For Now.December 13, 2012 at 9:07 am | Posted in And I ran (I ran so far away), Career angst, Crazy Talk (aka: Therapy), Heartbreak, Infertility, Moving On., Pregnancy Loss | 14 Comments
I held my new nephew last night. Twice; once so that my SIL could finish her dinner before she went to feed him, where he vacillated between tired and hungry, in and out of sleep, searching my arm for food.
The second time, after she fed him, sleepy and cuddly, his mouth open in a perfect O.
Oh, he’s so gorgeous. So little. So dark (just like Lucky was). So sleepy. So cuddly.
I looked up at Charlie, who was watching me, and we exchanged looks of shared pain.
This is so fucking hard.
I’ve been thinking about other options ever since meeting with my RE. Okay, so she thinks my uterus might be
completely jacked up presenting a problem for implantation.
Surgery COULD be an option, but she does not feel like it’s worth it to attempt. And frankly, I agree with her.
What about surrogacy? Adoption?
My feelings about our options are incredibly mixed, and I can’t sort through them enough to come to any sort of resolution on them.
And right now Charlie isn’t really open to either one, though I am reading into our discussions that he’s mixed as well. I suppose if I pushed the issue we’d both come to a decision that we’re okay with.
I didn’t think it was possible to have less hope than I did before going into this last cycle. But apparently it IS possible to have negative hope. Anti-hope.
I might have better handled a chromosomal issue with the embryo. Since meeting with my doctor, though, I have been struggling.
I know there are no FACTS, that my doctor could only theorize, why we’re not getting pregnant. But you need to understand, I have had questions for so long as to the REASON why our cycles keep failing.
We have gone through nearly 20 embryos over the years. And that’s nearly twenty BEAUTIFUL embryos: the ones that were rated highest by my clinic.
I have felt for years now that my body actively tries NOT to be pregnant. I felt, when pregnant with Lucky, that I had slipped one in under the radar. I was never comfortable, not for one DAY, when I was pregnant. It felt unnatural; he was breech and stuck in my rib.
And then, the two times I’ve gotten pregnant since: miscarriage.
So to hear that my doctor believes that my uterus has some hand in all this Fail… well, honestly, I think she’s right. I FEEL like she’s right. I’ve known, felt, believed this for years now.
And I don’t have the words to describe the utter loathing I feel about my body as a whole, feeling this.
I have a hard time putting the reasons why into words. But it has to do with the fact that my body cannot perform one of the most basic biological tasks of humankind – nuturing a human.
And that’s why running, right now, is not a salve for this ache. Because it’s not the same.
Running marathons will not change the fact that my body is not made for making babies.
Last week, when I went to pick Lucky up from school, there was a large sheet of paper on the wall, where they usually put their class projects and decoration for the seasons. It was a classification chart.
The question was: How many people are in your family?
The buckets for classification were simple: 3, 4, and 5.
The most kids were in the 4 Bucket – 8 or 10 kids wrote their names there. There were a few kids who had written their names in the 5 Bucket.
Lucky was the only one in the 3 category.
It was unexpected, a punch to my soul. I couldn’t breathe for a moment, and I fantasized about pulling the sheet down and ripping it up.
But I wanted to know how HE felt about it. So on the way out, I pointed it out and asked about it.
And he said, Mommy, I really, really wanted everyone to say ‘Three!’ like me. I wanted the number 3 to win.
I told him that he did win, because he was the only kid who had three in his family, that he was special. And I asked him, Did you know that three is a lucky number?
He hadn’t known that.
I hadn’t heard his teacher coming up the stairs, so when we turned the corner, she was there. And she told Lucky, Did you know that I have three in my family too?
It’s awful, but my first thought was, For now.
I know her son is young: 3.
For now, I’m trying to get out of bed every morning, do my work, parent my almost 5 year old, be a good wife, keep things going with Charlie is traveling.
For now, I’m hopelessly behind on Christmas cards and present-wrapping and making sure that we’re bought for everyone we need to buy for. Oh, and bills, too.
For now, I’m trying to focus on my training program and race schedule for next year and snatch some Zen in the moments where I find them on my runs.
For now, I’m trying to survive this awfulness, the babylust that holds me prisoner, the ache of wanting a sleeping bundle in my arms, catching the scent of baby in my dreams.
For now, I’m just trying to get through one day at a time.
One hour at a time, one moment even.
That’s why I haven’t been posting. Because who really wants to hear my pain? How many times can you all, my readers, comment, I am so sorry, Serenity?
And truly. How many times have I written these same goddamn posts over the years, the longing, the frustration, the pain, the body loathing?
It’s the same fucking story, over and over and over.
And over, for good measure.
Except it’s NOT over.
It’ll never be over.
I am so tired of pain, of longing, of this story. I want off this goddamn ride, where I go from hope to fear to pain to hopelessness to even more hopelessness.
I want this to end. I want to be DONE, I want to move on. I want this pit inside me to be full of the things I DO have, the love that I have in my life.
I loathe this empty yawning ache, and I cannot be rid of it.