to keep it anonymous. I wanted to share my story with others and I wanted to be a resource for people who wanted to connect and to put a face to infertility.
Recently, we had a falling out with my parents and all of a sudden my mom started bringing up stuff on my blog. I guess I should have considered that could eventually happen. She was taking the blog personally and I didn’t know. If I posted about hurtful comments someone had made, she assumed it was a message to her. If I posted about being happy to spend Christmas with my DH because that’s what I needed, that was a slight on them. Of course it wasn’t and I tried to explain that wasn’t case.
But even the people you love can be really self-centered sometimes.
I discussed the pros and cons of deleting my previous blog with my psychologist and in the end, I realized it had to be done. I need my blog to be a place where I can be open. Where I can journal my thoughts and experiences. I can’t be worrying about how someone I know will react to something I write.
Blogging is a part of my healing and my process to move through the depression I am in.
Thankfully I was able to export the blog and now it lives here, anonymously and under a new name. I won’t be sharing it with family and I don’t know about friends either.
I cried when I deleted the other site. It was a different type of loss, but it still felt like I was losing a part of myself.
Consider it a warning would-be IF bloggers. Anonymity is golden.
This morning I compared waiting for my period like waiting for the executioner. You don’t want it to come and when it does you know it’s going to hurt.