“What on God’s green earth is this crawling brass disaster, Ezekiel?” Brandy exclaimed as soon as she stepped through the front door. “Don’t tell me it lives here now!”
Ezekiel practically tumbled down the stairs in his haste to show off his newest acquisition. “Mom! Isn’t it awesome?”
She couldn’t help but smile at the joy and pride in his tone of voice, in spite of her own horror and disgust. It might be a statue of a pig; at least, it might once have been. Whatever it was, it had been spot welded and modified to within an inch of its life. “You went yard saling this morning, didn’t you, Ezekiel?”
He hung his head in contrition. “Yes, Mom. I know I’m not supposed to go by myself anymore, but just look!” The grin crept back to his face.”Mr. Parks over on Cherry Street found it in his attic and his wife said she wasn’t having it in her house so he didn’t even make me pay for it because nobody else wanted to touch it! I’m gonna name it Seymour.”
Brandy shook her head with resignation. “Name it whatever you want, but it stays in your room. I’m going to put these groceries up. Tacos sound good for dinner?”
I don’t talk about this much anymore, but we struggled with infertility for ten years.
I have PCOS. I menstruate maybe annually on my own. Usually I have to take progesterone to give the lady bits a kickstart.
But in December and February, it just happened. December was no big deal, because it had been a few months. Whatevs.
But last month I cried.
Because I didn’t know how to react.
What’s going on?
Has my body decided to be healthy?
What if I get pregnant?
I cried because I didn’t know how to feel about the possibility of fertility. I cried because I thought we were done with this. I cried because I thought the roller coaster was over. I cried because I had convinced myself that I did not want to parent.
We do fucked up things to our minds when faced with the harshest realities of life, when we realize that in spite of what we’ve always been told, we can’t do or be anything we want just because we want it.
But it was only during that first rush of confusion that I questioned, that I believed the lies that I had talked myself into believing.
I do want to parent, but at the same time, I do love the life we have now, for the most part. It was the sudden flip-flopping of everything that I thought I knew that hurt me so much. And in a way, I appreciate that flip-flopping; it’s just another thing that has helped me be present in my life and be conscious of my own innermost feelings.
And now I understand that I can welcome being childless as much as I once dreamed of parenting. Not just because it’s safe and familiar, but also because I know that I have the capacity to be mindful and simply enjoy today.
Except on the days that I can’t, but I’ve learned that it’s okay to have those days too.
Any day can be a good day on its own merits.
You know what? I do feel better today, and I will go forth and spread the love as soon as I publish this post. I actually feel somewhat like my old self again. Granted, it’s just the slightly-less-depressed old self of a few weeks ago, but any improvement is welcome.
To celebrate, a post that isn’t mopey or whining about my immediate situation!
I just read Keiko’s post about the possibility of parenting twins, with a side note about gender preference. Since I even had a discussion about twins with a friend of mine this morning, I thought I’d delve into my feelings about it.
I’ll just dive right in. I would love to have twins. I already stay home (mostly), so we wouldn’t be sacrificing an income to keep them out of daycare. We could clothe them and feed their gaping maws.
Plus, y’know, it’d be one for each of us, so we wouldn’t have to share, just swap out when we got bored. And I can’t even imagine the schemes my husband would come up with for telling them apart if they’re identical. Trust me, hilarity would ensue.
Mostly, though, after six years of trying, I just don’t have it in me to keep going and going. I think about it, and I know I can’t do this much longer. Any successful pregnancy would be happily ever after, The End. Twins would just be icing on the cake.
And if we get more than two at once, my mom said we’re always welcome to come live in her six bedroom house where she only has one child left in the nest. Then we’d just have to worry about alligators eating our babies…
Now, as to gender preference, I would like a boy. But I don’t know if I could handle two boys. I never considered that part of having twins, although most of the name pairings we throw out there for fun are masculine.
It’s fun to speculate, though, right?
The new year is coming soon, and it’s also time for us to start a new chapter in our TTC story. It’s CD21 today, so the plan right now is basically just looking at the calendar to decide when we want to throw some more money at this whole infertility thing. Then I’ll start a round of provera so I can try letrozole next cycle.
It’s kind of funny, I plan and plot so much when and how and what the next step will be, but I never actually think about what would happen if something worked. Surely, if I had no faith at all that something would work, I wouldn’t put myself through this. Surely, if I had no hope at all, I would stop trying. Right?
I don’t know. I really don’t. I know this is easy to say now, but if we were childfree, I would be okay with being childfree. But we’re not. And being a part-time mom just makes me want even more to be a full-time mom. I don’t want to share. I feel like that sounds horribly selfish, but I don’t care.
I really do not understand at all how my mother could send my sister and I across the country every year for the whole summer. Especially after that summer she came to pick us up and our toothbrushes were still packed. My dad was not a big hygiene enforcer. Heck, he didn’t even tell us to bathe, hopefully just because we swam so much.
I’m way off subject.
Anyway…I have an OB/GYN who will prescribe me letrozole, and then tamoxifen if that doesn’t work. Maybe I’ll go back to the women’s clinic when (if) they replace the RE who abandoned me. Still debating on filing a complaint with the state Board of Review over that debacle. Either way, 2012 is covered.
And then I’ll be 35.
Maybe that’ll be the cutoff. Maybe we’ll see how this next year goes and decide from there. I’m so tired of the waiting.
Six years is a long time.