I've been trying to post for the last few days-I kept starting a post, then canceling it. I do have so much that's been on my mind lately, but I can't seem to put it into words, which is odd for me.
I've been thinking a lot about being the last of my friends (who want kids) who are still trying to conceive, when people all have one (or two). A perfect example is my Futility Friend group that I started this journey on. They have all made it over to the Land of Mommyhood (Ilyse being the most recent one); but it's not to say that it happened easily for them. But, they all got their happy ending.
And it made me the last one left. The only one without a baby. And, in some ways it drove a little bit of a wedge between us, because there are certain things that I obviously can't participate with them. I haven't been through late-night feedings, teething, knowing which diaper is the best, how to potty train. But, that's not to say that I feel any differently about them-they are wonderful women and have always been there for me, no matter what. They've been there more than some of my IRL friends. And, I can write this with no worry that they will be upset or offended by what I say, because they've been there and they understand what I'm saying, even if the words I use might seem petty and jealous and childish.
So, I freely admit it here-I hate being the last one. It's like when you were in grammar school and you're chosen last out of the class for the kickball team-even the kid that has coke-bottle glasses and a limp gets picked before you. And you feel like a loser, as if there's a taint on you that everyone can see. I hate hate HATE being last.
But, here I am, the last in line. Last and yet least. Because being the only one without a child when everyone else has their babies makes you feel even more inadequate. It's bad enough that infertility has invaded my life, but at one time I had hope that it wouldn't take long-I was young, relatively healthy (even with my crappy tubes), didn't smoke or do drugs. Now, almost five years later, I feel so much more jaded about it. I'm not even sure that this will even work for me at all. It hasn't yet. And, even though the doctors seem positve, they're not absolutely sure. Nothing is 100% guaranteed. Some days I'm okay with it, and other days I'm an one emotion away from a nervous breakdown. I feel cheated a lot of the time, like I'm missing out on so much. Yet, there are some times that I'm okay with it, as if perhaps, if this didn't work out, I'd survive childless.
So, why the philosophical meanderings? Well, we've received a "go" on the FET. I started my antibiotics, Medrol and oral Progesterone this morning. I have a lining check on Wednesday, and we're going in on Thursday afternoon, time to be determined. We've got those 6 totsicles left to use, and hopefully they won't have to go through them all to get something good to transfer.
I'm feeling the pressure more with this cycle. This is it-the last of the 18 we got last June. If they go through all of the embryos, we've only got one more shot at a fresh cycle before the insurance craps out on us. And, I'm not sure if I even want to do another fresh cycle. I haven't thought that far ahead yet.
I know that I should be grateful that we even got that many embryos to begin with, since there are many people out there who get only a few (or even none that are viable). But hey, this is my pity party and I'll cry if I want to-I damn well deserve it. I just don't want to have to go through this all over again-the shots, the daily monitoring, the retrieval, transfer and waiting. It sucks, and let's face it-I'm getting older, and you know what they say about fertility declining with age. 35 is looming for me-that cut-off age when I won't be a "young" patient anymore, at least, as far as the medical establishment is concerned.
Seriously, though, I am just getting so weary of all of this babymaking crap. I hate that infertility is always in the back of mind, invading my thoughts and preying on my hopes and fears and anxiety. I can't remember what my life was like before it. Was I a happy-go-lucky type of person? What happened to that person? And, do I like who I am now?
I'm trying to stay "positive"; or, at least, I'm trying to stay neutral so as to not poison myself emotionally with this FET. But, it's getting harder to do with each failed cycle. And, it just sucks, all around.
I'll update with a FET time when Nurse Blondie calls me tomorrow.
Let the fun begin.