Saturday, May 2, 2015

Limbo

Yesterday, we took H to the library for story time. My husband (who works from home) wanted to go too, because they were doing a special tour of the conveyor belt book return system and, well, he's a guy and likes such things.

On our way downstairs for the tour, there was a gaggle of moms talking about how wild the boys in the class were, and how one of them should know because she has three of them. You can imagine where the conversation went. She should have another! She'd get her girl! Oh she hadn't decided on a fourth yet.

Decided. A fourth child. A question of will, not of chance. Not of daring and struggling or pain and suffering.

R and I met eyes. I explained later that I encounter some form of that conversation at least once daily. He shrugged his shoulders as he does. What can we do? That's how it is for most people.

I'm tired, guys. I'm just tired of it all. Tired of waiting, and wondering. Tired of still wanting something that's so hard. Tired of this horrible position I'm in, of having the first half of what I want in the freezer, and a horribly unclear and difficult path ahead for the second half -- yet no alternative. What can I do? Let them go? It's impossible. I have to do it. And I'm terrified.

Mostly, what scares me at this moment is that the clinic will say yes to the truly lovely potential surrogate we've found, whose records they are reviewing. And we will go down this path with her and spend all the money and then something will happen -- she won't get pregnant, or she will and we'll bring her into our reproductive den of doom. And then we'll have less money and still no baby.

That line of thought leads me to adoption. From there, I'm with the embryos, and knowing for sure that if we adopt it will bring us joy but also horrible pain over letting those embryos go. And possibly regret, and possibly some low-lying resentment toward the adopted child. Which obviously cannot be allowed to happen. Around and around we go.

And then I wish we didn't have the embryos. And then, horrible guilt over that thought. Then anger over being in this terrible predicament with no one to bail us out. With nothing to do but keep going and take the risk.

When I look at H and feel a sense of loss over the early childhood/pre-school years I can see evaporating before my eyes, I don't know if I should feel hopeful that we might do it again, or if I should cling more closely to this time, because it's the only experience of it we'll have. The answer is probably both, but the way I experience it is pure and painful limbo.


4 comments:

Turia said...

Oh hun. It is so hard.

Honestly, one of the reasons I am scared to do another IVF is the prospect of ending up with frosties. I feel like I can handle the one shot fresh transfer, but not the forced continuation of limbo with anything left over. I'm like you- if they're there, it would be impossible not to give them their chance.

Thinking of you. I wish your path was easier.
xoxo

Turia said...

Oh hun. It is so hard.

Honestly, one of the reasons I am scared to do another IVF is the prospect of ending up with frosties. I feel like I can handle the one shot fresh transfer, but not the forced continuation of limbo with anything left over. I'm like you- if they're there, it would be impossible not to give them their chance.

Thinking of you. I wish your path was easier.
xoxo

Caroline said...

I absolutely understand and empathize with the fears and the "what if's" but hope you can cling to the thought that what if it all goes well? And man, I sure hope it does.

Heather Wilson said...

So sorry you are going through this. I hope you get the answer you are searching for and can find peace in your decision. I completely understand with all your fears. We never had any frozen ones left over from our IVF attempts, so we didn't have to make those decisions. Hugs xoxo

 
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