I skipped the birthday party of a 3 year old today. The son of one of my best friends on the planet. I can’t even bring myself to feel bad about it either and I hope she’ll understand that I love her more than anything, but this whole thing is still very raw to me. It’s just another thing that would make me mentally torture myself with what I’ve taken to calling the “what ifs.”
I’m 31 years old, which apparently in IVF world makes me “young” according to my doctor. So hey, I’ve got that going for me. But it also means I am in the middle of prime baby-having years for all of my peers. This year alone I know 7 women that will be having babies…and those are just the people I like. Don’t get me started on the never ending Facebook pregnancy announcements from acquaintances that make me say “Ugh, shut up” as I scroll past.
So, as all these lovely women prepare to welcome their kids, I have to think…what if.
What if this never works?
What if this destroys our marriage in the process?
What if my husband wants to give up before I do? Or vice versa?
What if I never have the chance to carry my husband’s child?
What if I never get to sit there and analyze if the baby got my ears or my husband’s eyes?
I’ve never pictured a life without kids. It’s just always been an accepted part of my future. So to be told that this may never happen and that’s it’s because of factors that modern medicine can’t fix…is jarring…to say the least. The day I found out what the next step was, I sat down and got on Pinterest. Shut up. Did I not just say I’m a 31 year old women? That shit is my jam. I typed in Infertility. And boy did I tumble down the rabbit hole.
Nervous breakdown #1: April 1, 2016. Again, the irony is not lost on me. Worst April Fools Day prank ever. Except it’s super real.
Anyway. Pinterest. It was full of either motivational pictures or scary blog posts of women describing IVF Round #5. An hour later, my husband comes home from work and finds me sitting on the couch with my laptop, sobbing hysterically as I read one stranger’s blog after she finally found out she was indeed pregnant. Not my proudest moment, I admit. He handled it like a champ though. I knew I married this guy for a reason.
The last 20+ days have been a very emotionally draining time. We’ve found a doctor that I really like and trust (funny story, I almost kicked her in the face at my HSG). We’ve accepted what we need to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Every few days, the WHAT IFS will claw their way into the front of my brain and drag me down with them. I have a good 10 minute freak out, then I splash some cold water on my face, and try to move on with my day. But there’s one what if that I just can’t push away, no matter how hard I try.
What if I’m not strong enough for this?