Last night I took the first pill for my last ever fertility treatment. And I have a date. February 4th will be the last time anyone tries to knock me up.
That will be the end of my infertility journey.
I’d like to say “good riddance” to it all and run as fast as I can for the happy hills- for life since little E arrived in January 2012 has been more joyous than I ever imagined possible. The idea of venturing back out to the stormy hormonal seas of infertility makes me seasick in anticipation. But those two last embryos from IVF #1 are waiting and I’ve put them off long enough.
I know I should feel grateful- and I do- that I have this one last shot. But I’m scared.
On my optimistic days, I wonder how I will explain to these grown-up embryos that their sister should be younger than they are- that they should have been born back in April 2011. That all four of their siblings in that dish in 2010 ended up as miscarriages, that I couldn’t face them so I started “fresh” in 2011, and only their sister made it out of that dish- none to the freezer. And that’s just what I imagine on my optimistic days.
On my not-so-good days, I debate the merits of a D&C vs natural miscarriage, since I have the benefit of having experienced both.
On other happier days, I map out my “BFN” plan- all the things I’ll do like run a marathon, look for a new job, start a business, and embrace being a mother of an only child. (Something I always told my only-child husband that I wanted to avoid at all costs for fear of turning into his overly-dotting mother.)
My sweet husband, whose optimism carried us through the miscarriages and IVF cycles, is as usual upbeat. His main concern is that he may have forgotten how to swaddle a baby properly, suggesting that we take the classes again.
I love him so much.
And I know how lucky I am. But here’s a confession: When going through primary infertility, I always slightly resented those going through secondary infertility. They already had one baby. Wasn’t that enough?
Now I know how much secondary infertility stings. I’ve been through this all before, and know that the loss that comes with each BFN or miscarriage hurts, and that it’s like scratching all those past wounds to go into the fray again.
But here I go. One little green pill down the hatch. I’ll keep everyone updated- and will try and be more upbeat on my next post.
Thanks as always for reading and cheering me on.