I admit, I have the urge to blog, but I'm just not sure what to say. Do I go on and on about how excited I am? How nervous I am? How freaking scared I am about every little cramp and twinge? I'm not sure.
First off, I would like to say that if you would like to stop following me now, feel free. I totally understand. If it saves your sanity, do it.
I am so scared. I'm not scared about being a parent. Not yet, anyway. No, I am so scared something is going to go wrong. I'm afraid of walking in on Monday and finding my beta has dropped. I'm afraid of going in for my first sonogram and not seeing anything. I'm afraid of not hearing a heartbeat. I'm afraid of hearing a hearbeat and losing it. There are a million things I'm terrified of, and I'm only 5 weeks pregnant.
On top of that, I'm angry. I'm angry that normal (read: non-IFers) women probably don't have 99% of the fears I have. I'm angry that they get to take a pregnancy test, see a positive and not feel the need to take 5 more, just in case. They can call up, schedule an ultrasound, and float through the next 9 months without being constantly scared.
I think I'm going to have to stop reading the LFCA. I check it every day and always read every blog posted on there for the day. I leave comments when I can and send silent support and prayers when I have nothing to say. I checked it Tuesday when we got home and it multiplied my fears. I just can't handle reading about miscarriages and missing hearbeats and lost pregnancies. I feel terrible and selfish for it, but I figure I'm scared enough as it is.
I'm sorry this post is so disjointed. I guess I have a lot on my mind.
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
What IF
This post is part of Project IF.
*Note: I have been working on this for days, so I'm sorry if it's disjointed or I'm rambling.
In the last six months, ever since we landed on this awful Infertile Island, there have only been about a million "What IFs" running through my head. They range from the silly:
OMG! What if the sperm donor has crazy messed-up eyebrows like the dude at the Chinese buffet last night? What if my children have crazy messed-up eyebrows like that?
to the serious:
What if there are problems with me too? It's beginning to look like there are. What if picking a donor wasn't the hardest part? What if I have to accept that both of us are infertile?
But there are two major "What IFs" that I keep coming back to. Two that plague me, that keep me awake at night, that keep me from following conversations and laughing at jokes. And because I can't get either of them to stop tearing through my mind, I'll explore both of them. The first one is easier for me to write about. The second one I have no words for, but I will try to find some.
WHAT IF infertility changes who I am?
The name I write my blog under is OnceIWas. You see, I was a super hero once.
That's right. Once, I was invincible. Once, I was ready to take on the world.
Once, I was confident. I was happy. I was goofy. I was laid-back and un-shakeable. I wasn't the kind of person to get worked up over anything.
I miss that person.
What IF I am stuck as this bitter, angry, jealous, depressed person? What IF I never go back to the way I was? What IF I spend the rest of my life constantly jealous of fertile couples? What IF every pregnancy announcement and growing baby bump brings back my anger towards God; towards life? What IF I can never do anything without this cloud of worry hanging over me? What IF, because of infertility, I am a shadow of who I used to be?
Now the hard one:
WHAT IF my husband wants to stop before I'm ready?
This particular fear of mine didn't actually occur to me until last Thursday. We had already gone from our RE thinking that I would get pregnant with no problems to him thinking that I wasn't going to ovulate on my own. We watched our unmedicated cycle triple in price as we added medicine and a trigger shot. Then, on Thursday afternoon, we were told by the doctor that the medicine wasn't doing the trick, and we would need to move on to injectables, which again tripled our costs. The first words out of my husband's mouth were "Sounds like it's time to look at adoption." I am fine with adoption, but all it took was one cycle that didn't work, and he was ready to stop everything.
That's just the way his brain operates. He has a budget and a time frame for everything. But, What IF his budget and time frame don't match mine?
There's one very important fact I've left out that makes this WHAT IF seem a little more imminent, and a little more real. To my 26 year old mind, we still have plenty of time. To my husband's 43 year old mind, we have less than 2 years. 45 is the age most adoption agencies seem to make the cut off. If we can't get pregnant, we'd like to adopt. But it would have to be in the next couple years. And, at this point, if we had a child in the next couple years, my husband would be in his 60's by the time the kid graduates.
My dreams of four children are gone. I know that. I know that right now, we'll be lucky to have one. But, What IF he wants to stop before that? What IF, at the age of 43 or 44 or 45, he decides he's done? What on Earth will I do then?
It's hard to think of any positive What IFs, but here are a few:
What IF this is all just a bad dream? (HA)
What IF it turns out I was just too stressed, and this month off gets everything back to normal, and we don't have to pay truckloads of money for each and every cycle?
What IF I get pregnant this summer?
What IF I have a beautiful baby next year?
What IF everything works out as it should, and all of my current fears become laughable?
What IF my sperm donor looks like Colin Firth, and I have gorgeous babies? (I still have a little goof-ball in me, I guess)
If you're new here, or just aren't sure what Project IF is:
For a basic understanding of infertility, click here.
To learn more about NIAW, click here.
To see Part One of Project IF, click here. I'm in there somewhere.
*Note: I have been working on this for days, so I'm sorry if it's disjointed or I'm rambling.
In the last six months, ever since we landed on this awful Infertile Island, there have only been about a million "What IFs" running through my head. They range from the silly:
OMG! What if the sperm donor has crazy messed-up eyebrows like the dude at the Chinese buffet last night? What if my children have crazy messed-up eyebrows like that?
to the serious:
What if there are problems with me too? It's beginning to look like there are. What if picking a donor wasn't the hardest part? What if I have to accept that both of us are infertile?
But there are two major "What IFs" that I keep coming back to. Two that plague me, that keep me awake at night, that keep me from following conversations and laughing at jokes. And because I can't get either of them to stop tearing through my mind, I'll explore both of them. The first one is easier for me to write about. The second one I have no words for, but I will try to find some.
WHAT IF infertility changes who I am?
The name I write my blog under is OnceIWas. You see, I was a super hero once.
That's right. Once, I was invincible. Once, I was ready to take on the world.
Once, I was confident. I was happy. I was goofy. I was laid-back and un-shakeable. I wasn't the kind of person to get worked up over anything.
I miss that person.
What IF I am stuck as this bitter, angry, jealous, depressed person? What IF I never go back to the way I was? What IF I spend the rest of my life constantly jealous of fertile couples? What IF every pregnancy announcement and growing baby bump brings back my anger towards God; towards life? What IF I can never do anything without this cloud of worry hanging over me? What IF, because of infertility, I am a shadow of who I used to be?
Now the hard one:
WHAT IF my husband wants to stop before I'm ready?
This particular fear of mine didn't actually occur to me until last Thursday. We had already gone from our RE thinking that I would get pregnant with no problems to him thinking that I wasn't going to ovulate on my own. We watched our unmedicated cycle triple in price as we added medicine and a trigger shot. Then, on Thursday afternoon, we were told by the doctor that the medicine wasn't doing the trick, and we would need to move on to injectables, which again tripled our costs. The first words out of my husband's mouth were "Sounds like it's time to look at adoption." I am fine with adoption, but all it took was one cycle that didn't work, and he was ready to stop everything.
That's just the way his brain operates. He has a budget and a time frame for everything. But, What IF his budget and time frame don't match mine?
There's one very important fact I've left out that makes this WHAT IF seem a little more imminent, and a little more real. To my 26 year old mind, we still have plenty of time. To my husband's 43 year old mind, we have less than 2 years. 45 is the age most adoption agencies seem to make the cut off. If we can't get pregnant, we'd like to adopt. But it would have to be in the next couple years. And, at this point, if we had a child in the next couple years, my husband would be in his 60's by the time the kid graduates.
My dreams of four children are gone. I know that. I know that right now, we'll be lucky to have one. But, What IF he wants to stop before that? What IF, at the age of 43 or 44 or 45, he decides he's done? What on Earth will I do then?
It's hard to think of any positive What IFs, but here are a few:
What IF this is all just a bad dream? (HA)
What IF it turns out I was just too stressed, and this month off gets everything back to normal, and we don't have to pay truckloads of money for each and every cycle?
What IF I get pregnant this summer?
What IF I have a beautiful baby next year?
What IF everything works out as it should, and all of my current fears become laughable?
What IF my sperm donor looks like Colin Firth, and I have gorgeous babies? (I still have a little goof-ball in me, I guess)
If you're new here, or just aren't sure what Project IF is:
For a basic understanding of infertility, click here.
To learn more about NIAW, click here.
To see Part One of Project IF, click here. I'm in there somewhere.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Fears, Doubts, and Nightmares
I had a nightmare. One of my worst.
I dreamed someone gave me a baby to take care of. A boy, named Michael.
And I forgot about him... Every once in a while, I would remember that there was a baby upstairs that I needed to take care of. So I would go hunt and find him under the crib or the couch. But I would put him down and go off and do something else.
Then, at some point, it dawned on me that THERE WAS A BABY in the house!
I ran upstairs, freaking out that this poor baby had been so neglected under my care. I found him, picked him up, and realized that there was nothing in the house for him to eat except 1 jar of baby food, which of course he couldn't eat as a newborn. So I made up my mind to take him to the nearest superstore for some food and another set of clothes, when I realized I didn't have a way to take him with me. No baby carrier. I sat and cried in my dream because I couldn't decide which was worse: to continue to let him starve, or put him in more danger by driving to the store with him laying in the passenger seat.
Thankfully, I woke up. But I've been plagued with "What-if's" ever since.
What if the dream was a message?
What if IF has happened because I would actually be a terrible mother?
What if IF has happened because, despite my desire to have kids, I've never looked forward to pregnancy?
What if IF has happened because I joked too many times about another man with straight hair fathering my children?
What if IF has happened because deep in the back of my mind, I hoped my babies wouldn't inherit my husband's dark eye circles?
What if I am too shallow to be a mother, because of these thoughts?
What if I just don't deserve children?
What if I never have children?
What if...
What if...
What if...
I dreamed someone gave me a baby to take care of. A boy, named Michael.
And I forgot about him... Every once in a while, I would remember that there was a baby upstairs that I needed to take care of. So I would go hunt and find him under the crib or the couch. But I would put him down and go off and do something else.
Then, at some point, it dawned on me that THERE WAS A BABY in the house!
I ran upstairs, freaking out that this poor baby had been so neglected under my care. I found him, picked him up, and realized that there was nothing in the house for him to eat except 1 jar of baby food, which of course he couldn't eat as a newborn. So I made up my mind to take him to the nearest superstore for some food and another set of clothes, when I realized I didn't have a way to take him with me. No baby carrier. I sat and cried in my dream because I couldn't decide which was worse: to continue to let him starve, or put him in more danger by driving to the store with him laying in the passenger seat.
Thankfully, I woke up. But I've been plagued with "What-if's" ever since.
What if the dream was a message?
What if IF has happened because I would actually be a terrible mother?
What if IF has happened because, despite my desire to have kids, I've never looked forward to pregnancy?
What if IF has happened because I joked too many times about another man with straight hair fathering my children?
What if IF has happened because deep in the back of my mind, I hoped my babies wouldn't inherit my husband's dark eye circles?
What if I am too shallow to be a mother, because of these thoughts?
What if I just don't deserve children?
What if I never have children?
What if...
What if...
What if...
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