Saturday, February 21, 2009

Remember when I said I was doing fine?

Yeah...I suppose I spoke too soon. I like to think that for the most part I am handling this with grace and aplomb, but to be honest I am barely keeping it together. I've been unusually busy this week, which has helped distract me from the sucky situation I find myself in, but events happen that make you realize you aren't as resilient as you thought you were.

Case in point: I saw my first pregnant woman since learning we can't have kids of our own. How did I react? Oh you know...between the hyperventilating, sudden faintness, and trying to not begin sobbing hysterically in the middle of a busy store, I was a super fine and sexy. I got out of there as fast as I could and tried to get myself back to normal in the car. I knew this was going to be hard. I had no idea it was going to be this hard. My only hope at this point is that it will get easier because it has to get easier. Nowhere to go but up.

I realize that it is a very difficult situation, not only for us, but for everyone around us who knows. What do you say? I really don't know. Nothing really makes it easier, but when nothing is said I am somehow left feeling even more destitute. I have spent over a year in much more pain than usual trying to get pregnant. If this were a novel, something would have happened. I would have woken up that morning, taken the test and fallen over myself as I saw those two lines. The audience would be relieved and happy because it was a hard journey, but it has come to an end. Unfortunately, I have only months of false hopes, piling medical bills, and a very empty uterus to show for our efforts. I wouldn't be spending mornings on crying jags and the rest of the day hunched over in pain, trying to lift myself into my bed to lay down. Yes, the endometriosis is that bad some days. I guess I am happy to have an answer, but an answer doesn't keep you warm at night, as they say.

Maybe I just haven't been clear enough with our situation. I suppose I could have left a degree of ambiguity about where we stand with regards to treatments. If so, allow me to be more clear. We are done trying have a child. We are out of money, and sick of the emotional turmoil that this all causes. This last IUI was just that, our last. We will not be doing any more any time soon, and probably not ever. There will be no chance for a miracle baby because the endometriosis will force me to use a pseudo-menopausal drug that will shut down my ovaries (not that they need help being under achievers). We have gone from Infertile to Extra Infertile, or something. But how do you explain that to your family? Hell if I know.

I'm disappointed. Disappointed in not being pregnant, of course, but more than that I am disappointed to realize that I can't get through this on my own. I'm not as strong as I had hoped. I'm not as self-sufficient as I thought. I will never be the one that people point to as an example of how to deal gracefully with life's hard times. Instead, I am just one more weak person sniffling in her car because someone else has the audacity to get pregnant when I cannot.

3 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry. And I think explaining things to people may be the hardest part. I guess the non-IF person feels as though he or she HAS to say something helpful - and they'll say ANYTHING. So you say, we're broke, we've done all we can, I need to go back on the endo meds, and they say, "But IVF! There are more options! Don't give up! Science can do wonderful things! Surrogacy!" No help.

    Please get on meds for the endo soon and feel better. Horrible death pains = bad. And please by all means complain to the internets. We'll be here.

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  2. I'm sorry you're hurting. You and I both would like some relief from the endo pain. We're about to go into debt on my next surgery, and haven't even gotten to IVF yet. Ugh.
    It would be nice if there were a pregnancy-free zone, so we could just run to the Post Office or the bank without worrying about ending up a basket-case. If only...

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  3. Hey, those people who appear to deal gracefully, it's just an appearance. They go home, close the door and bawl really hard with tears and snot running everywhere just like the rest of us. Your situation sucks, maybe more than almost anything in the whole world. I, too, say go on the meds and get pain-free. I don't know if this is helpful or not. I had the endometriosus surgery followed by half a year of the chemical Lupron menopause, then continuous non-cycling OCPs, then actually had a kid 5 years later without the help of a repro endo. Of course now I can't have another kid almost 5 years later, had a second surgery a year ago and my OB/GYN said she wishes she had done a hysterectomy instead of taking out a tube only because my insides are so rotten. Lucky me, I have some wierdo high pain tolerance, so I don't even know when my insides are getting screwed up. So this month will likely be our last attempt at IVF. We are starting applications for adopting. Come to find out, you can be too old to adopt a baby and I think we just passed the age. Keep the number 42 in mind if you've thought about this option. And, BTW seeing all those pregnant women does suck. They're everywhere, like a sick joke. If I were an old crotchety grandma I'd be shakin' my fist at 'em.

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