Since we got the ball rolling on our upcoming IVF in St. Louis, I've been a non-stop talking machine about all things related to IVF and what you ladies have been posting, commenting, experiencing. The only thing is, I blab to DH and nobody else. He is my best friend in the whole world and we're together every waking moment that we aren't at work. When we are working, we email.
On the way to work this morning, I kept talking about the projected dates, when we need to have the money for the IVF bills and meds, how many shots I'll be giving myself, on and on and on. I asked him why he was so quiet and he said he was sick of talking about IVF and he wanted to talk about something else.
Logically, as an obsessed infertile, I was hurt. This is my life. This is what it's come down to. Its a reflection of who I have become and who I have always been. When I take an interest in something, I research the heck out of it. Items I want to buy, movies, books, actors, singers, sports, weddings, babies.... I demand to know every single thing I can learn about my obsession of the moment.
I've wanted a baby since the day I walked down that aisle. I've read books, blogs, journal articles, phamplets, news reports, anything I could get my hands on. I've watched documentaries, video blogs, YouTube videos, movies and how-to videos. I consider myself an expert who is just shy of a licensed physician or Reproductive Endocrinologist. I have never heard of a passive infertile. If you weren't a Type-A before trying to concieve, you will become one. I have been Type-A my whole life. If I couldn't control something, I quit or tried as hard as I could to get what I wanted.
This is the first time in my life that I find myself near the end of a journey that I just knew would result in what I wanted. If you asked me three years ago if I thought I'd need IVF to concieve and carry a baby to term, I'd say no way. Now? I can hardly breathe at the thought that this last chance, this $10,000 dollar hail mary, turning over all control to a doctor hundreds of miles away.....might not work. Or that it could work and we'll lose another baby.
I'm terrified that my mental and emotional state won't survive failure. This effort - this IVF cycle - is the pinnacle of our journey together, of every single day of our marriage, starting with our vows. We don't know what marriage is like without trying to have a baby. What it's like to not live through constant disappointment and terror. Through loss and frustration. Through one person being in another place emotionally than the other. My mind is 100% focused on IVF. Every waking, even every sleeping moment is full of thoughts of "what if"s.
When DH got out of the car this morning, he sensed that I was upset that he said he didn't want to talk about IVF anymore. Not the logistics, the money, the fears or the excitment. He'd said he was sick of it.
He asked me if I was mad at him. I said I wasn't, that I was disappointed and I wouldn't make a day of it. (I tend to hold grudges, sometimes all day. Usually forever with people who wrong me. It's a terrible aspect of my personality). We kissed goodbye and he walked into work.
About 15 minutes ago, he sent me an email asking if I was still mad at him. I said I was not mad, just frustrated. Here is how he responded:
"I know, I am frustrated too not at you or anything, I'm just frustrated at the entire situation and how everything is out of our control and also not a guarantee. I am scared about what could happen and I am so excited to do this, but I just have my doubts and it is really stressing me out, which I am sure it is stressing you out as well."
See? Same thoughts as me. The difference? He keeps them to himself instead of constantly talking about it with me. We are so different yet so the same. He is able to sum up his feelings in three sentences. Is it because he's a man?
When we buy a lottery ticket, we spend our own money on that wish. We know the odds are next to zero that we will win any of that money back. But we still hope. This IVF is our lottery ticket. Instead of a dollar, it will cost $10,000. Probably more than that. What are the odds we'll get pregnant? Over 50%.
I just wish the real lottery had those odds.
Cara Merawat Piano Agar Awet
1 month ago