...and make it all okay overnight. Or in an hour, for that matter. I had a second session with my IF counselor (Dr. S) last night, and while I certainly feel better, I don't necessarily have all the answers. If anything, I'm left with more questions and pathways for dialogue with my husband.
I find myself in a position where only one of us can be truly happy right now. If we pursued donor IVF right now, we would do so at the sacrifice of Ari's readiness. If we wait and stick with our timeline (May of 2011), then we sacrifice some of my emotional stamina in the process. And unfortunately, there is no middle ground, no 50-50 compromise that satisfies both our needs and desires simultaneously. And seeing as how Ari is starting his own company in a matter of weeks, it would probably be pretty silly to blow our savings on IVF right now.
But the yearning - I like the way my counselor described it last night- the yearning is so constant. And she articulated a feeling I've had for months at this point: I see pregnancy and childbirth not so much as a necessity, or a measure of "keeping up with the Joneses." For me, these things are healing. I see them as rights to a fundamental wrong. I see a big round belly not as a competitive commodity, like another engagement ring or a wedding dress - rather, I see it as the bandage, the salve on a deep wound.
If I knew, for a fact, that in May of 2011 we'd go the IVF route and bam! it would work no problem, that 9 months from then I'd come home with a child to call our own, I think I'd be able to manage my feelings, this yearning a little bit better. I think my sense of urgency comes from the fact of NOT knowing this. Donor recruitment could take longer than expected. Blastocysts might not make it to Day 5. Emryos don't stick. I could miscarry because of my Hashi's. It is terrifying to think of all the ways this is simply not guaranteed. And when Ari gets so fixated on our timeline, it frustrates me b/c I see so many variables that could throw off the entire plan by not just a couple of months, but whole years.
For now, all I can do is manage my feelings as best as I can, and realize that yes, I am still grieving and that no it doesn't necessarily get any easier, but I have an amazing husband and a great support network of friends and family, and that perhaps, I should fill my time a little more. Dive into work a bit more. Get even more excited about our 2-week trip to Japan next week. Maybe finish that California scrapbook I started months ago. Dr. S even suggested that I should start looking around at donors or clinics. It's not like I'm setting something in stone, just researching. Getting a feel for the eventual process that we'll both engage in.
And part of me is like, hm good idea! And another part of me sees that as giving up hope, like I'm admitting defeat. Dr. S said the grieving doesn't even really kick in that hard until couples pick a donor, b/c the woman feels as though she's selecting her "replacement." I think of it like a Polaroid picture fading out - the image of a child that's half me, half Ari - fading away. And I'm just not at a place to let go of that image. All the books and advice out there says to write a letter to the child that will never be, and I'm just not at a place to do that yet. Like I said, I feel like it's giving up; I've been a fighter all my life and this is no different.
Dr. S pointed out something interesting, that kind of took me by surprise. If Ari called my bluff right now, and said, "Yes! Let's do it. Let's go ahead with everything, right now" ...would I do it? I was taken aback by this, and honestly I don't know. I think I might hem and haw for a little bit, wrestling all of the uncomfortable emotions that come with committing to a process like this, but I'd dive in. Well, that's what I tell myself. I really don't know how I'd react to that kind of calling out.
So for now, I get sad, and I let myself sit with the sadness. Pull up the iPod, put on a little Michael Giacchino LOST or UP soundtracks, maybe some Radiohead (True Love Waits and Videotape get me every time), or even a little classical. Sometimes I get very hopeful and think about the future 10 years from now, and I savor that optimism. Sometimes I get really scared, and I face those fears for as long as I can stand it at the moment: maybe a few minutes, maybe a few seconds.
I am so blessed to have a husband who gets my need for all of these emotions, and who will cry with me, smile and laugh with me, and hold me when I get scared.
I just take it all a day at a time, b/c really, I can't do any more than that right now.
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