Well, i guess you can say that the mourning is over. I'm no longer mourning the loss of my unborn children, and I no longer suffer from permanent infertility--the two reasons i started this blog. Instead, dh and i have been downgraded to the garden variety infertility and have become residents of ivf nation.
I never imagined that when i started mourning that it would be over so "soon" or that life would take all the turns that it has. When you're told that you can never ever have children and should you try, you will pass on severe genetic defects to your offspring, life as you know it (the one you lived for, the only one you ever dreamt about) is over. All that is left is a barren wasteland of bleak emptiness. How do you go on from there?
It's not something i can answer with logic. All logic points to is that you cant go on. But the human spirit is not always limited by logic (fortunately) and finds a way to shine on, regardless.
I am going to keep this blog open to help others who find themselves suddenly incapable of conceiving and overwhelmed with loss and sadness. I recommend the books i have listed here to start. I also recommend a good grief counselor, who specializes in infertility. I would like to welcome any comments from anyone who has found other books or tools helpful in dealing with the loss of fertility.
In the meantime, I will be starting a new journey at The Fertile Soul.
After Friday’s meltdown, things finally get straightened out between all the offices and we were given a green light. Ahhh, thanks.
On Monday, I get a call from the doctor’s office, stating that on Friday afternoon(after the green light call to me) they were told that they have the referral, they have the precertification, now they need a predetermination. Ohhhh, that’s what you needed? What the F(&$*@(#&$()*@&% ????
So, I spent a couple of hours on the phone, being sent back and forth between Member Services and Precertification of my insurance company in the following manner:
Member Services: “you need to call Precertification for a predetermination at 1(800)F***OFF. It takes 7 to 10 business days for approval, so you might have to POSTPONE THE PROCEDURE.”
Precertification: “I’m sorry, but this is precertification, not predetermination, you need to call Member Services. Oh, and is this an infertility matter? Then you need to call the infertility program at 1(800)ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.”
Infertility Program: “We need documents from your doctors for you to enroll in this program. But, I’ve pre-enrolled you. But this procedure you’re having done is not a part of the infertility program, but the general program under Member Services at 1(800)ba-bye.”
Did y’all get that?
Then, on Tuesday I get a call from the doctor’s office: “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I just found out that this procedure is not covered by your insurance program. You’re not covered for IVF at all. And this procedure is going to cost $22,000.”
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!???????????????????
Drop phone to collect self off floor.
And you want to know what’s really weird … bizarre things like this happen to us EVERY single time we’ve tried to go forward with infertility treatment. I mean, how often does the doctor call up and say “we have to postpone your procedure because the doctor’s double booked?” And before this, the blood work we had done … the doctor’s office (a different one) screwed it up and we had to go back in for the same test. How odd? And we have a bazillion stories like this. Everything goes haywire when we try for this.
And then it makes me think, maybe this is a sign. Maybe we shouldn’t do this. What if something goes wrong? What if something happens and our lives are worse than what it is now, when it really isn’t bad??? I’ll regret that and I’ll regret that I pushed against these odds. What if I lose dh in the process of all this pushing? Huh? Nothing’s worth that.
In the end, I just said, screw that. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about these obstacles. I’m not going to overanalyze them or infer any cosmic sign in them. I’m not even going to think about the unpayable $22,000 and the fact that this isn’t even ivf or that we’re suddenly uninsured and uncovered.
So, we went forward. And yesterday, as I’m waiting for the procedure I find myself trying to distract myself with Oprah and The View—two exceedingly superficial shows. Perfect … except, I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take the superficiality when I was about to face our moment of truth. Instead, I thought about the moment of truth. This is it for us, and what do I want?
I’m afraid to say what I want. I’ve made so much progress with mourning and made peace with infertility. I don’t want something that might contradict that. And then I moved on and made peace with adoption. I don’t want to dishonor that by suddenly flinging myself at God’s door begging for this second chance.
And it’s not that I don’t want this second chance. I made peace with all the chances I’ve had and lost. I really wasn’t expecting another one. I was okay with my life, good with it. And now that I’m about to face the potential of another chance, I don’t want to seem ungrateful or insincere about the peace that I made.
But now that we do have this potential, this procedure, I need to know what I want. Not what I expect out of it, but what do I want, given that I could live without children or I could live with adopting children. So what do I want?
Well, since we are afterall going through with this costly procedure, what I want is for it to be successful. I want the outcome to be in our favor. I’ve already mourned permanent infertility once in my life. I don’t want to do it twice. Yes, I learned so so SO much during this mourning period, and I’ve gained so much. But it was a trying, hurtful time. Like a root canal, it’s not something I’d like to do over anytime soon.
And this is what I’m thinking as I’m waiting for said procedure. I’m thinking, what I really want is for it to be successful. But I’m afraid to admit this even to myself. Soon enough, I will know the outcome, there’s no need to confess my wants. I can just numb it out with Oprah and The View. And then I will know, and then I can react. But right now, I don’t need to ponder this painful question.
But I do … because this is the question I’ve always turned my back on. I’ve always just waited for the outcome to dictate my feelings. But this time I decided it was going to be different, even though I was very afraid to confess my feelings (like once you say it, the hands of fate will surely operate against you.) But I know that’s not true. It’s just my old fears talking. So I decided to step out of the shadows where my fears whispered and stand in the light of the truth that what I wanted was this procedure to be successful. I want this. I want this and I know that I really might not get it. I’ve already been denied completely and utterly once before. But that doesn’t matter now. The past doesn’t necessarily get repeated. I want this and the fear that I might not get it does not alter the truth, that this is what I want. And if I don’t get it, then I’ll deal with that when it’s a reality and not just a whispering fear.
I have never truly done that before. I’ve never declared my wants in the face of my fears. I want this and I don’t care what my fears have to say about it!
And in the end, the procedure was successful! Thank God!!! Cuz you know why? It’s exactly what I wanted!
It’s funny some times--so basic, it’s hidden in plain sight. You’ve got to want what you want. I cant wait for life to suddenly turn my way when I’m not even willing to say what I want (and be prepared to face the tragedy of not getting it).
I am so grateful for this journey. I never imagined that in the process of looking to have children, I’d find myself. In the process of searching for a fertile womb, I found something better … a fertile soul.
Now I am ready to be a mother … or not. But now I am ready.
I'm nervous. This procedure is coming up, and i feel all out of sorts. I dont know where to begin. I'm scared (surprise, surprise). I have no friends or family to talk to about this, mostly because they cant relate and usually end up saying something patronizing, which then makes me feel like it's better to have said nothing at all.
Which is where i'm at now. This is like a huge thing going on in our lives, and no one knows. And when it's over, no one will be around to support us in the aftermath.
I wish i could go to someone who'll tell me not to worry about it, that it's all going to work out, and give me a big hug, and then stuff me with brownies. No, i get to spend the whole morning fighting with the office manager at the doctor's office who doesn't know if they have the referral yet or if we need to postpone our procedure again. Dont they understand how we are already freaked out about this? Do they need to freak us out MORE??????
I cant help but feel really bad about this. I dont understand it, but i just know i feel really bad.
I'm scared, but it's so irrational, but i am. And, i dont know why.
Actually, i guess, i'm scared of the ultimate let down. I'm so "close" to getting the one thing i ever wanted and at the same time so "close" to being told that our hopes for biological children are truly over (again).
I guess i'm afraid of massive disappointment. I'm afraid of knowing the same stuff all over again, we're permanently infertile. Doing this procedure has given me a little hope about it. And here i am again alone with my fears.
I guess that's what bothers me most of all--that i'm alone with my fears. It's an old, old feeling, a recurrent childhood experience. No one around to make me feel safe, no one except my fantasies about future children who i promised would be safe and cared for better than i was.
But here's the thing. I have a choice. I can choose to stay stuck in the re-experience of my childhood fears (which is what life-altering fears remind me of and bring me back to, so that i'm reduced to a crying baby, still wanting, needing someone to realize that i'm scared and alone) ORRRRR i could choose to realize that i am a competent, capable adult now, and i can bring all the powers at my disposal to make me feel safe, as i would give to any child of mine. I am no longer that child, crying and quivering with fear (even though, days like this, it REALLY FEELS LIKE IT!), i am an adult loving and caring person. And if i would just open myself up to that, just release the idea that i will forever be that emotionally neglected child with no one to talk to in times of fear, and allow myself to come out of my corner and into my own light, i might not feel so bad. I might even feel better. Cuz you know why? I spent a life time waiting for the chance to love and care for a child, the way i had never been. So why not pour all that love and care onto my inner child?
Because my inner child is scared, if not scarred. All prior attempts to come out have ended in immediate retreats to the corner for massive wound lickings. So what's different about now?
Nothing. I cant promise that i wont get hurt. I can only promise that i will take great care of myself if i am. But there is the chance that i wont get hurt. That i will, instead, be healed. And i will never know that until i step out. The past does not equal the future. What happened in the past (over and over and over again!) will not necessarily happen the next time. It might be safer not to take any chances and stay hidden in my corner. But then, i will never fully be healed and that emotionally neglected child will cry on foreover.
How could i do that to myself? I wouldnt do it to a stranger on the street.
My inner child is crying, and i just know that she doesnt have to be scared anymore because I am here now.
So, we get back from Disney World and dh says, hmmm, there were a lot of kids there. Really? Why is he noticing? And what was i thinking dragging him down there so i can remind him of what we dont have. Mind you, i didnt notice any kids. Hey, i was in DISNEY WORLD. No time for pity party when you're at the happiest place on earth.
Oh but then, a few days later, dh says, you know, i could consider adoption. Okay, now, he's said this before over the years, so it's not a shocker to me. But since i'm not open to it and nothing's going to happen unless i am and we're both 100% on this, then it just becomes an interesting little factoid of dh's. As in, hmmm, isnt that interesting for you but totally without relevance to me. (no, i didnt say that to him :)
But it strikes me as so odd that i'm so convicted about not adopting at this point in my life. Who's ever 100% sure about anything? And yet I feel rock solid about it, immovable, unbudgeable. It's not for me. I know FOR SURE. So, as i'm thinking this, i say to dh the next day, you know, i'm totally not interested in adoption. I mean, i'm just not interested. WHATSOEVER. Isnt that interesting? To which dh responds, ever so smoothly, I'm not necessarily interested but i would be open to it.
It surprises me that I can be so hardlined about it. But so it is and so i am. And I said so to dh. The only thing I’d be willing to do is revisit the topic in 5 years--not adopt in 5 years, but consider it again in 5 years. Who knows, maybe by then I might feel differently.
But as i'm talking to him, i'm petting Sweet Pea, my 7 month old kitten, and thinking, isnt it odd how i can adopt this kitty (who was abandoned and rescued from a garbage dumpster) and LOVE HER SO MUCH, like she were my daughter, and she's not the fruit of my loins or even from the same species? If only adopting a child were as easy as adopting a cats. ... There it is.
But I shrug it off as another one of those interesting odd factoids. And the next day it hits me, I mean really hits me. I could see myself adopting an orphan baby. Forget about all the intervening problems and issues, which are manifold (and scary). Putting those aside for one second (which has not been easy and has probably been the blocking force thus far), I could actually see myself adopting.
This is huge! OH MY GOD. And it scares me. Scares me so much I want to cry. Like, now that I’ve confessed to this, it wont happen. It’s impossible. Too many obstacles and problems. But that’s ok. I mean, yes, every road is full of obstacles, but that doesn’t mean I should negate the desire to begin with. That’s an awesome desire. And I respect it. Wahoo!
I've read so many blogs wherein people have considered and refused the adoption path and would think"right on" because the adoption path is scary, so SCARY. There are so many issues to factor in, domestic or international, international country a or international country b, child or baby, boy or girl, orphan or not? The uncertainty of all these questions, plus my own sad feelings about never getting pregnant, plus all the scary stories i've ever heard about adoptions gone wrong (birth parent comes back and fights for child, international child comes home with an unreported illness, etc.) have made me pull the automatic "no" trigger. No, not for me, no more scary, unhappiness stuff for me, ever again. As if i can stop that, anyway. Jeez.
So, here i am, happy to report that i can finally, finally, FINALLY see myself adopting and not be overwhelmed by the scariness of it all. Instead, i am happy about the potential of it.
I dont know what that means for us now. I just want to soak in this realization for a while, and not allow myself to get flustered by all the details of adoption. We are still scheduled for a procedure on February 8. But, i'm relieved to know that whatever happens on that day (either we will be welcomed onto the ivf bandwagon or banned from it), it'll be okay either way.
For now, I’m just so glad and relieved I can have this feeling, regardless of what happens. I’m so glad I understand myself.
I started this blog to mourn the loss of our unborn children and grandchildren, as my husband and I recently discovered that we can never have biological children. I've never done this before (blogged or grieved), but as so many of our spiritual masters before us have shown us, 40 days is as good amount of time as any to do so.
Here's where I grieve for the loss i suffered from infertility.
This was my journey through ivf where i learned a lot more about my body than i ever wanted to. Now this is just my journey through what remains of my life--life without children, the plain ordinary life.
