…and make it all okay overnight. Or in an hour, for that matter. I had a second session with my IF counselor (Dr. S) last night, and while I certainly feel better, I don’t necessarily have all the answers. If anything, I’m left with more questions and pathways for dialogue with my husband.
I find myself in a position where only one of us can be truly happy right now. If we pursued donor IVF right now, we would do so at the sacrifice of Larry’s readiness. If we wait and stick with our timeline (May of 2011), then we sacrifice some of my emotional stamina in the process. And unfortunately, there is no middle ground, no 50-50 compromise that satisfies both our needs and desires simultaneously. And seeing as how Larry is starting his own company in a matter of weeks, it would probably be pretty silly to blow our savings on IVF right now.
But the yearning – I like the way my counselor described it last night- the yearning is so constant. And she articulated a feeling I’ve had for months at this point: I see pregnancy and childbirth not so much as a necessity, or a measure of “keeping up with the Joneses.” For me, pregnancy and birth are about healing.
I see them as rights to a fundamental wrong. I see a big round belly not as a competitive commodity, like another engagement ring or a wedding dress – rather, I see it as the bandage, the salve on a deep wound.
If I knew, for a fact, that in May of 2011 we’d go the IVF route and bam! it would work no problem, that 9 months from then I’d come home with a child to call our own, I think I’d be able to manage my feelings, this yearning a little bit better. I think my sense of urgency comes from the fact of NOT knowing this.
Donor recruitment could take longer than expected. Blastocysts might not make it to Day 5. Emryos don’t stick. I could miscarry because of my Hashi’s. It is terrifying to think of all the ways this is simply not guaranteed. And when Larry gets so fixated on our timeline, it frustrates me because I see so many variables that could throw off the entire plan by not just a couple of months, but by entire years.
For now, all I can do is manage my feelings as best as I can, and realize that yes, I am still grieving and that no it doesn’t necessarily get any easier, but I have an amazing husband and a great support network of friends and family, and that perhaps, I should fill my time a little more. Dive into work a bit more. Get even more excited about our 2-week trip to Japan next week. Maybe finish that California scrapbook I started months ago.
Dr. S even suggested that I should start looking around at donors or clinics. It’s not like I’m setting something in stone, just researching. Getting a feel for the eventual process that we’ll both engage in.
And part of me is like, hm good idea! And another part of me sees that as giving up hope, like I’m admitting defeat. Dr. S said the grieving doesn’t even really kick in that hard until couples pick a donor, because the woman feels as though she’s selecting her “replacement.”
I think of it like a Polaroid picture fading out – the image of a child that’s half me, half Larry – fading away. And I’m just not at a place to let go of that image. All the books and advice out there says to write a letter to the child that will never be, and I’m just not at a place to do that yet. Like I said, I feel like it’s giving up; I’ve been a fighter all my life and this is no different.
Dr. S pointed out something interesting, that kind of took me by surprise. If Larry called my bluff right now, and said, “Yes! Let’s do it. Let’s go ahead with everything, right now” …would I do it? I was taken aback by this, and honestly I don’t know. I think I might hem and haw for a little bit, wrestling all of the uncomfortable emotions that come with committing to a process like this, but I’d dive in. Well, that’s what I tell myself. I really don’t know how I’d react to that kind of calling out.
So for now, I get sad, and I let myself sit with the sadness. Pull up the iPod, put on a little Michael Giacchino LOST or UP soundtracks, maybe some Radiohead (True Love Waits and Videotape get me every time), or even a little classical. Sometimes I get very hopeful and think about the future 10 years from now, and I savor that optimism. Sometimes I get really scared and I face those fears for as long as I can stand it at the moment: maybe a few minutes, maybe a few seconds.
I am so blessed to have a husband who gets my need for all of these emotions, and who will cry with me, smile and laugh with me, and hold me when I get scared.
I just take it all a day at a time, because really, I can’t do any more than that right now.
Reading this puts me in the moment when I was facing the same decisions. It really helps that you are both on the same page.
It is a tough image to let go of. But in doing so there is freedom.
This post really hits home the logistical, economical and emotional challenges people face with infertility. Especially when you are diagnosed so young! The choices are so difficult to deal with. The situation is fraught with complex issues, like money, partner readiness and job security. Thank you for being so honest about what this was and is like.
Here from Time Warp. What a powerful post. My heart just aches for this Keiko, and for now Keiko.
It is so hard when two people in a relationship want different things – and yes wanting the same thing, but at different times, qualifies – is so hard. Like you said, either way, one person is unhappy.
In our case it was both of us. I had to wait much longer than I wanted and he had to start sooner than he felt ready. And now, we’re both dwelling in the consequences.
I know what you mean about the uncertainty. That was my big reason for wanting to start sooner rather than later. It is the very reason I’m feeling so torn about waiting to try for number 2. What is we can’t get pregnant again? What is we have a loss? What if we have many losses? What if by the time we have a successful pregnancy Isa is 5 years old? What then? The uncertainty drives me crazy. I just want to be doing it so I know how it will end.
Except now there is another possibility. What is we have a healthy baby relatively quickly and the pressure of two kids splits us apart irrevocably? What if the cry of a newborn and the screams of a toddler are our death knell? Because that possibility suddenly seems far more probably than all the worst case scenarios I can dream up in my head.
I can only imagine how hard it must waiting when you have even more variables to overcome. I really cannot imagine. I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this waiting and uncertainty. I also hope you are healed by a healthy pregnancy and beautiful baby.
PS Did you ever write that letter? To the biological baby that could never be? I’d love to read it if you did.
Here from Time Warp… What a raw and inspiring post Keiko! If I haven’t told you before, I just love the way you write. You are so open and honest and have such a beautiful way with words.
This part really spoke to me:
“For now, all I can do is manage my feelings as best as I can, and realize that yes, I am still grieving and that no it doesn’t necessarily get any easier…”
Taking life one day at a time is all any of us can do and that is such wise advise.
Thank you for sharing the link to this older and very wise post of yours for Time Warp this week. I am so glad that you decided to participate!