Another BFN on the HPT last night. Got up early this morning, let Kaitlin give me my heparin shot, took my meds, and went to the doctor's office for the blood draw. Just waiting to get the results this afternoon so that I can stop taking the medication. I have never wanted confirmation of a BFN more than I do right now. I know that we failed. But I wish I was wrong, so badly, that I am desperate for that piece of paper that tells me I can stop going through the motions. Stop taking the medication, stop wondering about every little twinge, stop worrying about cold medicine and coffee and alcohol and just get on with my still-childless life.
I don't remember the other BFNs being this hard. I don't remember being in this much pain while at work even during the miscarriage... probably because in that case, I took days off through the worst of it. I don't feel like I deserve days off for just another BFN. It's not like my life is over. I'm not even physically as uncomfortable as I am during a normal AF. I just feel a whole lot of nothing. A whole lot of empty. My emotions are on overdrive because of the estrogen, and I can't wait to be able to stop taking it.
My heart is so broken. I feel so broken. Thirty thousand dollars later, we are no closer to having a baby in our arms than we were when we started. I am tired and bitter and more sad than I know how to put into words. I don't know how to give up on this. Yet I don't know how I can keep going, either. How do people do this? How do they get through years and years of this? How do they AFFORD it?
All I want right now is retail therapy. After months of scrimping and saving and forgoing every little thing I wanted in order to add pennies to our TTC savings account, all I want is to buy anything that seems like it might make me feel better. And it's probably the worst and most self-destructive thing I can do, because money is what makes the TTC journey go round. I'm going to be paying off the debt we're already in for the next ten years, and we didn't even get a baby out of it.
Today is a sucktacular day, and all I can think about is getting to that test result - just a few more hours now, I can make it that long, right? - so that I can go home, hate my life, drink a bottle of wine, cry until I can't think anymore, and wake up tomorrow without meds, without injections, without hope. Right now the greatest happiness available to me will be hopelessness. At least if there's no hope, it doesn't hurt so much.
So I realize that writing all of this out, the fact that this is the way my heart really feels, the fact that this is, I guess, the whiny, bitter, self-centered person I actually am, is pretty revealing, isn't it? I don't like the person that I am right now. I don't want to be this negative. I don't want to be this angry. I don't want to be such a diva about things that aren't going right in my life. After all, the world doesn't revolve around me. And I should be spending this time caring for other people's problems and sadness instead of wallowing in my own. One of the girls at the RE's office today called me a "trooper." I wanted to hug her and punch her at the same time. It's nice that someone might think of me that way, but I know it's a lie. Because I'm not trooping, I'm drowning in self-pity and failure and pain and jealousy and anger and tears.
I want to be a strong person, a courageous person who faces disappointment with love and kindness and selflessness and grace, but I'm not. I'm tapped out, I've got nothing left. Today it's all about surviving through the next ten seconds. And then the next ten seconds. And then the next. Until life has moved on enough that I can move on too.
So.
Once I get the results I'm not waiting for the Greek clinic to tell me to stop the meds, I'm just stopping. When I send them the results, I'll ask them for another Lupron prescription, so that I can order the meds again - it will take a month or more to get them so I might as well get them ordered now. That will be another $537. I'll also ask her to tell me how long they would recommend I wait before trying again, and how much their fee will be for a third attempt. Then I spend the next couple of weekends selling everything possible on Ebay and Craigslist. I avoid driving anywhere I don't have to drive, I eat as little as possible and avoid grocery shopping for as long as possible. I don't buy anything else for my little doll or sewing supplies. When I get my next royalty check the whole thing goes into the TTC savings account. I just literally don't spend ANYTHING, don't buy ANYTHING, that is not absolutely necessary. I avoid seeing my family, especially my pregnant SIL, as much as humanly possible - which is going to be really difficult over the summer, since that's the time when we all have birthdays and get together monthly, and I don't know how I'm going to get out of all of them.
And maybe, just MAYBE, we'll be able to take another stab at this in July or August. It will be the last. If it doesn't work... It will be a year before I can even begin to hope to have enough money to do anything else. Of course, I keep saying that, and as soon as failure strikes I seem to come up with another way to find money. I suppose a fourth try could go entirely on a credit card, but that just seems really stupid. Though adoption fees... If I spent money on an adoption and home study before the end of this year, I think I could get it all pretty much back in taxes next year. So maybe that's what we'll have to do... try one more IVF, and if it doesn't work, sign up with an adoption agency, charge the whole fee to a credit card, then write it off on taxes so that we get it refunded... and wait to see if there's any birth mother out there who will choose us.
Funny, how all the IVF bloggers I've found and followed never really seem to talk much about the money part of their attempts. Maybe they have insurance covering them, or have a partner who's footing the bills, or someone lending it to them, I don't know. But I don't have any of that, and it's maybe the biggest stressor of this entire process, worse even than the hormones and the injections and the TWW.
And the only thing that keeps me going right now is knowing that if we ever DO get a baby out of all of this, it will all suddenly seem more than worth it. It would be something I would do over again without question, if I KNEW the outcome was going to be eventual success. But right now we're in that uncertain limbo where never-succeeding is still a very real possibility, and then all of this is going to be the biggest waste, the biggest losing bet, of my life.
Break's over. Have to get started on some actual work now... the last thing I need is to get fired on top of everything else.
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
IVF#2 11DP5DT - Still negative
Got another BFN last night and didn't even bother testing this morning. I'll probably test once more tonight but I know there isn't much point. Also, the Greek clinic hasn't sent me the letter I need to even have the blood beta tomorrow. I've asked for it three times. So I'm going to have to ask the doctor himself, because I can't actually even be seen by my doctor without it, and I can't stop taking the meds until the Greek clinic says so, and I really don't want to do any more injections.
Kaitlin and I are talking about pulling out all the stops... and by that I mean maxing out the HELOC and selling everything we possibly can and maybe floating the rest on a credit card... for one more shot over the summer. And if that doesn't work, I don't think we have any hope of getting pregnant. We can't afford to keep throwing money at this, at $8000 a pop. We may have to look into adoption - but I don't know if we'll have the money for it for a long time.
I'm going to work late tonight so that I don't have to go have dinner with my family. I just can't sit there with my pregnant SIL and pretend like I'm okay. I kind of don't want to see her, at least not for a little while... at least until I feel like I'll be able to do it without my heart shredding with envy and self-loathing.
Never in a million years, when we started this a year and a half ago, did I imagine it was going to come to this. I never thought I'd pour this much money and heart and time and physical bodily strain and stress into something and still come out of it as empty handed as when we began. Never did I imagine that I wouldn't be the first to give my parents a grandchild. It never occurred to me that we would actually FAIL. I guess I always thought at some point, somewhere down the line, we WOULD have a baby... we just had to keep trying.
But you can't make something happen just by trying. This is one of those times when the cheery "if you believe, you can achieve!!!" bullshit is exactly that. No amount of believing is going to give us a baby. Only money. Money, and luck. And even when I've been able to scrape one together, the other continues to ignore me.
Kaitlin's going to ask her Mom today to try and find out how serious this acquaintance of hers is about adoption. We would do it in a HEARTBEAT if she's serious, but it's such a delicate, uncertain thing that it doesn't seem possible it's going to pan out.
Anyway. That's where life is today. Empty, tapped out, and tired. But maybe we've got one more round in us. Just one...
Kaitlin and I are talking about pulling out all the stops... and by that I mean maxing out the HELOC and selling everything we possibly can and maybe floating the rest on a credit card... for one more shot over the summer. And if that doesn't work, I don't think we have any hope of getting pregnant. We can't afford to keep throwing money at this, at $8000 a pop. We may have to look into adoption - but I don't know if we'll have the money for it for a long time.
I'm going to work late tonight so that I don't have to go have dinner with my family. I just can't sit there with my pregnant SIL and pretend like I'm okay. I kind of don't want to see her, at least not for a little while... at least until I feel like I'll be able to do it without my heart shredding with envy and self-loathing.
Never in a million years, when we started this a year and a half ago, did I imagine it was going to come to this. I never thought I'd pour this much money and heart and time and physical bodily strain and stress into something and still come out of it as empty handed as when we began. Never did I imagine that I wouldn't be the first to give my parents a grandchild. It never occurred to me that we would actually FAIL. I guess I always thought at some point, somewhere down the line, we WOULD have a baby... we just had to keep trying.
But you can't make something happen just by trying. This is one of those times when the cheery "if you believe, you can achieve!!!" bullshit is exactly that. No amount of believing is going to give us a baby. Only money. Money, and luck. And even when I've been able to scrape one together, the other continues to ignore me.
Kaitlin's going to ask her Mom today to try and find out how serious this acquaintance of hers is about adoption. We would do it in a HEARTBEAT if she's serious, but it's such a delicate, uncertain thing that it doesn't seem possible it's going to pan out.
Anyway. That's where life is today. Empty, tapped out, and tired. But maybe we've got one more round in us. Just one...
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
IVF#2 CD14 - Name Change and Other Developments
I was supposed to get an email from my new IVF coordinator today with instructions about Estrogen (and hopefully some idea of the dates I have to be in Greece) but didn't hear anything. Sent an email, but won't get a reply until probably early tomorrow morning because of the time difference. Here's hoping she gets in touch and we don't have another stressful period of silence...
I went to the bank today and finalized the transfer of 4800 Euro to the Greek clinic. Also hoping everything goes smoothly and that the 4800 is accepted, since that's what they originally quoted me.
I finally, finally got my IRS background check back for my name change. You know, the paperwork I started right after I got my BFP in December. So I took a long lunch yesterday and went to the county courthouse, about 20 minutes and 20 miles from work, to file the paperwork. Got it filed and paid my $120, only to be told that the judges were on lunch and if I wanted to wait, I could get it signed. I couldn't wait, because I had a meeting at work I had to get back to. They said okay, if I could get back by 4:30 I could get it signed then.
Drove back to work, went to the meeting. Left the meeting a little early so I'd have time to drive BACK to the courthouse, where first the lady told me the judges had closed at 4, then the other lady said she might be able to squeeze me in. Sat there for about 15 minutes and the court clerk called me upstairs - judge signed my petition. They set a review hearing for 5/22, so I have to go back then to have the final order issued.
Drove home with my paperwork, ready to send it off to the publisher in order to meet the 3-weeks-of-published-notice requirement. Realized when I got home that they gave me only one of the two documents I need. So now I have to find another day when I can either come in late or leave early so that I can go back to the courthouse, pick up the second document, and fulfill the publication requirement before I leave the country. Ugh. Really annoyed, because it means a lot of gas and time away from work, and the courthouse is only open during the times I'm supposed to be at work.
In the meantime, I got a phone call yesterday morning that my sister-in-law is pregnant. She and my brother have only been trying for about 6 months. And while I am happy for them - I truly am - and I know they're super excited and they deserve to be, I had to retreat into my own space for a while to process. Twenty five grand we've spent on this. Pills, injections, more doctors' visits than I can count, being probed and stabbed over and over again. Flights and hotel and wiring money and ordering meds overseas and traveling halfway around the world... finally, FINALLY getting pregnant only to lose the baby... and we're no closer to our baby now than we were fifteen months ago when we started all this. Yet after six months, my brother and his wife get pregnant, easy as that.
I know the world isn't always fair. I know that just because we're struggling with infertility doesn't mean the rest of the world should have to. And I don't wish this awfulness and stress on anybody. But it does make me rage at the universe, a little. I want a baby so badly. I feel, though I know it's ridiculous and irrelevant, that surely we've "earned" pregnancy by now. Surely it should be our "turn". Surely the world should be more fair than this.
I wish I was a stronger person. I wish I was a bigger person. I wish I was graceful and kind and loving and generous and selfless. I want to be joyful and patient through all of this, to just sit back and enjoy the adventure, the mystery, the anticipation, the exotic foreign travel. Yet I'm mad, and I don't even have anyone to be mad AT.
But there is a silver lining. If this next round works my SIL and I can be pregnancy buddies... we can share our experiences throughout the stages of pregnancy, and have our babies at almost the same time, and end up with cousins super close in age. That would make for a fun time at family gatherings, since they'd have automatic playmates. I might even allow myself to believe, if this next round is successful, that that's how it was meant to be.... that maybe the REASON I miscarried, the reason we've had to wait so long, is because fate always meant for us to have babies at the same time.
It's just really hard to keep up hope right now. I'm so afraid of hoping. I'm so afraid of giving up. I'm so tired, tired, tired of the nonstop uncertainty. I'm afraid that all this fear is going to keep me from getting pregnant, in and of itself. Getting pregnant was supposed to be fun. Changing my name was supposed to be fun (it's high time I got rid of my ex's last name and moved on with my life.) Having my next book published was supposed to be fun, but somehow I think my skin has gotten thinner, because every negative comment is getting to me and they never used to before. Not good. You can't be any sort of creative professional and be that sensitive.
My self-confidence is taking such a beating these last few days, and I just want to curl up and hide until it's over. I need something good to happen. I need some success to come at me and reassure me that I don't suck as a human being. Of course, I'd be more than content to continue to let the world keep beating me up in exchange for a sticky BFP this time. I could take anything the world throws at me with a happy heart, if only I could just get pregnant again and get to keep it.
If I hadn't lost my baby, I'd be at nineteen weeks or so right now. Almost halfway there. It's hard to imagine. Is it normal that the more time goes by, the MORE you miss a baby that you were barely even pregnant with?
Anyway, I can't think about that for too long or I start crying again. Forward. Have to think forward. I will be in Greece in a week and a half or so. I'll have days to myself to loaf around a hotel, hopefully swim in a pool, read books, write, surf the internet, SLEEP - whatever I want. We have another chance, when I didn't think that we would for a long time. And nothing I do can change fate. I follow my med protocol, I get my butt to Greece, I show up to get my embryos, I stay healthy and hydrated and nutriented and restful. That's all I can do. The rest is just a roll of the dice and a prayer.
I went to the bank today and finalized the transfer of 4800 Euro to the Greek clinic. Also hoping everything goes smoothly and that the 4800 is accepted, since that's what they originally quoted me.
I finally, finally got my IRS background check back for my name change. You know, the paperwork I started right after I got my BFP in December. So I took a long lunch yesterday and went to the county courthouse, about 20 minutes and 20 miles from work, to file the paperwork. Got it filed and paid my $120, only to be told that the judges were on lunch and if I wanted to wait, I could get it signed. I couldn't wait, because I had a meeting at work I had to get back to. They said okay, if I could get back by 4:30 I could get it signed then.
Drove back to work, went to the meeting. Left the meeting a little early so I'd have time to drive BACK to the courthouse, where first the lady told me the judges had closed at 4, then the other lady said she might be able to squeeze me in. Sat there for about 15 minutes and the court clerk called me upstairs - judge signed my petition. They set a review hearing for 5/22, so I have to go back then to have the final order issued.
Drove home with my paperwork, ready to send it off to the publisher in order to meet the 3-weeks-of-published-notice requirement. Realized when I got home that they gave me only one of the two documents I need. So now I have to find another day when I can either come in late or leave early so that I can go back to the courthouse, pick up the second document, and fulfill the publication requirement before I leave the country. Ugh. Really annoyed, because it means a lot of gas and time away from work, and the courthouse is only open during the times I'm supposed to be at work.
In the meantime, I got a phone call yesterday morning that my sister-in-law is pregnant. She and my brother have only been trying for about 6 months. And while I am happy for them - I truly am - and I know they're super excited and they deserve to be, I had to retreat into my own space for a while to process. Twenty five grand we've spent on this. Pills, injections, more doctors' visits than I can count, being probed and stabbed over and over again. Flights and hotel and wiring money and ordering meds overseas and traveling halfway around the world... finally, FINALLY getting pregnant only to lose the baby... and we're no closer to our baby now than we were fifteen months ago when we started all this. Yet after six months, my brother and his wife get pregnant, easy as that.
I know the world isn't always fair. I know that just because we're struggling with infertility doesn't mean the rest of the world should have to. And I don't wish this awfulness and stress on anybody. But it does make me rage at the universe, a little. I want a baby so badly. I feel, though I know it's ridiculous and irrelevant, that surely we've "earned" pregnancy by now. Surely it should be our "turn". Surely the world should be more fair than this.
I wish I was a stronger person. I wish I was a bigger person. I wish I was graceful and kind and loving and generous and selfless. I want to be joyful and patient through all of this, to just sit back and enjoy the adventure, the mystery, the anticipation, the exotic foreign travel. Yet I'm mad, and I don't even have anyone to be mad AT.
But there is a silver lining. If this next round works my SIL and I can be pregnancy buddies... we can share our experiences throughout the stages of pregnancy, and have our babies at almost the same time, and end up with cousins super close in age. That would make for a fun time at family gatherings, since they'd have automatic playmates. I might even allow myself to believe, if this next round is successful, that that's how it was meant to be.... that maybe the REASON I miscarried, the reason we've had to wait so long, is because fate always meant for us to have babies at the same time.
It's just really hard to keep up hope right now. I'm so afraid of hoping. I'm so afraid of giving up. I'm so tired, tired, tired of the nonstop uncertainty. I'm afraid that all this fear is going to keep me from getting pregnant, in and of itself. Getting pregnant was supposed to be fun. Changing my name was supposed to be fun (it's high time I got rid of my ex's last name and moved on with my life.) Having my next book published was supposed to be fun, but somehow I think my skin has gotten thinner, because every negative comment is getting to me and they never used to before. Not good. You can't be any sort of creative professional and be that sensitive.
My self-confidence is taking such a beating these last few days, and I just want to curl up and hide until it's over. I need something good to happen. I need some success to come at me and reassure me that I don't suck as a human being. Of course, I'd be more than content to continue to let the world keep beating me up in exchange for a sticky BFP this time. I could take anything the world throws at me with a happy heart, if only I could just get pregnant again and get to keep it.
If I hadn't lost my baby, I'd be at nineteen weeks or so right now. Almost halfway there. It's hard to imagine. Is it normal that the more time goes by, the MORE you miss a baby that you were barely even pregnant with?
Anyway, I can't think about that for too long or I start crying again. Forward. Have to think forward. I will be in Greece in a week and a half or so. I'll have days to myself to loaf around a hotel, hopefully swim in a pool, read books, write, surf the internet, SLEEP - whatever I want. We have another chance, when I didn't think that we would for a long time. And nothing I do can change fate. I follow my med protocol, I get my butt to Greece, I show up to get my embryos, I stay healthy and hydrated and nutriented and restful. That's all I can do. The rest is just a roll of the dice and a prayer.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Maybe
My insomnia didn't take very long to come back... I didn't fall asleep at all last night. I am woozy and exhausted today. I finished my page proofs and emailed them in; also verified that my next book's cover and release date were launched on my publisher's website, so I'm finally able to announce them on my FB page. Took care of that this morning.
But I've realized that every book release I've ever had has occurred during a time of chaos in my life, a time when I didn't have the emotional energy to commit to promotion or psyching up my readers or anything else. And it's happening again this time. The book comes out in March... a while back I had made a long checklist of action items I was going to do in order to promote it - website updates, contests, surveys, some promotional giveaway items, a launch party and so on. Now I'm depressed. And I know that sounds stupid, but the joy just isn't there. I want it to be, but it feels hollow. Writing is the one dream that I have actually achieved in my life, the only one that hasn't been taken away from me. Yet I want a baby so much more that the whole book thing doesn't feel exciting, just tiresome. A big responsibility, that I had wanted to tackle with brightness and energy this time around, and instead just feels like a poor substitute for what I really wanted.
I was going to announce my pregnancy right around the book release date. March was going to be one of the most awesome months of my entire life. Now, I'll be lucky if I get to spend some of it in Greece, trying again.
I've been lying in bed for hours now, unable to sleep. Finished my page proofs super early this morning, so next on the list is house cleaning. There's tons to do. Kaitlin asked me to do one thing in particular, while she's out taking her PLACE exams today, and I can't remember what it was. And I don't want to lie in bed anymore, but I also don't feel like cleaning. I know, intrinsically, that if I force myself to do it I might feel a little better. Maybe I would feel like we were moving on. Like I'm hitting the reset button on life, getting to the acceptance phase of this whole grief process, and getting over it. It's not like there's any other choice. And that's what makes me angry, I guess, not having any other choices.
A clean house would be a start. But some part of me resents it, doesn't want to pack away Christmas and straighten the house and try to get back into life again, when it's not the life I wanted. Some part of me wants to sit and be angry. Some part of me is furious that I don't have the option to reject this, to declare it unacceptable, to wave a magic wand and be pregnant through sheer force of will. And that part of me is sitting sullenly in bed. As if, by boycotting life until it gives me what I want, I can somehow make the universe feel sorry for being so mean to me. Like some sort of whiny victim who imagines herself the Gandhi of miscarriage.
It doesn't get much more self-centered than that, does it? And if that's the attitude I'm going to have, my misery is self-inflicted and I don't have the right to complain.
Not sure which stage of grief you'd call this. Pretty sure Anger, mostly because Denial's not an option. Probably going to skip over Bargaining, because... well, I've got nothing to bargain with. And Depression's in there too. May even get worse BECAUSE I have to clean the house, and go back to work, and focus on money and my cycles and all of that again. And I have the uncomfortable feeling I'm not going to be able to achieve Acceptance until we are actually able to launch another round, and that it may be contingent on whether or not a second round is successful.
I am afraid of expecting too much from a second try. Google seems to think that a person is more fertile after miscarriage. That statistically I am unlikely to miscarry twice in a row. I find myself starting to feel pretty damn entitled - OF COURSE I will get pregnant right away on our next try, and OF COURSE I will get to keep it then, because I have most certainly earned it by now, right? I keep having to remind myself there's the chance I'll go back and not get pregnant at all. Or go back, get pregnant, and miscarry again. Not everybody gets a happy ending. And then what? How many times can I do this before the money runs out? Before I'm so deep in debt it will take me the rest of my career to pay it off? And what if I do get pregnant, after saddling us and our future child with so much debt that all the things I dreamed of being able to do with and for our child are now impossible?
I "what if" things to death. Right now March is my beacon of hope. We won't get to try in January. If I'm lucky this bleeding will stop soon and my HcG will zero out on its own. Then we have to skip February while I file my taxes and wait for an AF to come and go. And then, maybe, if those things will happen quickly enough, maybe we can take our next try in March. And maybe, if that goes right this time, I will still have a baby by Christmas. Maybe.
Or maybe I will be deleting this blog and giving up.
But I've realized that every book release I've ever had has occurred during a time of chaos in my life, a time when I didn't have the emotional energy to commit to promotion or psyching up my readers or anything else. And it's happening again this time. The book comes out in March... a while back I had made a long checklist of action items I was going to do in order to promote it - website updates, contests, surveys, some promotional giveaway items, a launch party and so on. Now I'm depressed. And I know that sounds stupid, but the joy just isn't there. I want it to be, but it feels hollow. Writing is the one dream that I have actually achieved in my life, the only one that hasn't been taken away from me. Yet I want a baby so much more that the whole book thing doesn't feel exciting, just tiresome. A big responsibility, that I had wanted to tackle with brightness and energy this time around, and instead just feels like a poor substitute for what I really wanted.
I was going to announce my pregnancy right around the book release date. March was going to be one of the most awesome months of my entire life. Now, I'll be lucky if I get to spend some of it in Greece, trying again.
I've been lying in bed for hours now, unable to sleep. Finished my page proofs super early this morning, so next on the list is house cleaning. There's tons to do. Kaitlin asked me to do one thing in particular, while she's out taking her PLACE exams today, and I can't remember what it was. And I don't want to lie in bed anymore, but I also don't feel like cleaning. I know, intrinsically, that if I force myself to do it I might feel a little better. Maybe I would feel like we were moving on. Like I'm hitting the reset button on life, getting to the acceptance phase of this whole grief process, and getting over it. It's not like there's any other choice. And that's what makes me angry, I guess, not having any other choices.
A clean house would be a start. But some part of me resents it, doesn't want to pack away Christmas and straighten the house and try to get back into life again, when it's not the life I wanted. Some part of me wants to sit and be angry. Some part of me is furious that I don't have the option to reject this, to declare it unacceptable, to wave a magic wand and be pregnant through sheer force of will. And that part of me is sitting sullenly in bed. As if, by boycotting life until it gives me what I want, I can somehow make the universe feel sorry for being so mean to me. Like some sort of whiny victim who imagines herself the Gandhi of miscarriage.
It doesn't get much more self-centered than that, does it? And if that's the attitude I'm going to have, my misery is self-inflicted and I don't have the right to complain.
Not sure which stage of grief you'd call this. Pretty sure Anger, mostly because Denial's not an option. Probably going to skip over Bargaining, because... well, I've got nothing to bargain with. And Depression's in there too. May even get worse BECAUSE I have to clean the house, and go back to work, and focus on money and my cycles and all of that again. And I have the uncomfortable feeling I'm not going to be able to achieve Acceptance until we are actually able to launch another round, and that it may be contingent on whether or not a second round is successful.
I am afraid of expecting too much from a second try. Google seems to think that a person is more fertile after miscarriage. That statistically I am unlikely to miscarry twice in a row. I find myself starting to feel pretty damn entitled - OF COURSE I will get pregnant right away on our next try, and OF COURSE I will get to keep it then, because I have most certainly earned it by now, right? I keep having to remind myself there's the chance I'll go back and not get pregnant at all. Or go back, get pregnant, and miscarry again. Not everybody gets a happy ending. And then what? How many times can I do this before the money runs out? Before I'm so deep in debt it will take me the rest of my career to pay it off? And what if I do get pregnant, after saddling us and our future child with so much debt that all the things I dreamed of being able to do with and for our child are now impossible?
I "what if" things to death. Right now March is my beacon of hope. We won't get to try in January. If I'm lucky this bleeding will stop soon and my HcG will zero out on its own. Then we have to skip February while I file my taxes and wait for an AF to come and go. And then, maybe, if those things will happen quickly enough, maybe we can take our next try in March. And maybe, if that goes right this time, I will still have a baby by Christmas. Maybe.
Or maybe I will be deleting this blog and giving up.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
My heart hurts so much
And I am afraid to sleep. Not so much of the dreams... I'm drunk enough to avoid those.... But of waking up and remembering that this wasn't a nightmare. It's real, my baby is gone. All I have left to wake up for is the hope that we might try again. And that will be ten thousand dollars, please.
Hope is a spiteful bitch.
I hurt.
Somebody please give me my baby back.
Hope is a spiteful bitch.
I hurt.
Somebody please give me my baby back.
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