The post I didn’t want to write.
I don’t know where to go from here. You see, there’s comfort in having a plan. Even if it’s the best or worst plan in the world, HAVING a plan gives you something to hold on to when you are trying to keep your head above water. A point of reference, a direction. A lighthouse on a foggy shore.
This is the first time in my life I don’t have a plan.
I mean, wasn’t donor eggs SUPPOSED to be the magic bullet? It sure has been for practically everyone else I know. You would think, in life, that if you are willing to walk the longest and thinnest tight rope to get what you want that you might be rewarded for having the BALLS, the GUSTO! the blind MADNESS!! and ultimately succeed.
So where does that leave me?
I don’t have a clue.
Truth be told, I had a bit of a hissy fit with the RE today. I put on my big girl pants and went in for the blood draw and had an emotional discussion with one of the lead nurses on staff. I am not letting them off the hook for the poor thaw last week. When they called with the negative results this afternoon (shocking!) I gave an earful again. They are now off to have their own consult (a staff meeting to discuss the DE/IVF flunkies and determine what went wrong). Afterwards, I requested a WTF meeting with the lead doctor and nurse coordinator for the DE program. I may be done, but I won’t shrink into the background because of it.
In recent days- I had an epiphany… this isn’t just about ME. It’s also about my husband. He has always had a stake in this too, and to my surprise his level of investment is exceeding mine at the moment.
A short time ago, I was prepared for this end. As much as I could be anyway. And then, as S. and I discussed this week’s events and prepared for the final curtain, he turned to me and said… “We’ll find a way, and we’ll do it again. We’ll figure something out. This can’t be IT!”
“That’s crazy talk! What the hell are you smoking???” I retorted.
We didn’t say much after that. Actually, I think we made a date this weekend to eat fine food until we can’t move and drink vast quantities of our favorite microbrew beer, but we settled for an immediate fix of leftover Halloween candy and playing Nerf guns with David.
But I have to admit, I was perplexed. Here I am at the end of my emotional rope, that, admittedly… I drug him along at times over the years (maybe nudged is a better word). And now that we reach the end, and I am maybe ready? to make peace with the universe for giving me a shit sandwich… Husband and I have each swung 180 degrees in a different direction.
He wants to pull ME.
So I did it.
I opened the closet door. Yes, that door. My heart was in my mouth. I felt the monsters hot, nasty breath for a split second…and…
…just as I was about to be pulled in and consumed…
S. pulled me back.
No, we don’t have a plan. We may never have another plan.
Yes, my heart is aching and shattered into a million pieces. Yes, it’s hard to keep the anger at bay. I don’t know if I will ever get over the unfairness of life. There are so many of us that would risk certain danger for this ONE THING that comes so easy to most of the population. It seems, at times, that this has to be a world that has gone mad! How can the highest joy and ultimate sadness coexist on this earth? What is the meaning, the lesson?? So many questions.
I don’t know where we’re going, but we will hold on to each other in the darkness and walk in circles if we have to.
We will find a path eventually. And almost certainly, it will lead somewhere other than here.