Move along...

Nothing to see here.

It's been a crazy journey. I still have choices, and well- they all suck. I resent having to make these choices. Mom says I am so lucky to have these options, and I really wish I could see it that way. I don't feel lucky. I feel cheated. I feel fucked over. I feel bludgeoned.

I don't want to be defined by the chances I didn't take, but things are looking pretty bleak to me right now. And I am heartily sick of sending negative crap out into the internet.

So- yeah. I don't know if I will keep updating this. I have good days, and I have bad days, and that's just the way it is. I am sick of people asking if I am OK. I'm not OK, but I can hold it together only as long as nobody shows me sympathy.

I don't want to be stuck with this. I don't want to feel trapped. But I just am. And maybe there's just some kind of spin I can put on it that makes me feel better about my situation, but I don't think this is something that can be lessened by talking to someone. Therapy isn't the answer, and neither are pills. The only thing that seems to blunt the edge is anything that can distract me to the point I can't think about anything else. Maybe time will do the trick, but I have been at this for ten years. TEN YEARS. and it just hurts more, the longer it goes on.

I hate crying in front of people. I hate crying by myself, and actually, I hate crying, period. It's supposed to be some kind of release, and an expression of grief, but it just keeps coming like some kind of bottomless well. And the deeper I get into the well, the darker and murkier everything becomes. I am so overcome with anger and frustration and grief. Right now, I feel like throwing up, and I am convinced that my insides would be black, like tar.
I hate the person I am becoming. I am flaky. I am weepy. I Cannot Deal. I have always been someone who tried to be strong and supportive of everyone else, and I can't seem to be that for myself. I have spent the last couple of months being forced to face every single one of my demons, repeatedly. And I am battered, scarred, and heartsick, but I am still here. I can't exactly call it a victory, but I get out of bed every morning and try to address what needs to be addressed. I would say that is successful maybe 60% of the time.

I am second-guessing myself.  A big part of my anger is directed at that. Which crappy decision can I make? What will make me happy?

Discussions and repercussions

The Man and I were talking last night.

I somehow married someone who has very different political beliefs than I do: which means that, every election year, things get a little heated. Luckily, over time, we both have learned there are just some things neither of us will change our minds about, and there are some things that we are able to compromise about.Going through election season on top of an impending move, business craziness, and all this infertility stuff has been...stressful. And now the holidays are coming! I think our theme song should be "I Will Survive."

Prop 37 was an unexpected shared crusade in our home this year. I was surprised at The Man's vehemence about it, but he explained that he thinks messing with the food supply may be the root of some of our current struggles. Watching my ongoing battles with food sensitivities has convinced him that the Standard American Diet is hurting the U.S. as a country. It's true that undiagnosed gluten intolerance affects fertility. Who knows? Maybe if I had known sooner, we would have changed things up in enough time for me to prevent damage?

And if things as innocuous as wheat and sugar could have that effect, what could GMO's be capable of?

That is the reasoning. And really- why would you take that risk, to feed your family something that isn't absolutely known to be safe? Unless you didn't know it was there.Which most Americans don't.

Anyway. He's convinced, somehow, that all of this will work out. He was talking about how he wants me to teach any kids that we have how to knit, and cook, and sew- regardless of gender. That he wants to raise kids who are able to think for themselves, and are self-sufficient. How he's glad we have figured out how to live healthfully and sustainably- that it is important to him, and any kids we would have would benefit from that too. And this, folks, is why I married him. <3

The fact that he's still worrying about the self-sufficiency of kids we may never be able to have is so inspiring- and frustrating too. I wish I had his faith. All I can think about is my mother, filling our Christmas stockings for one more year: all three of my siblings, still childless in their thirties. I need to get past this, because as I have found in the past, having a meltdown on Christmas morning really freaks everyone out.  

Stayin' Alive

Evidently, I made it through Halloween, Election day, and a bunch of other stuff. It's been a strange, long, teary blur. I haven't had a lot to say about it. What on earth can I say, that hasn't been said already?

I called my sister, and said she should do this for herself, but I didn't feel comfortable putting her in the middle of this mess I am in.  All I want is to get off this roller coaster, and if my sister is involved, who knows if it will ever end? Maybe I will change my mind eventually. But right now, it's just how I feel.

I called the other clinic for a second opinion, and was told that Dr. Charming's diagnosis is correct- I would probably need donor eggs to get pregnant. Oh, and if I want a better chance, I might try losing some weight. Would weight loss lower my AMH or change any of my lab values? I asked. Well- no. But statistically, heavier ladies have a harder time getting pregnant. Maybe I should try eating less fast food.

Thanks, asshole. The last time I ate fast food was...over a year ago? Maybe? I have gotten to the point where I don't even bother trying to explain- it all sounds like lies and excuses to them.  Luckily it was a phone interview, or I would have had to set something on fire.

So now, I am basically stuck. My last hopes of doing this on my own are gone. I am out of options, at least any that I want to consider.  I suppose all I have in the world is time. Even women who are post-menopausal can get pregnant with donor eggs.

I am 37 right now, I'll be 38 in a little over a week, and I just feel like an empty husk.

Break

I just...don't even know what to say.

I've had two weeks to come to terms with things. If a loved one dies, you have what: three days off work? A week? I suppose, depending on your work situation, you could take compassionate leave for longer than that.

I basically spent the first week of post retrieval taking compassionate leave from my life, and spent the second half in denial, and here we are again, at Day One. I am so NOT ready for Day One.

I still don't have an answer back from my sister. At this point, my gut reaction is that she has had three weeks, and if she is still not sure, then it's not a decision she should make: and she therefore has no business getting caught up in this nightmare.I called today, and left a message: basically saying that we were holding up the process for an answer, but if she still wasn't sure, we would need to know ASAP, as a lot of huge decisions hinge on this.

This presents a problem. Do I move forward? With what? I have two months left in the Bay Area. I have called another clinic for a second opinion: while I love my current clinic, I feel like it's a disservice to not at least consider input from someone else. I spent most of the day making phone calls- to see if someone can move up my consult at the new place (no: or not much) , to alert them that it's Day One at my current clinic, to my acupuncturist asking what I should do herb-wise, the aforementioned call to my sister, a few calls to my husband, and another question to my new clinic when they didn't initially call me back within a few hours.

I am now exhausted, and a giant ball of emotion, because of the answers I needed, I got few. I did talk to my doc at the current clinic. I explained that on the basis of one retrieval with no egg, I felt like I wasn't quite ready to accept that the rest of the batch was crappy. I explained that The Man doesn't want to adopt, and refuses any other donor than my sister. We only have two months left in the Bay Area. W have to do this now.

He doesn't want me to cycle this month. He wants me to talk to someone else. He doesn't think I am ready to handle another round- that decisions made under the stress I am under aren't ideal. His contention is that both doctors I mentioned are good, guys he knows, and he wants me to be sure before I move forward. He also made the point that if we go with donor eggs, this buys us time.

I tried explaining that donor eggs from anyone other than my sister are not an option for us, and that going through this process again, with a new clinic, in a new town, was something I really didn't want to do. And if she says no, if it's between my potentially crappy eggs or nothing, I choose my crappy eggs. That we had come here, to this HORRIBLE place, for the express purpose of doing this, and that I didn't think waiting was going to change anything in any positive way.

He doesn't see it the same way. So I guess my decision has been made for me. It doesn't make me feel better. In fact, it makes me feel worse. I won't be able to start up at the new clinic in time to "use" this cycle- and that's if they think I can even manage on my own. It also means that I'll potentially be going through either my last round of IVF or a donor transfer at Christmas time, which is pretty much guaranteed to be extra stressful, if not a total trainwreck, no matter how you slice it.

At this point, my only option is to wait, and/or call the acupuncturist and see what he says: he alluded to some ideas of his, but was unwilling to share his ideas. I guess it's time to get aggressive.

Gratitude

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Tomorrow will mark getting through one week. I feel like my entire perception and worldview has shifted since last Thursday.

While it's been awful, it has also shown me that the last ten years have not been wasted. There are so many wonderful people out there- who have reached out to me and shared their own experiences, and commiserated with me about my personal situation. You ladies rock. 

I may be poor in eggs, but I am rich in friends. ;) That certainly can't be overlooked.

Whew.

I am not kidding when I say that yesterday was awful. I should also clarify that last (horrible) post- While my feelings are valid, this is from my point of view. So all that horrible secret crap that generally lives in your head got spewed out. It is strangely cathartic, to be honest.

And reading it made me realize- I don't want to go through with this without some assurance that I am doing this for the right reasons. And the primary source of a lot of that stress was, of course, that conversation with my husband.

So I printed out the blog entry, and put it on his desk, and when he got home, I asked him to read it. And I asked him to give me an answer. And he said he couldn't. And I said, "Well, if you can't answer this question, then I will no longer be moving forward with starting a family with you."

Cue a long, fraught, awful discussion. The air is now clear. I know where he is coming from, he knows where I am coming from, and I think we both are clear about what sacrifices we are willing to make, and which ones we aren't. The big question: "What if we proceed with this? What if it doesn't work?"

His stance; this is his limit. He doesn't want to move forward with anonymous donor eggs, and doesn't want to adopt. Either we have his biological children, or he doesn't want to have any.

Well- fine. I am not happy with this, but I can hope that if our options run out, he may change his mind. and I do still have options.

Granted, I spoke with my sister last night, and she's now having second thoughts. Understandable, but frustrating. I don't underestimate what she offered.  She is worried that things will be weird (they might be, we would hopefully have a plan in place) and also that she would be jealous: she's not dating anyone, not married, and wouldn't have children outside of marriage. She's also worried that I would be jealous, if she wanted a relationship with any children we would have.

I've thought about it, and honestly, I don't think it would bother me. I expect my brother and my sister to have a close relationship with any children I would have- whether she helped us out or not. The Man and I agreed that we would name her as godmother at the baptism, if that were appropriate- honestly, the same (once again) as I would do if she wasn't involved.

If she takes awhile to make up her mind, we will just do another IVF cycle. Beyond that, if I can find an anonymous donor, maybe I can get The Man to consider it. We're not going to stop trying to have children, even if the donor cycle is successful.  We're lucky: as horrible as this situation is, we both have parents who are in a position to help us shoulder what is looking like an ever-growing financial burden.No it's not ideal, but it's still possible.  I'm 37, for heaven's sake. THIRTY SEVEN. It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings. Or you know, goes through "the change".

I spent most of the weekend grieving, and most of yesterday alternating between hysteria and anger. I feel strangely calm now- probably because there's now a plan, and I have accepted the terms. I didn't cry ONCE today- considering that I spend Thursday on pretty much in a vale of tears, that's definitely a good sign. I finally feel like myself again.

I just wish my sister hadn't offered to help before she thought about the potential repercussions. I certainly understand it: it's some seriously weird, sci-fi style stuff. If she were married and had children of her own, I am sure it would be a different story. All I can do is pray about it and hope for the best- a process that I honestly no longer have much faith in, but hey, I could get lucky.

Promises made, promises broken

I hesitate to post this. It is raw, and awful. I honestly wrote it for my own edification: and knowing there are people who know me IRL who read this: it's some deeply personal stuff, which gives me pause. So. *deep breath*

I am wrestling with acceptance. 

On the surface, this seems so easy. Why am I mourning about it so deeply? And then I probe down in to the heart of it, and it is so twisted and ugly. I know I am shrinking away from the truth: at least how I see it.

I guess I didn’t realize the scope of this until I talked to my BFF on Saturday.  My sister offered her eggs. I honestly wouldn’t want to do this unless that was an option.  I would rather have a baby who is genetically related to me. I am not ready to let go of the idea that I want a baby who looks like me: who is genetically close to me. And I am so touched and humbled that she offered.

What I am wrestling with: I don’t want to go through another horrible disappointment. Is that the only reason I am ready to get so drastic so soon?  I hear my heart quicken with anger every time the doctor brings up donor eggs. I am not emotionally ready for it. But I can’t help thinking that it may be the only chance to have a child of my own. 

But then there is the other option: there was a lot that was “wrong” with this last cycle. The doctor triggered me sooner than usual.  If my age and AMH factors are something he tried to drive home, the thing that he DIDN’T bother to mention: he could have screwed up. OR that mistiming the trigger shot is considered one of the primary contributors to “Empty follicle syndrome”.  And I triggered a few hours late, to avoid the potential for another wasted cycle- since I ovulated early last time, and there was nothing there.

So there’s the feeling that my eggs may not be as old and leathery and haggard as the doc is making out. How would he know? We’ve never managed to get our hands on one. If my egg quality could actually be established as crappy, I would be a lot more likely to move forward with the more extreme alternative. 

The next issue: My parents. God help me, I am so angry with them, because of what happened last time. I got the rug jerked out from under me big time.  Mom keeps saying I can ask for money- whatever it takes.  And a horrible cynical (and probably correct) part of me blows up with fury every time she says this. I know she means well.  I know they want me to be happy. I also know that when we went through this 5-6 years ago: when we didn’t have the money to do this ourselves, but plenty of eggs , I went through 6 IUI’s. When it got to the point of IVF, I asked, and they refused to help.  When I bring this up now, it is presented as a “misunderstanding”, which is the biggest bundle of bullshit I have ever heard. 

At that point, my brother was married. His beautiful, ideal wife turned out to be a raving slut, and they are now divorced.  I feel that my parents thought A. Hey, Jen’s still young, they don’t know WHAT’s wrong: let it ride.  B. Well, there’s no way perfect daughter-in-law will be infertile. We’ll have grandchildren from them in a few years.  And C.  at this point, nobody in their circle of friends had become grandparents yet. They weren’t in a hurry to “keep up with the Joneses.” In the interim of course, their friends (actually named The Joneses) have had five grandchildren.

I am now their only option. So now they want to help me: to throw the lady a rope after I have already drowned, after bloodlessly  watching me sorrowing about this for years and years. Now they want to bet on the dark horse. Yes, I am angry. And you know what? I have every fucking right to be.  I am angry, and resentful. 

 And that brings me to The Man.  I love my husband so much.  If he wasn’t so dead set against it, we would have adopted long ago.  Now of course, we are in this hellhole, so that is not an option.  But even if it were (it should be, hopefully soon), he’s not OK with it. He wants a child that is genetically his. And of course, there is nothing wrong with him, fertility-wise.  I feel like I am robbing him of that chance. And so I am going through this horrible process, again, and again, and every time we come up empty, I see him get more hopeless.  I can understand:  I also want a child who is genetically related to me. But if there were something “wrong” with him, he has explicitly stated that he wouldn’t want the tables turned. He wouldn’t want me to use donor sperm. 

Compound that with the fact that a few months ago: before we jumped back into this: he said that if we couldn’t have a biological child of his together, he would leave me and find someone who could.  He assured me that he would still love me, but that is how badly he wanted this. He couldn’t understand why I found that so devastating.  Wouldn’t I want him to be happy? He told me that his grandfather had done something similar: left his first wife when she couldn’t , or didn’t want to, have children. 

And now he says that I “forced” him to say that. And when pressed, that he "regrets saying it" (but not that he didn't mean it.) Anyone who knows him would be aware that The Man can’t be forced to do anything, and that his entire stance about this is beyond hypocritical.  He would happily subject me to things that he would outright refuse to do. And then rationalize leaving me if they didn’t work. And every time I think of that, I want to hit him with a bat.  Because he knows how much I want this, and how gutted I am each time I fail. The last IVF procedure, I told him on the ride home that he should leave me.  I was so shattered.  And while he comforted me, he didn’t tell me that he wouldn’t leave, either. All he said was, "We're not finished".

 And I have to think that someone who would say something like that to me:  doesn’t deserve me. Because that is not what I would do. I made vows. If it were him, I would stick by his side no matter what.  If that meant living a childless life, so be it: although I would never stop trying to convince him to adopt or take in foster children. Yes, it would kill me, but that would be my approach to it. And knowing he is not willing to make that level of commitment or sacrifice for me sticks in my craw. It twists at my guts, like a knife. 

 I asked him last night, “What if we do donor eggs and it doesn’t work?” and he said we would cross that bridge when we came to it.  And by that he could mean he wanted to stay positive, or that he actually would leave me.  So, right or wrong, I feel like my marriage is contingent upon this procedure.  His words haunt me- they are like a threat, hanging over my head, if I should fail. Do I really want a marriage on those terms? If I am honest with myself, no.  I don’t.  I think he knows, if he came out and said anything point blank, I would tell him to go fuck himself and be gone. 

And then, there’s my sister.  This is where my messed up brain comes into it. I think, “Maybe my kids would have it easier if their biological material came from her. She’s driven in a way I never was. She never had to battle with her weight.  She always took the right path, while I always chose some zig-zag, meandering way.  And this is nothing to do with my sister, whom I love. It has everything to do with sibling rivalry, which is strong in our family.  I hate having to “resort” to my sister’s DNA. But is my nearsighted, slightly obese, occasionally zitty DNA really so wonderful?  I know the odds are that any children I had from her eggs could resemble me as much as they resemble her: or they could look like Mom, or Dad, or someone on The Man’s side of the family. But I feel like it’s just another way in which I am not good enough: the way I have felt about myself as soon as I started to put on weight as a kid. I am in my thirties, almost forty, and still. That horrible feeling of being Not Good Enough is still there, and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.  This obviously compounds that. 

I know I have enough love in my heart for a child I adopted- any child, honestly. My little kindergarteners knew that: every time they asked me to take them home, or said wistfully that I should have babies, because they would be so lucky to have me for a mom...  

I know I am meant to be a mother.  But the lengths I have to go to, and the sacrifices I am having to make are so convoluted, and awful.  I don’t know if I can accept those terms. And it still might not work.

God, this is like torture.