Resignation? Acceptance? What?July 19, 2012 at 10:14 am | Posted in And I ran (I ran so far away), Choosing Happiness., Stuff Outta My Head, The End of Trying | 12 Comments
Yesterday the woman I work for told me she’s pregnant.
Due in December.
I can’t get away from it.
Coming back from a month-long hiatus in running is really, really hard. I’ve managed to shed half of the 10lbs I managed to gain, but I’m still up in weight. It’s been hot and humid here and the air quality is bad enough that it’s hard to breathe.
So I had my first running clinic on Tuesday night. A 2 mile time trial, where, as my coach put it, All you have to do tonight is run two miles as hard as you can.
It was, in a word, awful. 93 degrees at the START at 7pm. Probably a million percent humidity. I was wheezing on my WARM UP, and knew 2 miles was going to suck.
And honestly? I actually quit after 1.5 miles, but an awesome runner from my club told me, Come on, it’s one more lap! Run slow with me.
And then she proceeded to encourage me around the last lap until I was angry enough at myself to sprint to the finish.
I crossed the finish line, my legs wobbly.
And promptly burst into tears. Huge, sobby, wheezy, messy, sweaty tears.
I shouldn’t BE here. I should be pregnant. I should be home, with my feet up, resting, with one of those perfect embryos inside me, working on turning into a baby.
Five minutes later, it was over.
Honestly, I haven’t cried much since getting the BFN. I’ve felt crappy about it, of course. But not in a “I need a good cry” kind of way.
In fact, the overriding feeling I’ve had about everything is that I’m just tired.
Tired of feeling crappy. Tired of the pregnancy announcements hurting. Tired of writing the same old story: I want a baby, we try and it fails and wow it really hurts.
I can’t tell if I’m resigned or accepting of it all.
But what I’m looking at, right now, is the reality that we might invest more time and energy into this process and not end up with a baby.
And really, the question for me is how long I can keep doing this.
Last night I had dinner with Charlie Brown’s cousin. Many years ago, when I was smarting from a year of failed treatments, we were drunk, she and I, at a wedding, and I confessed how awful things were and how much I wanted a baby.
I will never forget her words: Serenity, at least you have a family. A husband. I’d love to be in your place.
She’s single, you see. And older. And I remember feeling shamed by confessing how hard IF was on us, because she was right. At least I had Charlie Brown and a CHANCE for a baby, right?
So I stopped crying on her shoulder. And it wasn’t until last Saturday where I told her our second round of reproductive woes – just that we had been trying again and it wasn’t working, I had a bunch of failed cycles again. I made myself tell her as neutrally as I could, because I wanted to be sensitive to the fact that it is 5 years later and she’s still single. I didn’t want to make it a big deal.
She was amazing. Oh my god, Serenity. I’m SO sorry, she said.
And at dinner?
And she told me that she’s done six IUI with donor sperm cycles for her own baby. And since that didn’t work, she’s moved on to her first IVF cycle.
So not the conversation I expected to have, especially on the heels of hearing my boss’s news.
I tried to say the right things. She WILL make an excellent mother. I really hope it works for her. I would love to see her pregnant, would love to have another baby in the family, would love for her to create her own family. I totally support her decision to go it alone. And I know how hard it is to try and fail, and how strong the need to have a baby is.
But I couldn’t offer her any positivity, any reassurances that IVF might actually work. I could only tell her I hoped it would, and if she DID end up with a baby at the end, it’s completely, 1000% worth it.
Nagging at me is that feeling though.
What if she doesn’t end up with a baby?
What if WE don’t end up with a baby?
Something’s changed for me since last year. Outweighing the desire to HAVE a baby, the grief of not completing our family, is a thought.
I don’t want to waste more time.
I don’t want to wake up in 5 years and regret the fact that I wasn’t really present in my life because I was seeking out something I DIDN’T have.
There’s a line in my favorite running song: I’m holding on to what I haven’t got.
It’s become my biggest fear. That I’ll hang on to this hope that we’ll have a family of four when maybe it won’t happen for us.
And this fear outweighs the fear that I’ll never have another baby.
Does this mean I really AM at the point of acceptance that this is all I’ll have? Am I really close to The End of Trying?
Or am I just resigned to the fact that I no longer have any hope that IVF will work for us?
I don’t really know. It’s something I will be sitting with, though, in the coming weeks.
The thing is, I do believe that maybe we just haven’t found the right embryo yet. Maybe ours are just delicate, and we need to find the one who is strong enough to survive the change from the culture medium to my uterus.
It’s possible one of those 5 embryos in the deep freezer will be the one that makes it so we bring home a live baby.
It’s just that it’s MORE possible, given our history, that we will go through those 5 and end up with nothing.
And I am tired of going through this process and feeling crappy about it. I am tired of hurting when someone else around me is pregnant. I am tired of looking at my life as if there’s something missing.
I am starting to believe that you can, in fact, CHOOSE happiness.
I’m going to try it and see what happens. Stay tuned.
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