In all my life, or as least for as long as I can remember, I never felt like I would get pregnant by accident, or that I would know what it was like to carry a child. I don't know why, really. Maybe it's because I'm 34, and it seems weird that I haven't ever concieved despite a lot of odds that I would have already. Maybe I've always known that we'd have this problem, and God helped soften the blow by instilling that feeling in me.
Because of that, I have come to understand one thing: For at least the last 10 years, I believe I've been creating my own self fulfilling prophecy by reiterating to myself and others that thought. I believe I have been doing so in order not be disappointed when it didn't happen on it's own. I've spent 10 years, in some way shape or form desperately hoping that it would just happen, so that I would be surprised, so that I would be wrong. I believe that I always hoped for that surprise reaction of "oh my God, I'm pregnant" so that that the next course of life would just systematically figure itself out on its own, and I would be swept away, without having to think about actually making the conscious effort of doing it myself. Maybe that's because I didn't want the disappointment, or I didn't want it to be this hard. I don't really deal well with having to arrive at another of these life changing crossroads on my own accord.
But, like any true self-fulfilling prophecy, I arrived at the beginning of this journey exactly where I didn't want to: having to go through the hard part, having to work through something I didn't want to have to work through, in order to get to the good.
What you don't realize when you make a decision to pursue this whole process is what is really involved. You can't realize at the time how it feels to be thrown into the middle of a tornado that is whipping around you while you try nothing more than to attach yourself to anything that is remotely standing still. Nevermind the endless testing, prodding, stirrups, time off of work, hormones, and scheduling that has to go into it. How could you have actually stopped for a minute to realize that you were supposed to go through a grieving process, or that it was ok to be sad for a little bit. You just start mindlessly going through the motions, doing what you're supposed to do. You forget that for a few years the only thing you really knew about ovulation was based on what you read about mucus and basal temperature, not nearly what you know now, like that your uterine lining looks perfect, and that you have two mature eggs measuring 17 and 19 mm, respectively. It's a wave of sadness that flashes over you when suddenly you realize that there is never going to be that accidental surprise you always hoped to find. The understanding that your period will never just not come that month, or the acceptance that you will never again have to buy a pregnancy test or wonder if you'll get a positive result without the help of a team of doctors and a man you'll never meet manipulating your chances of actually becoming pregnant.
Whatever joy couples who concieve naturally have as part of the process of becoming a parent feels like it's been stripped away, down to a place where all you can wonder is how the hell did I get here? That's what yesterday was like for me.
It was both an incredibly hard moment of realization and a step forward in this journey I'm on.
As for the IUI. Today, I dropped off my swimmers at 1:00 p.m., at MY doctors office, in MY city. Sigh...I felt relief. I went and had lunch at Moby Dick's (chicken and kubideh kabob, shirazi salad, water) and played Solitare on my iPhone while I ate. I then went back to the office to wait for about 20-minutes before my IUI. This time we had 8.3 million sperm after the thaw, with 59% mobility. The doctor (MY doctor), told me it was a great specemin. Comparatively, last time the post thaw was roughly 5M and 6M sperm. The swimmers that launched their greatest competition today, came from a vial that was collected on 3.24.10...my nephews birthday.
Tomorrow is round two, and the dreaded two-week wait. This is the time when you wished that all those medical advances, all that equipment that has been hooked up to your hoo-ha all this time could actually tell you right away if that 20% chance will turn into the rest of your life.
Because of that, I have come to understand one thing: For at least the last 10 years, I believe I've been creating my own self fulfilling prophecy by reiterating to myself and others that thought. I believe I have been doing so in order not be disappointed when it didn't happen on it's own. I've spent 10 years, in some way shape or form desperately hoping that it would just happen, so that I would be surprised, so that I would be wrong. I believe that I always hoped for that surprise reaction of "oh my God, I'm pregnant" so that that the next course of life would just systematically figure itself out on its own, and I would be swept away, without having to think about actually making the conscious effort of doing it myself. Maybe that's because I didn't want the disappointment, or I didn't want it to be this hard. I don't really deal well with having to arrive at another of these life changing crossroads on my own accord.
But, like any true self-fulfilling prophecy, I arrived at the beginning of this journey exactly where I didn't want to: having to go through the hard part, having to work through something I didn't want to have to work through, in order to get to the good.
What you don't realize when you make a decision to pursue this whole process is what is really involved. You can't realize at the time how it feels to be thrown into the middle of a tornado that is whipping around you while you try nothing more than to attach yourself to anything that is remotely standing still. Nevermind the endless testing, prodding, stirrups, time off of work, hormones, and scheduling that has to go into it. How could you have actually stopped for a minute to realize that you were supposed to go through a grieving process, or that it was ok to be sad for a little bit. You just start mindlessly going through the motions, doing what you're supposed to do. You forget that for a few years the only thing you really knew about ovulation was based on what you read about mucus and basal temperature, not nearly what you know now, like that your uterine lining looks perfect, and that you have two mature eggs measuring 17 and 19 mm, respectively. It's a wave of sadness that flashes over you when suddenly you realize that there is never going to be that accidental surprise you always hoped to find. The understanding that your period will never just not come that month, or the acceptance that you will never again have to buy a pregnancy test or wonder if you'll get a positive result without the help of a team of doctors and a man you'll never meet manipulating your chances of actually becoming pregnant.
Whatever joy couples who concieve naturally have as part of the process of becoming a parent feels like it's been stripped away, down to a place where all you can wonder is how the hell did I get here? That's what yesterday was like for me.
It was both an incredibly hard moment of realization and a step forward in this journey I'm on.
As for the IUI. Today, I dropped off my swimmers at 1:00 p.m., at MY doctors office, in MY city. Sigh...I felt relief. I went and had lunch at Moby Dick's (chicken and kubideh kabob, shirazi salad, water) and played Solitare on my iPhone while I ate. I then went back to the office to wait for about 20-minutes before my IUI. This time we had 8.3 million sperm after the thaw, with 59% mobility. The doctor (MY doctor), told me it was a great specemin. Comparatively, last time the post thaw was roughly 5M and 6M sperm. The swimmers that launched their greatest competition today, came from a vial that was collected on 3.24.10...my nephews birthday.
Tomorrow is round two, and the dreaded two-week wait. This is the time when you wished that all those medical advances, all that equipment that has been hooked up to your hoo-ha all this time could actually tell you right away if that 20% chance will turn into the rest of your life.
No comments:
Post a Comment