I composed a post yesterday and then just like that, Sa.fari ate it. I was trying to delete a word and all of a sudden it deleted 6 paragraphs. After that I didn't have the humph to start over.
The week has come and gone, and I will be going back to work on Monday. I am feeling apprehensive about it, but I've made plans to work from home on one of the days next week so that I can come back and be with Mr. A. I'm not sure what I will tell people who ask what happened, what was wrong, am I better, etc. I can tell them that I am physically better. That would be true. I can tell them that I was ill. That wouldn't be entirely true. I can tell them to mind their own fucking business. That doesn't sound like me. Any good scripts you have, please send my way. As you can see, the well is dry of inspiration for a good story.
I am sitting here drinking Pinot Noir. It's nice to be able to drink wine, but I would give up wine for the rest of my entire existence if it meant I could have a child. Bargaining. That's a stage of grief, says Kubler-Ross.
I have been doing ok, I think. I cry each day, and I have moments of feeling complete desperation, but otherwise I am holding on. I focused a lot on self-care this week: long walks, reading a novel, watching the first season of Ma.d Me.n, baking and cooking, spending time with beloved friends, and spending some quality time with Mr. A. I wish I could send you all some of my pear, pecan, and dark chocolate muffins.
What's been the hardest are the nights and mornings. I wake up each night and can't fall back asleep. With my 'middle of the night irrational mind', I can't seem to hold on to the belief that we will ever be parents. In the dark hours, I am choked by the panic that I will not have children, that all this work is in vain, that nothing we can do will change this utterly shitty luck. I do fall back asleep and then have trouble getting out of bed once morning arrives. And when I do get up, I'm pretty unsteady for a few hours. By the afternoon, I can usually start looking into options for our next steps. If friends call me in the morning, the get the weepy Augusta; if they call in the afternoon, I can hold a conversation without sobs.
I had lunch with Sattva on Tuesday. I bought her lunch and she started to cry. She said it felt like she didn't deserve lunch, which is where I joined her in the crying. She deserves oceans and mountains of gratitude, and all I have for her is this puny lunch. She reminded me that we were sitting exactly where we sat a year ago having lunch and discussing the ramifications of going ahead with the egg donation. She said she didn't regret it. She said "let's try again". Sattva being Sattva, she of course wants to try again. That took the wind out of my pipes. How can she even think of going through that again? She said that looking back, it wasn't too bad and that overall, what she took from it was this sense of doing something good. She reminded me that because we've done all the preliminary steps, it wouldn't take too long to try again. Mr. August and I had always thought that we would not want her to go through the IVF procedure more than once. I must admit we are seriously taking in her offer. I think the dream of having a child with her help and seeing our families join through the egg donation is still very strong within us. We have an appointment with Dr. RE on June 16 and we will get his opinion on whether that's a good idea or not.
It's pretty daunting to think about the other options, although I have thought through them carefully and will not reject any of them at this point (except adoption through the Children's Aid Society, which is something I can talk to you about through email but won't post on here). Embryo adoption, surrogacy, or private local adoption. What is daunting is simply the money and the wait time, otherwise, I feel capable of going to the ends of the earth to get our child. I realize all the options are gambles, and guarantees are not granted in this game.
A few friends have asked me this week how come I still hold hope after what has happened. I did not have answers when they asked, but it made me think about it more. I was walking downtown earlier today and it occurred to me that the reason I still have hope is you. You women have gone through hell in the form of multiple miscarriages, umpteen IUIs and IVFs and surgeries, years of trying and failing, years of keeping hope alive somehow. I have 2 failed IUIs, a diagnosis of ovarian failure, and a miscarriage and that's all. Your hope and your tenacity has inspired me. I've decided to keep fighting this merciless IF monster. I've figured out who my heroes are, and I will work to emulate them. Thank you, dear women.