Monday, November 23, 2009

Oh the places we WON'T go.

*First of all, I so appreciate all of the comments and support. It means the world to me. Secondly, I'll probably be writing a LOT here, because I write to process. That doesn't mean you have to keep reading and/or commenting. I know my story gets tired and old. Believe me, I know.



I'm in the anger stage. Full on, bonafide PISSED.

At everyone.

One thing is painfully clear, there are now a whole list of places I won't be going. And yes, I'm staying on the meds and rechecking, but let's be real. My Saturday day HPT was positive. One of my Sunday HPTs was positive--the same brand as Saturday's. That was the Target knock off FRER, which has been known to detect Hcg as low as 12.5, but now I'm thinking 9 as well. So what was it picking up on Saturday? Likely a slightly higher Hcg, which was then caught on its way down on Sunday. Plus, the only symptom I was having at all--vague light-headedness--has disappeared.

So here's a quick list: (I'm too tired to write it Seussian style)

An OB/GYN's for an actual OB appointment. Just gyn for me.

A maternity clothes store.

An ultrasound visit.

A baby store to register for newborn things.

A tour of a labor and delivery unit with nervous anticipation.

A parking space in one of those fucking "expectant mom's" spots. Nope, not me.

The list could go on and on and on...



Mr. LC is, predictably, my rock. He has not fallen apart yet, maybe he won't. All I know is that somehow yesterday our laundry was done and put away, the kitchen was cleaned, I was fed, my lab coat was ironed, and I had a lunch made this morning. And all I remember doing was bawling my brains out yesterday, leaning into him so tightly I could scarcely breathe. And now the irrational fears that something will happen to him are starting...if I lose him, I lose myself.

I looked at him yesterday and said "As long as it's just you and me here in the house, I can survive."

But the world--out there, hell, even here--is a scary place. There are fertiles and former-infertiles-with success everywhere. The percentage of people like us--who have failed and failed and failed and failed and failed--is low. We are not normal, and we are very much alone in most ways. With every failure at a biological child, our sense of separateness from the majority of the world grows. We do not feel like waves in the ocean with our fellow humans, we feel like freaks who cannot attain the most natural of goals.

I am sick of it. I want to run away, but can anyone tell me where to go? I want to quit my job, sell our house, and move far away where no one knows us. Where we aren't pitied. Where people don't secretly thank God they aren't us. Because I know it's true. I know my friends look at their beautiful children and thank their lucky stars they aren't us. Who could blame them?

I am pissed. I did everything right. I was healthy. My body has utterly betrayed me yet again. And today I sit, seeing patient after patient, my hollow urgings to get them to take better care of themselves, and they aren't even willing to lift a finger. I'm on autopilot today.

This morning I looked at my dogs. They're perplexed right now. Why so many tears? Why so much sadness in our house? They don't understand. What happened to the happy-happy-joy-joy that was all day Saturday?

They want it back. I do too. I want to reverse time and stare at that positive HPT--to feel content and joyous like that--for the rest of my life. I can't even bear to throw them away, my little reminders of something that will never be mine.

Three surgeries.

Two months of induced menopause.

Hundreds of shots.

Nearly $80,000.

More vaginal ultrasounds than anyone should endure.

Two endometrial biopsies.

Three months of no sugar and gag-inducing protein shakes.

Six months of acupuncture.

Two trips out of state.

Five in vitro cycles.



The final result: 9.



Universe: You win.

20 comments:

  1. There's nothing to say. You're right, the universe has it completely and utterly wrong. And I wish I could change it.

    You have every right to be pissed. At EVERYONE.

    I hope that Tuesday's draw is the last.

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  2. You should be pissed. I'm fucking pissed too. What the hell? WHY? I HATE this, I HATE infertility, I HATE that the most deserving of people to become parents are not getting to do that. Fuck.

    And just so you know, I don't secretly thank God I am not you. I am just dumbfounded why it is you and not any of us? We certainly don't deserve it more. Why should one person (two people- Mr. LC included) bear the brunt of this cruelty? I want what you want and knowing you don't have that makes moments bitter because, again, WHY?

    I HATE that there is not a damn thing I can do about it.
    I HATE that fucking The Secret book.
    I HATE that the happy-happy-joy-joy was just a day and not a lifetime.

    Be angry. At everyone and at me too. I would be. It's the complete and utter unfairness of it all.

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  3. I am crying as I write this post. I have been following your blog for awhile now. I feel your pain like it was my own! We have been going through this nightmare for 10 LOOONNNNG YEARS NOW.I don't know how old you are but I am 46 and my husband is 44. We used a donor for the obvious reason. We lucked out and ended up with 13 healthy embryos. We went through invitro with MYSELF....IT DIDN'T WORK. So on the advice of my infertility doc......we found a surrogate......with a proven track record of two sets of twins and a singleton. We went through two IVF cycles with her. Out of thirteen embryos...... we have nothing. We get left behind from our families AND FRIENDS because......we have no children. It's an emptiness that NOBODY can understand.....just the people who have gone through this nightmare. You are not alone......I've been told by my sister......my "friend"......my brother........ "YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY DO TO DO THIS"....."You should be use to it now"......."GIVE IT UP"...............We will never......never.... never.... never..... give up!!!! And you don't either.

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  4. So I was sobbing not even a quarter way through your post. I can relate to your words and feelings so much and am taken right back to our own "first few days after...". It just hurts so fucking much. I'm sorry you are in this place and am here to listen as you process it all. I can assure you I have had all the thoughts even if they never made it on my own blog.

    I hate this for you. Hate that you are facing this or feeling any of it at all. I so wish I could sit right next to you IRL...to listen, to cry, to just sit with quiet understanding...

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  5. "The percentage of people like us--who have failed and failed and failed and failed and failed--is low."

    You are so NOT alone. There are others of us out here just like you. With you. Here. Grieving with you. Raging with you.

    I'm so sorry.

    mo

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  6. I have never met you, and yet, I'm sitting here crying for you as I read this. The pure raw emotion that I can feel you were going through, and how Mr. LC got everything ready for you. So much love in that house, and it's so unfair.
    I know what you mean about dogs sensing the sadness. They are worried for you too.
    I'm so very sorry. This is so unfair, and I would be mad at all of us formal infertiles right now too. IT just makes sense right now - you need to be angry!

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  7. If you weren't angry, I would think something was wrong with you. I just wanted to let you know that you and Mr. LC are two of my favoritest people in the world. I can't think of two other people who I'd like to be with.

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  8. I'm sitting in Panera with my husband staring at me wondering what the fuck is wrong with me while crying as I read your post and text with B. I'm so freaking fucking sorry. More than words can express.

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  9. My heart aches for you. I wish there was something I could say to make it better, or even easier for you. There are just no words for shit like this. A week ago DH and I were celebrating FINALLY seeing those two elusive lines and a day later we were both fighting the urge to drop off the face of the earth. You have every right to be angry at the world right now, fertiles and former fertiles alike. I'm agry on your behalf. This is so freaking unfair.

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  10. You have more than earned the right to be full on, stinking angry with the whole entire universe and I completely understand. If you weren't angry, I would wonder what was wrong with you because this kind of injustice, this kind of lopsided unequality is so awful. And the worst part - there is no one with whom you can register a complaint with or even sue. You did everything right and you were so careful with all aspects of your treatment...why is it not finally your chance? Why is this not your turn? I don't get it. You are two of the most deserving people who have worked so *damn* hard for this. There is no expression that is adequate enough but I am truly very sorry and my heart is just hurting for you right now.

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  11. I've read your blog for the first time after clicking through from Gracie In Brooklyn's blog - even though I don't know you, I recognise the raw world-hatred and almost insurmountable sense of injustice that my wife and I went through for so many years of trying.

    That feeling of being life's outsiders, almost looking in on everyone else's happiness from behind an inpenetrable glass wall, is horrible. It feel like life is literally passing you by - you're flailing in the quicksand of purgatory as couples zip by on their moving walkway towards familial bliss. I understand everything you're going through and can only send my heartfelt sympathies and best wishes.

    Do stick with it - lean on your partner and let him take as much of the strain as he can. My wife had the same nightmares, of me dying or disappearing, but having seen what she's gone through for us, I couldn't leave her any more than I could cut out my own heart. And I'm sure Mr LC feels the same.

    Good luck and take immense care of yourself.

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  12. I just want you to know I'm here and I'll keep reading and I'm sorry and I think you are fantastic and I'll never get tired of reading about your feelings....

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  13. I am pissed off for you too. Thinking of you.

    Lisa - meinsideout

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  14. You are not alone. I know it feels like it, because you're surrounded by 'normal' people who can have children without even trying, but you're in good company. My DH and I have gone through 8 IVF's, $100K and 17 months ago we lost our baby at 38 weeks - just 12 days before her due date. We also feel like freaks of nature and are constantly stuggling to make sense of the shitty had we've been dealt. Please feel free to visit my blog and talk if you need to. I am here for you.

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  15. I can't say anything that hasn't been said better than everyone before me...
    I'm hurting for you too. I'm angry for you too.
    I'm so, so sorry.

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  16. I'm so so sorry! It's just not fair!

    But know that you are not alone. We are right there with you. My DH and I know exactly what you and Mr. L are going through. Exactly.

    I'm here for you, and if there is anything that I can do to help you, I will be happy to. Please just ask. And please keep writing. Many of your readers, including me will keep reading and will continue to be there for you.

    I'm sorry that everything sucks so bad right now. I wish there was a way to make things better.

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  17. You have every right to be angry at everyone and everything because it doesn't make sense why things have to be the way that they are for you and Mr LC. I am so angry for the hurt and pain that you are feeling- now and throughout your journey. And I absolutely do not thank God that I am not in your shoes. I ask God why and I ask him to present you guys with your intended path so that maybe all of this will somehow make sense. Because right now I just do not get it!

    I am here supporting you in whatever capacity you need and won't be going anywhere...

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  18. I'm crying as I read this. I'm pissed off too. I am here, wishing I could help. I'm so sorry.

    Melissa

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  19. I can't stop thinking about you. I am just so sad, mad and heart broken for you. I soooo wanted for us to be pg buddies. I don't understand why this didn't work, you put so much into it and you so deserved this. Life is definitely unfair. I wish I had the ability to make it all right. I don't. I'm sad that you will feel separated from me. I'm sad that my success will (unintentionally) hurt you. I feel guilty. But I understand and I will be here for you without expecting anything in return. Love and Hugs!

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