So, What Happens Now?

I've been doing a lot of thinking for the past few days as to what the hell I want to do with all of this. Of course, I've had my pity party (table for one?), gotten trashed, been through the usual emotions that accompany a failed cycle-desperation, frustration, bitterness, anger, sadness. But I haven't explored that vast and slightly scary question of what to do next. Do I do another cycle right away, or do I take another break? Should I throw in the towel altogether or stick it out? And, how do I come to a decision that I can peacefully live with?

Your comments certainly put things into perspective. Things could be a lot worse. How I can say that, given the numerous failures, is insane. But, I do realize that there are people out there who have gone through so much more than even I. Sometimes it's hard to remember or even believe that, but I do acknowledge that. And, that is saying something.

So, what should I do, you're wondering? Well, first thing's first-I go to the follow-up Friday afternoon with Dr. Pipsqueak. I honestly don't think that there will be too many answers to the "why the fuck didn't it work this time" question. There aren't many, besides it's just a bad turn of the infertility roulette wheel. And, I'm sure that they'll suggest to try again. But, at what emotional cost? Is it worth losing my sanity?

I can't remember a day that hasn't gone by when I haven't thought of being pregnant, babies or motherhood. I'm tired of feeling worthless because of another pregnancy announcement, shower invitation or birth announcement. I want my life back again. I want to feel like I did before we were plunged into the world of infertility like jumping into a freezing lake-carefree, naive, ready to take on the world. Now all I feel is cautious, unsure and fearful. I hate being so preoccupied with my girly bits and how they are or are not working. I hate having half of the New Jersey chapter of the ACOG looking up my cooter. I hate that I will never really have a pregnancy that is blissfully ignorant of what could go wrong, if I should be so lucky to get pregnant again in the first place. And, as blasphemous as this will sound (read?), I sometimes hate God that He is just being the observer in this whole drama. That He's stopped listening to me. Hell, I've even prayed to have the desire to be a mother taken away from me, and I'm still being ignored. Go figure.

Yes. I've decided that yes, it IS worth it. I'm not getting any younger. It's not going to get any easier. I've been around the infertility block a few times, so to speak. I know the scene. But, I've decided that I'm tired of being defined by my infertility. I need to accept that I can't control this situation. No amount of praying, acupuncture, pineapple, positive imaging, or medical help will determine the outcome. It's a lot like auditioning in theatre-if you took it personally every time you don't get the part, you won't get very far as an actor or singer. You've got to have a thick skin, in order to pick yourself up and go back to pounding the pavement. Honestly, it's all a game of chance, and, between you and me, I suck at gambling.

But, if the doctors tell me that they "strongly feel" that I will be pregnant and deliver a healthy child, then why don't I feel the odds are in my favor? If they're that confident, why don't I feel the same? I really think that it's because I'm more emotionally invested in this compared to the doctors. That's not to say that they're not emotionally connected in some way-I feel, especially in my clinic, the doctors, nurses and staff are kind, compassionate women. But, they're not going through it (although I did hear a rumor that Dr. Cheery, who did my last transfer, also went through IVF), so they can't truly know how it feels when you get another failed cycle call from your nurse. I truly wish that I could just tune out emotionally during a cycle so it doesn't affect me (don't we all...), but we all know that won't happen.

So, we have 6 three-day embryos left, and hopefully some blasts made it to refreeze. We'll try it again, until they're all used up. Then we'll have to make a decision as to what is next-whether or not we can do another fresh cycle is up to our insurance, as I might or might not have another chance under my coverage. That's as far as I'm willing to go in deciding my reproductive future right now.

That should be enough. More than enough, for now.