Which way to the exit?

I promised myself that I wouldn’t obsess about things until at least after the holiday.

But I am a fool. I don’t have that kind of self-control.

I’ve been poking around. Researching. Contemplating. Reading your feedback. Hanging out on websites, making phone calls to big clinics and adoption agencies.

I had my follow-up appointment with my RE, and well, it was somewhat pleasant and horrifying at the same time. Pleasant in that, I really like the team of doctors there. They’ve never not provided an answer when I ask a direct question. They have hearts, and are genuinely interested in wanting me to succeed.

We talked about the FET. Dr. Nerd opened my file and we went through every embryology report. We talked about how the donor may have not been the best choice (hindsight being 20/20). I gave feedback on what I liked/disliked about their donor program. We talked options for the future. I walked out with closure, sort of, and that’s about it.

The reality is my chances of succeeding are still high if I were to cycle again with another donor… no matter where I cycle.

The bigger reality staring me in the face is that we are tapped out of cash. I could want this more than anything, but there’s a point where I need to take into account “the rest of our lives”. I can’t put our family in financial ruin chasing a dream. There’s still a lot of living to do.

Yes, if a wad of money appeared out of nowhere, or embryos miraculously dropped in my lap I would jump on it. But for now, dreaming is just that… dreaming.

Unbeknownst to me my decision has sort of lingering here all along.

I would have loved to make a dramatic exit out of the land of infertility, emerge vicoriously, flipping the middle finger on my way out….but this story ends quietly for now.

Not necessarily closing the book, just bookmarking it if I ever choose to return.

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Cue Monster

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.

But no.

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.

The last chapter…

For the inquiring minds: I tested this morning. I stared back at nothing. Not even a whisper of a line.

Please, do not tell me it’s too early. It’s not.

So this is what it feels like to really fail at something. To exhaust every path, to endure every last available technology.  To pump myself full of chemicals that have god knows what affect down the road.

Almost five years of misery. Five years of loss. Five years of chasing a dream only to come up empty.

Empty in mind, body, spirit, and finances.

No next step. No back up plan to the back up plan.

Just sadness, regret, and unbearable pain.

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A swine Halloween

Swine flu or no swine flu, we managed to have Halloween here at the BagMomma house after all.

It’s been a long week, and I am not lying when I tell you I had almost forgotten I had my FET last Tuesday. David being sick was all the diversion I needed.

Thankfully, the boy started feeling better at the end of the week, and was awake enough to put on his Halloween costume and venture out for a little while with Daddy while I stayed behind to give out candy.

He even stayed in costume when it got dark, and attempted to scare trick-or-treaters by standing still as a statue under the maple tree.

Now that the weekend is over, I guess I can start wondering if the lone embryo made it.

My first guess is a no, and I judge that only from extensive experience in the 2ww.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.  I know my body quite well (even though I’ve grown to hate it).  There’s no way I am pregnant.

Beta is on Friday, but I intend to test very soon just so I can get it over with.


Yep, I just took the “Happy” out of Halloween.  Sorry about that.

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