Two things happened on Friday which I knew would converge into It happening.
- I was digging around in my sock drawer (because WHAT IS UP WITH THE COLD WEATHER??? COLD FEET!) and I found my old Follistim case and injection pen, which I stuffed back there a couple years ago after I was done with it. Because I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.
- I was at Carters looking for leggings for Analie and I saw Newborn size PJs. They are so tiny, and she is so big.
I stood there in Carters, holding the tiny PJs and suddenly I felt the old sense of panic and loss creeping up the back of my eyeballs and seeping out my tear ducts that I used to feel when I’d look at baby clothes. And it caught me off guard because – HELLO! I HAVE A BABY NOW! Everything’s fixed!
Right?
Wrong.
I was so glad when my blessed cell phone rang, because it broke me out of a weird and creepy trance. I literally shoved the tiny PJs back on the rack and ran out of Carters in my 3 inch heels and tried to shake off my unexpected gloom, which did not work so I tried to fake it. I think I did a poor job.
That night I dreamed that Joey wanted to do another round of IVF, but since we’re not in Texas anymore and don’t have access to our specialist he figured he’d just do it himself. (Because I guess he took “Rudimentary In Vitro Procedures 101″ in seminary?) He had ordered the drugs off the internet and was going to do all the retrievals and transfers in our kitchen. I woke up feeling seriously gloomy.
And you know what? I have been since then. BOO ON ME.
Analie’s going to be a year old in less than a month. My baby’s growing up, and the reality of not being able to “plan #2″ like normal people is really starting to set in. I know that since we didn’t go through the most painful parts of infertility where we live now, we seem like fertile people because I was pregnant when we moved. But IVF can’t fix what’s wrong with me, and I’m starting to feel the icky temptation to be ANGRY! again about why this had to happen to me. Or, I guess I should say, to US.
It’s a new ballgame to still be primarily infertile after having a baby. It’s confusing for other people and I’m finding that it’s pretty confusing for myself, too. Because sometimes my brain tricks me into thinking that OOH! Maybe I’ll have a baby!
And then I have to remind myself that it took 2 weeks of injections, several doctors, a petri dish and a fully sterile environment to get pregnant in the first place. Not exactly ideal conditions.
So, if any of you infertility bloggers are even stillaround and reading this anymore – hi; I’m back. (Yay??)
For the rest of you? Sorry. It was only a matter of time.
I feel like my challenge on the other side of an IVF pregnancy is to continue to see Analie’s life as an undeserved, precious gift. To resist bitterness. To (try to) encourage those who are walking the lonely road of infertility. To not feel sorry for myself. To find the joy in the circumstances God has given me, even when parts of them seem like the worst thing ever. Times five.
