I feel like I led you all astray the other day without meaning to. Without intention or thought. I posted what I did on Tuesday for two reasons. One, because I’ve been suffering from a bit of writers block lately and found myself looking at things I’ve written in the past, and two, because happening upon that old post made me think.
Think, and laugh. Because as much as I yearn to be a mother, and as much as my heart still aches over what has been lost – I truly look at any moment where I contemplate walking down the path of IVF again as a moment of temporary insanity.
I wasn’t joking when I used that term. Or I was, but not entirely. Because the truth is – the idea of going down that road again absolutely seems insane to me. Especially right now.
IVF is not an easy fix. It is not a cure-all. It is a possibility, with 50/50 odds of working, and very real consequences no matter how you look at it. Consequences on the body, psyche, and finances. Consequences I am just not willing to take on again.
It’s so hard for me to say this, because there are people in my life who I love who are currently pregnant as a result of IVF. There are also people I care about deeply who have gone through tremendous losses after IVF. And because I’m not private about anything in my life – all of these people know about this space and read here from time to time. So this is one topic, more than any other, where I feel stifled lately. Wanting to share my thoughts, but at the same time – not wanting to hurt anyone in the process.
But the truth is, my opinions on IVF have changed tremendously over the last year. I no longer believe it to be a means worth the end. At least, not for me. More and more, I am convinced that perhaps I couldn’t get pregnant for a reason. I have a lot of reasons for thinking this, and maybe at some point I’ll delve into it more deeply (it would certainly cure my writers block – but it would also require a courage I seem to have lost as of late) but for the time being just know – using all medical means necessary to try to force my body into doing something it clearly doesn’t want to do seems… wrong to me. FOR me. At least for now. At the stage I am in my life today. It just seems wrong. And like a decision that could only ever bring me a heartache so much more difficult to overcome than the heartache that accompanies simply accepting this life I’ve been given for exactly what it is and doing my best to move forward.
I am not judging the choices of anyone else here, and I want to make that clear. Nor am I saying I regret the choices of my past - because I absolutely do not. But there is this voice in the back of my head (one that has been there for a while now) telling me that even if I could find the magic combination of treatments to get myself pregnant – the end result would not be the happy ending I’ve been imagining. Call it fear if you will, but to be fair - I feel like I’ve earned that fear.
I tried to force my will once before, and my stubbornness and drive to get exactly what I wanted when I wanted it did not end well. For everyone who tells me that they believe it would work for me now, there were at least 5 others saying the same exact thing to me then. And who knows, maybe one day it will work for me. I am not so pig headed that I would use the word “never” in this instance, because I have no idea what the future holds and perhaps at some point down the line my current aversions to IVF will be assuaged. But for now, I know too much. And everything I’ve come to know and believe about IVF and the drugs involved makes me feel strongly that it’s not a path I want to go down again. I don’t believe it is what is best for my body, or my mind, or my bank account. And no matter how much I yearn for a child growing beneath my heart – at some point along the way I realized that the one goal of carrying a child was not worth sacrificing all else.
At least, not for me. Not now. And not on my own.
If this last year has taught me anything, it’s that I am ready to be in love. I am ready to find my partner in this life – whoever he may be. Whether he be someone already in my life, or someone I have yet to meet. I am ready.
And I really (truly, deeply, positively) do not want to deal with the rest of this infertility stuff until I do.
Even in those moments of temporary insanity, the idea of going down that road again causes me to catch my breath in what I can only assume is a bit of residual PTSD.
I have walked that road alone. I have cried myself to sleep. I have crumbled to a ball on my closet floor when walking the 10 more feet to my bed just felt like too much. I have done it alone. And I have also witnessed 2 very close friends doing it with the men they loved. And you know what? They got the better deal. As much as I tried to put on a brave face last year and pretend that I was fine with doing this all on my own; as much as I tried to pretend that I didn’t need a partner in this struggle; as much as I proclaimed my strong, independent woman status: I was wrong. And doing it alone (facing that heartache by myself) was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to overcome. I won’t do it to myself again. Not without someone by my side to hold my hand on that roller coaster. I realized last year that if pursuing IVF on my own was as hard as it turned out to be, actually raising a child on my own would be 1000 times harder. I thought I was strong enough. I thought I was woman enough. I thought I could do it all on my own just as well as any couple I’ve ever met.
I was wrong.
And I won’t do it alone again. To be fair, I may not do it at all. Partner or no partner. But I’m logical enough to admit that that part still remains to be seen.
When Mr. Right get’s his act together and shows up on my door, I suppose we’ll revisit the options and pro’s and con’s then. As a pair.
But I won’t do it alone.
So I’m sorry for leading you all astray. Really, I am. But for those of you still following this story in the hopes of one more dramatic Hail Mary pass – it’s not coming. I’m too content now. I’ve found my way back to a happy place. Every day I remember who I was. The more I focus on finding peace and happiness in the life I have today, the more I rediscover the pieces of myself I once lost on a journey to fulfill my own will at all costs.
There is beauty in walking away.
Peace in accepting the hand you have been dealt.
And happiness to be found when you stop trying to force your own will on the world.
Which is where I am now. Working every day to accept the life I’ve been given, and become a stronger person because of it. Some days are easier than others. Some days I find myself back in an angry place. But I know that where I am today is better than where I was a year ago. Better than where I was two years ago. Better than anywhere I have been along any point in this journey.
There is beauty in walking away.
And for now anyway, my focus is on finding the man first.
I’ll figure the baby part out once he’s here.
But in the meantime:
ADSPACE
