Passing the time-

Well, I have one week left of birth control pills. I'm considering stopping them a few days early, but I would feel guilty if I stopped early and the cyst was still there. But the rational part of my mind is saying that a few days isn't going to make a difference if it still is.

I'm really hoping that sucker is gone. I've never had that happen on a natural "cycle." My body doesn't usually do anything on a natural cycle, not ovulate, and certainly not get a cyst. I mean, I get little classic PCOS cysts... but nothing this major.

I do worry. I mean it should be gone, it shouldn't be an issue. But what if it's still there? I really don't want to think about it. Another month of BCP, possibly another laproscopy? Ack. It should be gone though.

I hesitate to look for my sharps container. I didn't dig it out before last appointment, which was just as well since I couldn't use it. I have trouble believing I'll need it this time. My body is so stupid.

I want to do this cycle, but part of me just feels like the universe is screaming STOP at me. I mean, a cyst? Really?! I reached a place awhile back where I pretty much assume now that it's just not going to happen this way. My eggs, and his sperm, are just not the right combination. I mean, even on the rare occasions they connect... it still leads to failure. I suppose it's just as well that this is our last cycle for a very long time.

I can't help but hope, although I hate it. I don't want to hope. I don't want to think about it. I want to let it go, all of it. I just can't. Part of me hopes this final cycle will be lucky, that I'll get pregnant and this time we'll have a living child. That part of me is so stupid. We're at war. See, that hope is just wishful thinking. Most of me is based here in the cold reality of my life: almost 4 years, 3 miscarriages, no living children. The odds aren't in my favor, and don't I know it. I've hoped so much in all these years, and I've gotten so little in return. Why should now be any different?

I feel defeated. We've fought a long hard battle, we even won small squirmishes here and there... but we've lost the war.

In a couple of weeks, it will officially be 4 years. Not 3 years and 11 months like it is now. It will be 4 years. 4 years of love, 4 years of hope, 4 years of pain, 4 years of hell. It'd be fitting if we're able to go through this coming cycle, if we don't get sidelined again. Our last cycle, possible forever, on our 4 year anniversary. If. Who knows if we'll even be able to.

And of course, now I worry about what's going to happen to me when we do stop. I stopped for like three months and I get a giant cyst... I never had to worry about monitoring my PCOS before infertility. I didn't even know I had it. Now I'll have to make the decision to risk more cysts and stay off BCPs... or to go on them and hopefully prevent them... and also give up all hope of pregnancy. Really, the choice is simple. I go on BCPs. I don't have to live with hope, I don't have to live in fear. That's what I want, right? But to close that chapter... to live knowing that there's no chance at all while we save money and research options? It's what's best, I know, but it's hard to think about. I just spent 4 years trying... to knowingly prevent, willingly prevent... it goes against everything I've wanted all this time.

I have so much to think about, so much to process. And we're just waiting to do this damn cycle, this final hurrah. I don't count on it working, but how I would love it to. I just don't feel like it's in the cards.

One more week.

Until then, I'm just passing the time. I'm probably not doing it in the best manner either... I'm crocheting baby blankets for pregnant family members. It keeps my hands busy, which is good. But it certainly doesn't take my mind off things, does it?