Carrying On

I see the new RE in exactly a week- next Tuesday. I'm surprised with how much that is affecting me. One week, and what will this tell me? I don't know.

So many things about infertility are difficult- from the loss of privacy, the financial strain, the emotional drain, the inability to accomplish what should have been easy, having to constantly reorganize your life and your direction... but I think that the hardest part is in the not knowing. Not knowing if it will be worth it, not knowing what is going to happen, not knowing where your journey will take you, when it will end.

Even before we head into it though, we know where it might go, even if that heading changes. I myself am guilty of changing my plans constantly. It's not that I am indecisive, I just don't set plans in stone. In life nothing is guaranteed, except death. If life has other plans for you, then it will win out in the end. That doesn't mean we stop trying though- it just means that sometimes we will win, and sometimes we won't. But, if we don't try... we may miss our chance. So, I keep fighting.

My plans have changed so much in the past three years of marriage. Every roadblock I dissemble where I am going, and lay new tracks. I went from thinking I might have a biological child, to thinking I won't. I went from thinking I could get pregnant and have a baby, to thinking I can't do either. I have planned on injectables, other attempts, and adoption in various forms.

And even though I keep changing how I am going to get there, my destination has never changed. It is my one constant, it is the only thing that keeps me traveling through this endless night.

I have articles at the ready, questions lined up, records faxing, and ideas for our journey poised. I am going in fighting at this consultation, or nothing it all.

Our current plans are set in motion. We will see the new RE, and decide the next step. A few of our options- we ask about Femara, we ask about Clomid and Prednisone, we ask about my leftover injectable medications, and loss prevention. And while we pursue these options, we save up money in the hopes of trying embryo adoption should when those options fail.

We just want to do something in the interim while we pay off some medical bills and save up the money for embryo adoption- we are not counting on these treatments working. If they do work and succeed, great. If not, I will have lost nothing in trying- my heart will not break.

I have realized that I am almost at peace with this. My heart if filled with so much joy at the idea of adoption. Embryo adoption would be awesome for me, because I will not have lost out on pregnancy and birth, should I be lucky. I would not have to mourn that at least. Domestic adoption would be wonderful as well. I would get the life I always dreamed of.

But, I think a small part of me will never stop mourning the lost potential of biological children. I think there will always be a small part of me that wonders whose eyes they would have had, whose hair, whose nose, whose skin complexion, whose smile and laughter.

But, I know that the pain of all that will lessen in time. It has already lessened so much. Because, when I think of an adopted child, I wonder whose laughter they will have, what they will look like, what they will like- and I smile.

At the end of the day, I just want to be a mother.
Screw infertility, I was born for this.