So, I was sitting at work, and one of buddies walks by and asks if I want to go out for lunch. I pause, as I have serious weight to lose in the next few months, and going out to eat is hard. Then he mentions that his wife and 6 month old daughter will be joining us. And I think - Oh! Baby! But in the end, turn him down in favor of my 'oh so yummy' Lean Pocket freezer lunch.
But it made me think... in general, I classify myself as a pretty happy, upbeat, optimistic person. I approached motherhood and the process of TTC with excitement. When things didn't go as planned, and we needed to start going to doctors, I would calculate out 9 months from the IUI and think cheerfully about what season the would be, and what handknitted items my little babe would wear. I even started knitting many cute little baby things to have ready. At this point, I would happily talk to anyone about baby-making - I would consider their advice (eating pineapple in the 2WW, charting my temps, going to hypnotherapy and acupuncture). I knew that we were having some more trouble conceiving than most, but it didn't worry me.
Then we had the ectopic. I will freely admit, I went a bit crazy at this point. At first, just the blow from being SO happy to being SO sad was more than I had ever experienced before (and trust me, my life hasn't been all peaches and cream). And then, thanks to lingering HCG levels, I bet - I went totally insane. I thought if only the bathroom that the baby would be using (you know, like 2 years or more from when it was born) would be 'redone' I'd get pregnant again (and proceeded to rip all of the wallpaper off the walls). I become convinced that Aaron was regretting ever marrying me, because I couldn't make babies. Or if I DID actually make one - it was in the exact wrong place. And I proceeded to have a complete meltdown in a Home Depot parking lot (where we had gone to get supplies to fix up the bathroom I had ruined)... and all I have to say is thank god for Aaron. The look of total love and concern in his face made me realize that we were in this together, and for the long haul (as sucky as that haul may be).
Am I a bitter infertile? I don't like to think so - as I hate to even classify myself as 'infertile'. Bitter - possibly. As a matter of fact, I think those people on the pregnancy and infertility boards can take there 'baby dust' and shove it.
I think my friend Cate described it best - I'm at the point where hope hurts.
I want to allow myself in the 2 ww to get excited about the possibility of a BFP. I want to look for 'symptoms' and carefully watch my temps and line up the HPTs to test on 10 DPO. But after 24 months of failure, I have trouble rallying the excitement. I want to knit some more baby items, but into my mind there is the little nagging thought - what will I do with this stuff if we never get pregnant?
I want to get excited for this new IVF adventure. But I'm scared also. I'm nervous I won't be able to lose the weight and the doc will cancel everything. I read all of the stories of the people with unexplained infertilty that nothing works for (and manage to push out the stories of those that get pregnant with twins on their first round). Aaron and I have decided to not share this journey with any family - because his mother is BRUTAL about needing to know everything that is going on with EVERYTHING, and honestly, I can't take it. I'll talk about it when I want to talk about it (which is often), but there are times when I just can't.
And there are times when I just can't go to lunch with a friend and his beautiful 6 month old baby. Because hope hurts.