I have been tagged by the incomparable Rebeccah at http://chasingachild.typepad.com/thejourney/ (Rebeccah studied for the bar exam while undergoing her second IVF and took the bar while sick. My hero.) Here are the rules:
Step 1. Reference back to the blog that sent you.
Step 2. Make a list of 5 things that you have to get done this week, no matter how small.
Step 3. Get 2 other people off their asses to get their shit in order.
1. I was supposed to go get blood drawn yesterday for my second Beta. Unfortunately, THE TWELVE INCHES OF SNOW ON THE GROUND prevented it. My team of huskies and I were prepared to go, but the lab was closed. (I can hear the collective muttering of "weanies" from the Northwesterners and Northeasterners ) This is Louisville, Kentucky, though. As much as we salt and shovel and plow, we tend to be, well, weanies in the snow. If the forecast even mentions precipitation, there's a run on milk and bread at the Kroger. (The liquor store is always my first stop.) I hate being denied the information I need. (And I very much hated being denied my massage yesterday too.)
2. So, I will get my blood drawn on Monday.
3. I must refocus on work. I've been preoccupied. Please don't tell my boss.
4. I need to accomplish some very boring domestic activities, like laundry and grocery shopping. I would rather nap and read.
5. I need to work on that syringe art I was talking about. And I need to stop dropping by the Homemade Pie Kitchen after work and picking up two pieces of dutch apple pie with melted caramel on the top. Let me mop up the drool from the keyboard.
My apologies, it's not an exciting list.
I've been thinking a lot about why, how this worked (so far) this time. I was just as diligent with the shots and pills and lifestyle changes in November, but it didn't work. I prayed and wished and hoped just as much for this frozen cycle as I did in November. I don't believe that my prayers were so much more heartfelt this time or my want so much more profound that a Supreme Being felt I exceeded the threshold of piety and found me deserving of this, my prayer. "Melanie was particularly profound in Wednesday night's prayer and has become extremely efficient in administering shots, so I will grant this prayer. Next!"
I have been joyful when good things happened for my fellow infertiles in blogland (admittedly, envious too. And many times, "why the hell not me?") And, if I'm being very honest (sounding eerily like a certain American Idol judge) I've been put off too. It has somehow felt insulting to me when good news is explained by "God heard my prayers and granted my wish" and "God knew that I was meant to be a mother." The clear implication is that those of us who can't get an embryo to stick are less worthy in God's eyes. Or our relationship with a Supreme Being or the Universe is lacking in some material respect. My eggs are shit because God, in her infinite wisdom, knows that I would force my child to eat brussel sprouts?
I would be a big fat liar if I didn't admit that I have had many prayers of entreaty, not just on the infertility front. "Please, please, let this be. Let this happen." I believe, though, that the presence of a higher power in my life has been less in the granting of wishes (much less) and more in dealing with the aftermath of great joy and heartbreaking sadness. Strengthening my backbone, really. My entreaty through infertility has been, help me be strong enough to deal with the outcome. If that means living without a child, help me live a full, meaningful life. If I get to be a parent, help me live a full, meaningful life. Help me be a good parent.