Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Pity, Party of One

I'm feeling sorry for myself today. I'm completely overwhelmed by everything that lies ahead, and I want desperately to be normal. As much as they annoy me, for just five minutes I want to be one of the blissfully unaware fertiles, who makes insensitive comments just because she hasn't learned what it is to walk this road.

Speaking of insensitive comments, a friend asked me not too long ago how close together we wanted to have our children. This on the heel of a conversation about our latest and greatest medicated cycle...I think I managed to answer politely that we were concentrating all our efforts on just having the first one. Truthfully, I don't know exactly what I said, because a dam burst in my head and all sorts of sarcastic retorts were swirling around in there. (I think I behaved myself.) When I came up for air, she was talking about someone who was so organized that she planned her babies' birth-months, so they wouldn't be born on holidays or other special family occasions. In hindsight, I think my friend may have been trying to make me feel better about everything we've been going through by seeing the bright side: "Hey! You're taking all this medication to make you ovulate, so you have the power to plan when your baby will be born." I really don't think she had a clue that failed cycles are possible.

I remember those days...with every "first" there was renewed hope. The first clomid cycle, the first higher-dose clomid cycle, the first trigger shot and IUI cycle - each time I was certain it would work. But with every "first" and the renewed hope it brought, the heartbreak was renewed as well. Each time I told myself that it would be easier, because I'm used to the disappointment now. And each time I was surprised when it was so much harder.

So I guess it's easy to see, in hindsight, how I've become this cynical. I harbor a fear deep in my heart that IVF won't work for us, at least not the first time. I know too many people who've experienced that heartache not to respect the odds. The odds scare me.

It's a beautiful summery day here, but I want to go back home and hide in bed. I didn't even put on makeup today. I'm sitting in the office with a baseball cap, an old ratty shirt, jeans and sneakers. (Thankfully there is no one else here.) And no makeup, did I mention that? That is huge for me - I don't go ANYWHERE without makeup. It's a necessity. I think my outward appearance is a direct reflection of my inward state of being today...messy, with no makeup to cover the wounds on my heart.

I'm so tired of all of this. I'm tired of needles, and invasive and painful procedures (and doctors who don't prescribe enough valium for them). I'm tired of friends and family who think my pain over this will just "go away". I'm tired of people who think it's okay to gossip about our infertility under the guise of asking people to pray for us. I'm tired of making excuses for why I can't go to a baby shower, or come over and see the nursery. I'm tired of avoiding social events, because people who know our situation don't have the common sense to know that I don't want to hear every little detail of their newborn's life. I'm tired of not feeling well, and having my hormones all out-of-whack. This is a rest cycle - it should be better, not worse!!

*whew* I feel better now that I got that out. Now I'm just tired...

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