this is going to be the last IVF cycle of my life. i’m never doing it again. this is it. either we will have more than our priceless little bbl or he’ll be an only child.
i mean, i’m 40. and adoption is expensive. by the time we could scrounge together money for that, how old would i be? too old, that’s how old.
so this is it.
in so many ways that is a good thing. a very good thing. duh.
but i’m a wreck about it.
i do not post on my blog about when things in my IVF cycles happen specifically. i feel like that’s nobody’s business. sometimes, not even my mom’s. sorry again, mom. so a lot of people – assuming a lot of people read this – know about my experiences generally and what i think about them. but not a lot of people know when things are happening or have happened.
yes, i have been told by my mother that my aunt guessed this or that about something i posted. but the real details are not something i have put on my blog. rude, i know.
the people at the fertility center, on the other hand, know everything. in any given IVF cycle, they know when i start doing shots. they know how many follicles i have and how they are responding to the drugs. they know when i’m having my egg retrieval, embryo transfer, and pregnancy test. there is no such thing as keeping our efforts to conceive private from them. they also know when i’m feeling confident and when i’m freaking out and when i’m feeling vulnerable. i mean, how can you hide those things from people when your feet are in stirrups or when they’re sticking needles in your arm?
they tell me i’m funny, that i have a beautiful uterine lining, that i’m handling things really well, that my questions aren’t crazy. that i’m normal.
they have been with me every step of the way every single time i’ve done this. i’m sure i don’t even realize just how much i have relied on them to survive day in and day out. i love those people. a deep and abiding and humble and grateful love.
what am i going to do when this over? whether i’m pregnant or not, it’s over. they are not going to be my support system anymore. i won’t see them week in and week out. i won’t be able to make them laugh. they won’t be there to complain to. it just won’t be the same.
oh man. i’m sad about it.