(Complicated)

I’ve always been the sort of person things work out for. Even when those things are long shots. It’s little things like needing to leave my bike and having forgotten my lock just as a friend ambles by and has time to stand watch for five minutes. It’s big things like deciding I’d like to join the Foreign Service and then vaulting right through the (lengthy, competitive) process and into employment. At the time, the odds were 200 hires for every 30,000 applicants. Long shot indeed. Especially for someone who knew no languages (officially) and had read zero foreign policy/international affairs news (ever).

I don’t win contests (usually) but I do win in general (prepare, plan, cover all the bases) and I can’t believe I’m just not going to have a baby (probably). To be clear, I don’t think I deserve or am entitled to the good things that happen. But I do accept that they happen and I’m happy for it. Lots of supremely terrible stuff (brain surgery, that was fun) happens to me, too, and I don’t deserve that either. I’ll tell you though, even when things do derail me, something always happen to save the situation. Evidence:

In college, I routinely broke down in the desert miles from any help. Every single time someone happened by to assist. Once, two threatening men in a tinted window sedan (saved by an elderly couple pulling up right behind them). Another time on my way to a flight to a job interview (saved by I kid you not a menacing looking circus clown in a panel van). On Halloween, a man in a pick-up with guns piled on the seats (given a cookie by his wife in a perfectly normal looking subdivision 10 heart-swallowing miles away).

Also in college, at 2am on the way back from that really disastrous interview (made the flight but blew two tires in a rental car in the snow), I stopped the car from exhaustion. There was too much fog, I hadn’t eaten or slept in more than 12 hours. I didn’t even bother to pull on to the shoulder. But, when the fog cleared for a moment, I saw that I was already on the shoulder, pointed off the road, and had stopped not twenty feet from the edge of a steep canyon.

Things work out for me.

I’m surprised that having a baby is not working out (I was equally surprised that my tubes were clear and that my equipment was well prepared to have a baby). I think I was coasting along assuming there would be a hail mary delivering us a child. Admittedly, my timeline was (is) short and we could keep trying but we talked about it and tried to make the decision in a sane place. Finding a week to do that without hormones was not easy.

I don’t think I can rule out another try completely and I am sitting on an egg at the moment. If you’re at all superstitious, we were in a different room for this IUI. The doctor was wearing a bow tie instead of scrubs. I ovulated earlier than expected. In fact, we nearly missed it since I started checking for ovulation later than usual expecting a kit change on the 19th. We now know which of the staff have kids and how they are doing. We’ve started recognizing and making friends with other patients in the waiting room. It’s time to be done. It’s okay to be done. It’s hard to be done. But I’m done.

Advertisements

32 Responses

  1. The whole process is such a roller coaster, and makes no sense, and is like no other thing in life (even though I just compared it to a roller coaster. Metaphors, they are false.). I’m hoping that, whatever happens, and whatever decision y’all make and you make, you have peace about it.

    • I think it’s possible to have peace – something I wouldn’t have been able to say last month, I don’t think. Maybe it is the terrible threes (thanks RR!) and maybe it is, as you say, the ups and downs in life. Regardless, things are teaming up to make it okay to stop trying. Peace is the next step but not (I hope) too far away.

  2. I’ve had the same charmed life myself. I often remind myself that it will work out the way it’s supposed to and then let go. As the stones said, ‘You can’t always get what you want, you get what you need’.
    Pretty much the motto of my life.

    • I love a Rolling Stones reference first thing in the morning. I once sat in a hut in Botswana while a man (maybe you could call him a witch doctor – I doubt he would use those words) threw the bones for me. He translated his throw as two children, both boys, and a serious brain issue that would need intervention. He thought it would be okay though. I’ve got to say, he has gotten the kids wrong but I can easily forgive that. I’m pretty sure the bones can’t say gender and males are valued in many societies. As for the brain, man, did he call it. That’s a pretty specific forecast and he nailed it. Maybe, just maybe, he’s not wrong about those kids after all…

  3. I’m sad to read this and I really hope you can find some peace about it. TTC is such a rollercoaster and even one cycle can be exhausting, let alone a long drawn-out process.Still holding hope for you this cycle and sending strength and peace for future decisions.

    • Thank you – you all know how hard it is, to want something but have no way of controlling the outcome. But I’m not much of a dweller (at least not once I’ve decided) so I hope it’s not too sad next month.

  4. If anything is a good sign it’s certainly a bowtie, you can’t go wrong there. I’ve got my fingers crossed for you!

  5. I’m not sure if I said it before, (and I don’t know how much intervention you are comfortable with) but I had a horrible time with Clomid. My body responded much better to injectable medications, and it only took one try once we switched the plan. I would never encourage anyone to go farther down the rabbit hole of fertility treatments than they are comfortable with, but I wanted to encourage you to consider trying something other than Clomid. If we decide to have #2 I will ask for injectable medications from the start. I wish you peace when you come to the end of that journey.

    (And I’m glad to hear from your previous post that RR is doing better! Good work, girl!)

    • Thanks for that – RR has been a trial and continues to be but it’s much more being 3 now and less external stressors. And thanks for sharing your clomid experience. The doctor was pretty clear about the hit/miss nature of it. I think if this were our first I’d be pulling out all the stops but we’re really happy now so this would be icing.

  6. I know when I decided I was done, I was very sad but I knew it was the right decision. It was not the outcome I wanted but it was just not working for me anyway. I know you know when you are done and I wish you peace! We both have amazing kids and I know they each fill our lives to the brim.

  7. Catch and I talk all the time about how it seems like we’re always so lucky. How things just fall into place. Throughout this process the thing idea I’ve struggled with the most is that perhaps our difficulty IS things falling into place. It’s a conundrum.

  8. That sucks. I can’t image how it feels to go through that. My wife and I are only in the “talking about” part of family planning (we’re not even sure we want to TTC, she knows she doesn’t want to be pregnant and neither of us know anything about our fertility ability).

  9. I’m superstitious, and I say if luck isn’t working there’s always magic. A friend made us a gris-gris while we were trying, and then B. got the baby in a king cake, and 9m (6.5 really) later, unto us a child was born.

  10. I love it. I was also had a “charmed life”…so much so that when the RE said “I’m sorry, I don’t have good news. I can’t find a heartbeat.” I was totally puzzled about how she could be so lacking in skill not sobbing in despair. Ah, arrogance. Now that I have joined “that club” and have since failed to get pregnant in that “you’re most fertile after a miscarriage” time period I am wondering what the hell happened. Few things will bring you to your knees faster than fertility treatments.

    On the plus side–I find Clomid to be a breeze.

    Good luck to you whatever you decide to do!

  11. It sounds to me like sure, you are lucky, but what you especially are is good at seeing the rescuing in situations other people would mostly find unlucky. I have grand hopes for the lavender bow-tie, but regardless, this habit of mind is admirable and maybe protective from darkest despair. (No, I don’t mean that nothing bad ever happens to people with the right attitude, or similar hogwash.)

    • Of course not, and not taken as such. You’re right though – it’s a good skill and it doesn’t come naturally to everyone (anyone?) Clearly, what I need now is some sort of circus clown in the form of a uterine miracle.

  12. I have all manner of hope for you and this bow tie-laden adventure but this post reminded me of one of the things I find most frustrating about the baby-making process. It’s the sense of putting one’s current life on hold in anticipation of some other life. There’s something refreshing about deciding that this is the life we’re living now and doggone it, we’re going to enjoy every minute of it instead of anticipating what may or may not be coming. Either way, I have no doubt that there is joy coming your way and you’ve got some good people to share it with.

  13. I have been similarly lucky in life, and similarly baffled when the having-a-second-kid thing didn’t come easily. I hope very much that this cycle is The One and that all of the the pondering becomes moot. But I certainly understand the desire to be done with the whole miserable TTC process. It’s so exhausting in so many ways (physically, emotionally, financially, etc.). Thinking of you all.

  14. Ahhhhh damn ladyfriend. I wish I could totally knock you up. You know I would. This is a shitty road to be on…not knowing where the edge of the cliff is.
    But I hope you always end up safely on the shoulder and not in the back of some psychopaths van.

    • I know you would. And I’d appreciate the vacation to such an awesome place while you did it 😉 As for your last. I think that might be my new life’s motto.

  15. Let’s not underestimate the power of a bow tie…..

  16. I’m sorry it’s not working out for you this time. Maybe in the long run, you will see that it did, that there was some other thing you’ll need to do or be present for… Or maybe it just sucks.

  17. I’m the same way, which makes me miserable when things don’t work out as I expect. But as I’m constantly reminded, everything in its time. A baby involves a whole slew of people involved, not just you. Thus, more timing and coordination. Be patient and don’t give up.

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: