This past week has been rough in my TTC world. I will not deny it.
BFPs for friends left and right. The friend with whom I’d be commiserating (mentioned here) got her BFP this weekend. While I was happy for her, I immediately went into the kitchen where my husband was, burst into tears, and let him soothe me with a hug and a Coke and tequila. She’d also just started seeing an RE. I get to continue down this path all by my lonesome. I’m so glad I listened to my gut and didn’t share this blog with her.
She sent me a message wishing me good luck and saying that she was hopeful that I’d keep her updated on testing and TTC. It’s a message I expected and dreaded and haven’t answered. It’s a gesture that I find both nice and slightly condescending: once you have your BFP, you don’t have to think about TTC, and offering to listen to someone else doesn’t ring that sincere to me given my experience. Your boat has pushed away from shore and you just want to wave and turn your back on that difficult time. As sweet as some friends are, I’ve noticed they don’t really want to hear it if you’re still in the throes of it all. (Unless you’re like some people and stick around giving unhelpful advice as to what worked for you, like how vaginal temping totally changed the game or how you should add this or that supplement to your diet. Ugh.)
I confess that I’m starting to get (even more) bitter. I confess that I’m starting to think wistfully of the days when I was unsure about kids, and how nice it was to not think about it constantly. There’s a growing part of me that wants to turn to the husband and say, “Honey, fuck it. Just FUCK. IT. Let’s grow old together, go the hell wherever we want, do whatever we want, retire in comfort. When we feel we’ve lived our lives to the fullest and before we begin to decline, let’s close our garage door, climb into our car, run it, and go into oblivion hand in hand.”
(If the above alarms you … y’all need to calm down and read “Toga Party” by John Barth.)
Part of this line of reasoning is this: how far will we go in this journey? If we continue on our merry way and are told we need to consider IVF at any point, we’re done. That is something that I absolutely, positively, will not do. I’ve always said so and my husband has always agreed. Our want of a child is not great enough for us to put me through that kind of medical regimen. Now, that is way cart before horse, but I’m also dreading the idea of an IUI. It’s not certain we’d immediately jump to that, but we’re probably going toward some kind of medicated cycle. And seriously? That just breaks my heart. I shouldn’t need fucking pills. I shouldn’t need to put myself through any kind of treatment to conceive. If this is Mother Nature’s way of saying that my husband and I, as parents, no dice? Fine. Medical advances or not, this is what it is, and I don’t think I’d want to fight nature’s decision that hard with the more invasive procedures. I know others feel differently. That’s cool, but that’s not me. So again, I ask: given how long it’s taking, how old we are, and what might be needed, how far will we go? (That, by the way, is something that only my husband and I can answer, of course.)
What I fucking hate is the uncertainty and hopelessness that we’re now in. Not knowing what’s in store next. Not having even the opportunity to honestly test during any given cycle thanks to my pre-period spotting (game over as soon as I see that). Give me something to work with and I can cope. But give me a crapshoot where my influence is limited and I can’t deal. I’m too logical and cynical for that. I’m too much of a doer for that.
I miss being in blissful ignorance of this kind of heartache. I would rather spend my time thinking about how I’m kicking ass at this exercise thing, or how well my new job is going. Because both of those things are awesomely true, and they mostly dominate my time. It’s very nice to have two things going well and not think, “Well, when X happens, it’ll be better.” It already is. Except when it comes to TTC. When TTC blues hit, they hit hard. There is no way around it.
And because of that, I’m closing comments on this post. I’m asking that you not chime in about this post on another post. It’s one of those moments where I just need to be angry and vent.