It is official, two years have passed. Today is the anniversary of the beginning of the trying to conceive saga.
It was rather an uneventful event in and of it’s self. It had come with several months of me talking and T saying, “Whenever you are ready.” It was the day I stopped taking the Pill and started the pre-natal vitamins. The day, I said to myself, “I’m ready to be a Mom.”
Two years later, there is nothing more I would want to be. Yet, I feel further away from achieving that goal. I’ve sat on trying to obtain secondary insurance. I’ve hit a low with false hope and my body. It could be self preservation, but it seems that I don’t have faith that it will EVER happen biologically. And during this cycle, except that I absolutely HATE active cycles, I simply do not know if I am or not. But with my track record, I seriously doubt it. (I hope I live to eat those words.)
With the fact that T’s car died today (of all days) and we will need to buy a new car in the next few days. I think it may be time to stop and take a break. It seems all the signs are there.
It is time to recharge the batteries. To save some money for trying to conceive since, even with the secondary insurance, it is a daunting financial endeavor. To come to grips that I am anovulatory with PCOS and that for us to have a child it will take more than having intercourse more often. It will take more than Clomid. And I fear more than IUI. Yes, I know that I should have accepted this by now, but I feel like I mourn the situation each time we hit a crossroad in the journey.
With a break, will I be ready to resume in February, probably not, but it will be nice to have a break. To have intercourse, just to have it. To try and loose the 9 pounds that I’ve gained since Christmas. To take a vacation. To escape this madness, this hopelessness, this uncontrollable experience, at least for a little while.
Then I ask myself, will I be OK with others getting pregnant and having children while we wait. I think to myself that this will ALWAYS be the case. It most definitely been the case in the last two years, it will be the case in the future. It is a fact of life, children will be born. And I refused to become bitter because of my body. Again, F*CK my body! I will be happy for them because those babies were meant to be. Not to say, I won’t shed a tear or two or say “how I wish.” But, I will be the PROUD auntie D.
But, it does make my want to escape the holiday season intensify. How I truly want to skip Christmas. It is the time of year, that it becomes evident that our apartment/family is lacking someone. Truthfully, it is the time of year that really hurts. And this year, well, I’m just not looking forward to it. Actually I’m not looking forward to any part of it; shopping with families all around, Santa Clause and all of the children waiting to take their photos, Christmas cards announcing births, the Pregnant Army, etc. Skipping Christmas seems like self preservation at this point.
With all of this said, a break sounds really good at this time too. A break. If only, I could find an island to stay on for the entire six months. To avoid everything baby. (Not to worry, I’m not talking about any of you.) But, it would be nice to avoid all things baby when it comes to me. No more questions. No more admitting of our infertility. No more. At least for 6 months, then we will rethink the situation and go on with the next step of IUI.
Six months seems random. But it isn’t. I’ve decided that December, January, and February would be break months anyway. (My baby sister is getting married next October, I refuse to not make the wedding.) Therefore those were designated as time off anyway. Also, I can partake in flex medical spending account thru my company. It seems like a good idea to get that started before we do the secondary insurance. With all of that said and done, it is also the smart thing to do.
A two year present to myself for this awkward anniversary, a trying to conceive break. So hoping it will be a peaceful six months.