Thursday, September 18, 2008

A Time to Mourn

Yep, I'm feeling it. The gray, olive green clouds. The quick temper. The raw, exposed nerve endings. Difficulty concentrating. Sprinklings of tears, always out of the blue, unpredictable but reliably so. A jellybean of loss, lodged like a splinter. Comforting words bounce off like raindrops, leaving me, well, feeling all soggy. Vacillating between wanted to be coddled and wishing for an impenetrable layer of People B' Gone.

E asked me if I needed to talk to someone. Of course, it set me off. "About what?" I asked? "I need to pay someone to offer me sympathy and tell me that I can have a rich, full life even without a child?" I know that. Of course I know that. I just need to mourn what could have been for a little of while. And if I'm snappy and short, well, get over it. (I thought I trained him better... just yes me and send me flowers.)

I really feel, with the assistance of Dr. Google, that physically it is over for me, even if I was willing to commit even more money and time. I've had two failed fresh cycles and one miscarriage from a frozen cycle. I'm 6 months from 39. Try as I might with the assistance of very creative Google searches, the odds are far from being in my favor. My RE, the doll, made it clear that ovarian reserve can diminish greatly in a short period of time. My response to this last cycle bears that out. But still.

In the vein of if wishes were horses, I just wish I knew. The humble comfort of certainty. Oyster, meet my world. Pack up the bags, hon, I'm taking that international job and we're moving to Spain. Or culinary school just for kicks. Why the hell not. I was walking from my car this morning and I thought, "you're just not going to be able to have this child," almost like some doctor somewhere had proclaimed it physically impossible. And it gave me peace. Permission to plan, I guess. For just a moment.

But I'm just not there yet. Maybe I will be after we meet with the doctor. Maybe after I try another frozen cycle with my one, freezing little blast. Maybe my issue is not so much having a child as it is dealing with the palpably bitter disappointment of failure. Failure and sympathy, frick and frack. Oh, yea, and just feeling so darn vulnerable and exposed. You know, the things that percoset can't touch.

11 comments:

Evil Stepmonster said...

Oh yeah I know those feeling..

Sometimes I think it would be easier to be told "its not going to happen", so at least i could close that door and move on with some certainty. One big cut, rather so many little ones.

Sue said...

I think not knowing is the hardest part of all.

Mrs.X said...

I sometimes wonder how I could have ever been so stressed as a kid - life was pretty darn simple, and in school THERE WAS ALWAYS AN ANSWER. Now, being an adult - of course what we moaned about getting to all those years - there are no ready answers, no one to tell you yes or no. You have the power to choose but that so does not make it easy.

The good news is that you don't have to choose right now and frankly, making such a decision now would be irresponsible, like drunk dialing. You're absolutely right that you need time to mourn - and you should take every second of it. Mourning isn't particularly fun or glamorous but like taking out the trash and cleaning the house, it's necessary and in the end, makes you feel better.

I'll sit with you as long as you need. :)

ps - G is farting up a stinking storm this evening, so I would like to blame all of your current problems on him. 'k?

Io said...

Oh frick. I wish we got better clues to how we're supposed to plan our lives.

luna said...

oh how much easier it would be if we could just know. we could just grin and bear it if we knew it would work, or walk away and try to get on with our lives if we knew it would not. if only anything could be easy.

Rebeccah said...

The not-knowing thing is really hard. Even now that I've made what appears to be a decision, the what-ifs bubble up and smack me in the head sometimes.

I say mourn as long as you need to, and then some. And eventually life will nudge you in a direction. But that will be later and you'll be in a different space and you don't have to think about it right now if it makes you crazy. Which is easier said than done, I know...

Shinejil said...

I wish I could crack open a bottle of something good with you (after I polish off this side of pork here) and bitch and rant and then sink into sullen silence.

That flatulent dog! He's just ruined everything!

I too have been longing for solitude, while hoping someone would take care of me. I think depression, if it doesn't go too far, is a healthy retreat, when you have a lot of emotional work to do and just can't put yourself out there all the time for everyone.

The dreaming part--the cooking school, the job in Barcelona--now, that's fun. And hopefully a little glimmer in the dark.

loribeth said...

Wallow away. You are entitled!!

Phoebe said...

Sometimes I feel like it would be so much easier if I just did not want children. Too bad it doesn't work like that.

At the risk of sounding too hopeful, I do think there is a protocol out there for you. It involves human growth hormone. I know a woman who had success with this protocol after two failed IVFs. She is in her late 30s also. She switched clinics for this 3rd cycle (or was it the 4th?). I think if you do decide to do IVF again, you need to switch clinics. I also really like the book "Nurturing YOurself Through IVF" by Lynn Daley. Again, another story of a woman who was successful on IVF #3. She switched clinics too, along with adding some alternative things, like acupuncture and meditation. She also had faith.

Alacrity said...

Melanie -

I definitely have been where you are, and even so, it is not easy to know what to say.

I agree that the uncertainty really makes this so unbearable - whether to hope or not. Whether it is time to give up or not. Whether to try again or not. It is endless, and as it is a dilemma, there is no right answer - only what you decide is right for you.

I am not going to offer you any assvice other than to tell you that not a single RE (I had four) ever told me that ovarian reserve can drop off quickly - in fact, those who commented said the opposite: you have time to think about your next step - fertility doesn't drop off in a matter of months.

I can definitely identify with what you said about the relief you felt just imagining the certainty of going on and planning an alternative future for yourself. And also the acceptance of failure - how hard that is when throughout life effort and persistence has been rewarded with success. Can I accept this failure? I remember when I started to wonder if I was having more trouble accepting the failure than the childlessness. Still don't know the answer to that one.

So I guess what I want to say is that you do have a little time here to step back and consider next steps, or not taking next steps. To try on all the options in your mind, and allow yourself time to process the disappointment of this last cycle.

Hang in there!

Deborah said...

Thank you for coming by my blog and offering support. Your words touched me to the point that I had to come over and say thank you, not knowing you too are going through the same thing.

I wish I had some magical words to make everything all right again, but they just don't exist. Life wasn't suppose to be this hard, this painful and this disappointing. And the crappy part for me is knowing that life goes on with undoubtfully more shitty things to come. No, I am not in the most optimistic place right now. I want there to be some quota, somewhere that I have reached and that I can go on knowing that only good things are to come.

OK this wasn't at all inspiring. I just wanted you to know that I understand and you are not alone, whatever comfort that might bring, I am not sure. Dammit-I just can't get positive at all, so I will stop. (((hugs)))