moving on. or, how did i get here?Posted: April 3, 2010
You see, this is how it is: infertility is rough. It eats up at the edges of who you think you are and sticks long, brittle poles into your being. You have to walk very, very carefully after those poles are in there. Those fuckers are brittle and will shatter at the least provocation. And you thought you knew who you were. Ha. I’d like to be all new-age-y and shit and say how I’ve “grown as a person” and that this “journey” is a “gift” that has brought out the “better parts” of my “true self.” But we all know that’s some bullshit. It’s just been ugly and has made me uglier.
Disappointment is a bummer. And it’s the lifeblood of the infertility world. You’d think it was hope that kept us all going, but nope. You’d be wrong. We continue because the disappointment is so damn disappointing. Hope, on the other hand is the brick wall you keep banging your head into until there’s a nice dent in both the wall and your head. And here I was, hoping my best self would rise to the occasion and provide some much needed grace. Oh, well, as the kids say.
And it gets old. Talking about your bitter brittleness. For real, nobody wants to hear it anymore. Not even yourself. Disappointment is so god damn boring. Can’t we talk about something else?
(Although, clearly, I can’t talk about much else, if you notice just how little I’ve had to say of late. I wanted to tell you about the injectables cycle this fall and how it almost broke me, literally and figuratively. About the cycles missed on account of holidays. About how even with femara, home inseams are just not working. About how I am on the far side of 35. I wanted to tell you all those things. But didn’t, or couldn’t, or something.)
So, yeah. I’m going for an appointment to talk about IVF in a couple weeks. I’m just tired. Five years in and I am just fucking tired. Of disappointment and bitterness and waiting. It’s time to bring in the big guns or throw in the towel.