It seems that infertility has found me again. No matter how happy I am after this donor cycle, no matter how highly we anticipate a BFP— infertility and its emotional scars are always lurking in the wings, ready to remind me that happiness is fleeting and cannot be trusted.
Today was a tough day for Joey and I separately for work-related reasons. Nothing pressing, just day-to-day stresses. After I came home, I had to make more work calls. As I did so, I saw Joey rifling through the medications and making calls to insurance and the pharmacy. She was ordering medications. As soon as my call was over, I flew into the kitchen to ask what she was doing. She said that she was ordering more Estradiol since I had not. Anger White-hot fury flew through my entire being. Through clenched teeth, I tried to calmly explain that we have no need for more meds. But we have so little Estradiol she explained. I showed her how we have far more than we will need…. yada yada yada…. A small thing yet SO. emotionally.charged. I got angry. She got angry. She was infringing upon my territory and it hurt my heart— For her, a simple fear that we will run out of a needed medication leading to the logical step of getting a refill (and her normal tendency to be over-active without doing the homework). For me, another indication that Joey feels the need to take over another part of getting pregnant- that I cannot be trusted in this area.
We had a short spat followed by returning to our respective work tasks. An hour later, Joey found me and apologized for hurting my feelings. I apologized for over-reacting. We have been very nice to one another ever since. We are watching that singing show and each are on laptops. We are being ever so nice. We are oh-so cautiously avoiding talking about the elephant in our living room tonight. The ghost of infertility is here. This spirit has been created by my sadness at having to move on with the babymaking by a different route than my body. This ghost is not the angel in the house– much more poltergeist-like really. But we are steadfastly ignoring this spirit, no matter how the dishes rattle and the floors groan under our heavy hearts. We are carrying on as though we don’t carry all this painful baggage because we must. We must keep taking each breath and living each moment and taking one step at a time. What else is there to do really? If I could have had the babies I would. And how many partners would have indulged my need through 4 IVF attempts? We have both done all we can, and so we just let the lingering hurts sit– because we must.
*Even as I write this, I am fearful, so fearful. I worry that some cosmic spirit will hear my kvetching and will be angered. It feels as though I should JUST be grateful that I have a partner willing and able to carry a baby for me, for us. I worry that my endless sadness over my chronically empty uterus will make this DE cycle end as all the others before. I worry that all this crazy emotion will be all for naught. The interest rate on all this trouble I am borrowing is inflated beyond any ability I have to pay.