I vowed when I started this blog that if I didn't have anything to say, I wouldn't say anything. And I certainly would not, WOULD NOT, ramble on about meaningless drivel, like my quest for the perfect pair of dark brown closed toe pumps, hopefully with a bit of ornamentation to set them apart from the crowd, or the rude lady at the pedicure place who womanhandled my feet, rudely tapping my ankles when it was time to submerge or demerge from the soaking tub (and I would not, WOULD NOT, drone on about the water not being hot enough or the poor selection of celebrity trash mags).
I'm breaking my vow. I don't have a lot to say, but I feel like talking.
It feels strange not to be doing anything related to infertility treatments. No needles, no pills, no visits to the RE. It feels strange, but nice. Normal. I don't know exactly when treatment will start up again. We'll get the results of E's chromosomal tests in about two weeks. If all's normal, we'll jump back on the wagon for another fresh cycle. Sometime. I don't dread the thought of shots or pills or monitorings. I don't dread the retrieval or the transfer. I dread the waiting. I dread with everything I am the emotional toll of a negative or a failing positive. I dread the having to mold myself back in to a package of normalcy after another failed cycle. And if I'm being really honest, there's a part of me that dreads, a little bit, how my life, our lives, will change if the cycle is not a failure. (I prefer that my angst cover all bases.)
I saw a counselor last week for the first time in 6 years. If a girl has to pay someone to listen to her, well that's what a girl does. I exaggerate, of course. I have wonderful listeners in real life and with you. I've been struggling, though, with where I fit in in the world. Where's my place? Why do I feel so old at 38? Yes, I believe I even asked the question, "but what does it all mean?" I'm sure my counselor saw dollar signs.
I've concluded my Tuesday ramblings. I will happily report back to the group when my counselor reveals the meaning of life. And the winning lottery numbers.
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10 comments:
I have been asking myself the same questions recently. IF has stolen so much from my soul. Intellectually, I know I will resolve my IF in some way and be happy again. Emotionally, I am the complete opposite. It is very tiresome to have these opposing thoughts and emotions happening concurrently. Good luck with your new therapist!
Oh, but you are so fun to read. Even if you consider it to be drivel, I'm sure you're a fun read. I love your sarcasm.
oh you can drivel on whenever you like -- it's your space. I feel so old at 38 too, maybe because I'm almost 39. ~luna
Please ramble on as much as you feel like. We'll listen. And even snark back every once in awhile
It is strange to fit yourself back into the mold as you so eloquently put it - after a failed treatment. You don't want to be normal again. You want to be pregnant. And it's particularly hard when you weren't ready to take a break.
By the way, I truly enjoy your drivel (which by the way, I don't think it is). You aren't just an infertile person, you are a whole person and it's so wonderful to see glimpses of the girl who is infertile but still carries on. Sometimes, it's that kind of stuff that I find most inspiring. It's the yeah, I'm infertile, but I also have other things going on.
And, a therapist sometimes can be so helpful. Glad you have found someone who can help you answer those questions.
I love to hear about things like pedicures and the quest for the holy pump. At least the way you describe them. They shine a ray of snarky fun into my Goodwill, rice-and-beans life. :)
Dealing with meaning is hard, and paying someone means you're dedicating a space to wrestling with it. Someone with no stake in your answers to your questions. Pretty cool.
ohhh, the meaning of life, excellent, I keep googling it, but i get nothing.
I agree, infertility can be a soul renching, heart crushing, experience. It's good to take time away, to recuperate before diving in again.
girl you are very normal. In the midste of this all, I'm looking for the perfect pair of boots myself. If you get those lottery numbers, holler at your girl ok?! ;)
Ramble On...Im rocking out over here in my head to some Led Zeppelin. Sometimes the ramblin' just helps get out the cobwebs-I'll be here to read whenever you feel like ramblin!
Ill be waiting for those lottery numbers...
Came here from the Roundup. I too search for the elusive perfect pair of dark brown, closed-toe pumps. I think I've found some good choices at Aerosoles. Specifically, the cheerleader - pictured in red usually. I got it in brown and it looks good.
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