When we got our first BFP, we had been trying to conceive for about seven months--a laughably short time from this vantage point but a very trying experience while I was going through it. I'd spent most of those months crying, fretting, obsessively tracking ovulation, convincing myself I was broken, and fearing the future.
And then I saw that positive test. I was ecstatic. And standing there alone in the bathroom, I remember thinking, "I can't believe it was this easy." Which is a weird first thought to have when dreams appear to be coming true after an agonizing half-year of waiting. But I couldn't. This little part of my brain-- The psychic part? The prehistoric part?--had been convinced that I was in for a long and painful road toward my first child, and when it came without intervention, without any testing, without any special effort at all, it really seemed to good to be true.
And it was.
I did not have that thought when I saw my positive peestick last month. That sense of not quite having earned this, not quite deserving it, being luckier than I think right--that's all gone. The past two years were every bit as hard as I had feared they would be when I started this trip, and that's a sad thing. But there's also an odd feeling of psychic appropriateness about it all (or fate?). I hesitate to say this is "meant to be" because I know it can all still go wrong. I hesitate to say it because I would never for a moment suggest that anyone is "meant" to lose or to have a child. It's a genetic gamble, as we all know.
But I don't feel guilty to be where I am right now. I know I haven't had the longest, the hardest, the most hopeless, or the most painful IF experience. But it was hard enough, right? And I'm ready for it to be over. Maybe I just jinxed everything but letting that wish out into the universe , but it's true.
To those still waiting: I may be back with you in the trenches soon, but I hope so much that you all join me here instead.
Reinvention of a blog
6 months ago