Throwing myself a pity party

I’m sad, I’m tired. I’m sick and tired of feeling sad and tired. I know most of you can relate to this, we all hit this bump in the road, at some point. How can we not? I am laying low waiting for it to pass. It usually does, but never fast enough for me.

C. and I have been at odds. For some couples infertility brings them closer, but I am guessing for most it at least strains the marriage. We all have different ways of coping. It feel rather disconnected from him right now, but then I feel rather disconnected from myself too.

I am finally, now facing the what if of this never working. What if I never have a child? What if I am never a mother? What if this what if becomes my reality? What then? I have geared my whole life towards this goal of motherhood. It was to be my full time job. I suddenly find myself unemployed in a matter of speaking. I dead ended my “real” career (OR nurse) to putter around in the family business in order to have a schedule compatible with motherhood in the near future. Now the near future has come and gone, so has my desire to be a nurse again and in another 1-2 years my father retires and then that job is over as well. What will I do then? I have no idea. I had never thought of a plan B for this because motherhood was a given. Well, I ASSumed it was. Never assume.

So, I am trying to come to grips not only with another failed IVF, the financial mess that the attempts so far have created and the dim prospects ahead. I am also trying to come to grips with the idea of redefining myself and my life if motherhood is not in the cards for me.

I have spoken about adoption at various junctures. We have not ruled it out. C. was never very excited about it and if we do pursue it, it will be 95% my job, just like IVF has been. So it is a matter of whether I can and / or want to summon up the energy to tackle something as challenging as the adoption process on my own as well. (Forgive me if, now and again, I wonder why I am married.) Parenting an adopted child appeals to me as it always has. Jumping through the hoops to get there with my current state of emptiness is hard to imagine. Our counselor suggests a year off to “Mourn” before embarking on the next challenge. The thing is, I don’t feel like I have that kind of time to spare.

Maybe the passing of a few more weeks will heal my heart enough to see this all in a new, fresh light. But for now I am really tired and I can’t think much beyond getting through the FET and the next failure that is sure to follow. (Yes, I might want to summon up a better attitude in the next few weeks!) Hope has been so cruel lately, that I have not invited her back to my house since her last nasty trick.

I want to wish you all well, but I know it’s a mixed bag out there. Some losses, some wins and some holding on to hope as best they can. That’s all we can do. Such a cliche . . . but take it one day at a time.

In my more mundane news: I dragged myself to the gym this morning and guess what? They are going out of business! I was so bummed about this. There are other gyms in town, but they are more expensive and also none of them are small and comfortable and women only type settings (while still being a “real” gym). Then later in the day I called to see if I could get into a pottery workshop that I wanted to take but did not sign up for sooner “in case IVF#2 worked!” and now it is full. I could really have used that escape from life and also the creative boost. Oh well, there goes that plan.

So, I cried. Sad, but true. These sorts of things make me cry right now. I feel like I am not allowed to have a break on anything fun. This is not really true, but from here in my pit of despair, it “feels” true.

Brief cat update: poor Oscar is still sick. Sneezing feline snot everywhere. I keep him isolated most of the time, but it is hard, he cries so pitifully. He must not feel as sick as he seems. When I let him out he runs full speed everywhere, sneezing all the way. I get the heebie jeebies when I allow my mind to imagine the germs all over my house. The vet promised they are not people affecting germs but I have my doubts. A germ is a germ is a virus in my book. Tomorrow is his last antibiotics, so I will call the vet again and see where we go from here if he is not better in the morning. Sigh.

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23 Responses to “Throwing myself a pity party”

  1. EJW Says:

    As a microbiologist, I have to say: if Oscar is on antibiotics, it’s not viral. (Unless your vet is really wacked out.) He probably is sneezing viruses all over the place, since they’re in his little nose all the time, but that’s not what’s making him sick.

    More importantly, I hope you feel better soon. We all know, too well, that hopeless ennui and it sounds like your healthy attempts to deal with it are being thwarted (the gym and the pottery class). I saw this quote on the Strollercoaster and it really helped me (but if you hate it, chalk it up to assvice):

    Everything will work out in the end. If it hasn’t worked out yet, it’s not the end.

  2. soralis Says:

    Sending you a big hug.

    Take care

  3. Lindy Says:

    I’m just so sorry, Beagle. And so angry that you’re going through this.

  4. Lisa Says:

    Hey! That’s me and my quote! Cool! I’m glad you like it ejw.

    Beagle…what can I say? I’m thinking about you and I hope you find some peace and happiness soon.

  5. zhl Says:

    We have all been there even if it’s no fun. And don’t worry about you and the husband. While I think ultimately infertility has brought us closer, we had some very strained times along the way, and I’m sure more to come.

    Pulling up a virtual chair to the party.

  6. daysgoby Says:

    B-
    Sending you love.

    And poor Oscar! Allergies?

  7. DD Says:

    I would say that infertility is like a rubberband for most couples: it gets stretched and stretched to a certain limit and then it bounces back and brings the ends closer together.

    Believe me when I say I understand how you feel. There are bad days and there will be better days. Talk about a cliche’.

  8. the waiting line Says:

    I know how you feel. hope things look brighter for you soon.

  9. seattlegal Says:

    I know exactly how you feel. I’m sorry all of us have to go through this. Take care.

  10. Pamplemousse Says:

    It is definitely like a rubberband. I am sure even my beloved hubs gets utterly sick of me when all I can do is cry doom and gloom. He has just a different wau of coping with it all.

    What I have learnt the hard way after all these years is never postpone anything because of the what ifs. As you have found, it is worse when you need a distraction but you made an earlier decision based on PG what ifs and then you are left thinking “Aaargh”.

    You will come up the other side of the trough and feel more optimistic about ongoing treatment. This is all part of the normal grieving process for a failed cycle, of which IVF has the deepest trough after failure. Thinking of you, sweetie.

  11. MoMo Says:

    Beagle….I wish I was there to give you a real hug. I am so sorry it’s been so hard and I remember feeling like this whole thing is eating me up. I hope you feel better soon. Thinking of you!

  12. Leggy Says:

    I have been having similar thoughts- obviously not the “will I ever be a mother”, but the “why did I stall my career”, “why do I have to carry all the IF/adoption burden”, “where is my marriage going?” Are there other new outlets you could look into? Something you’ve never done before? What about just making a point of doing something fun every weekend- going to the beach, seeing friends, etc.? I’m sorry it sucks so much…

  13. Alli Says:

    I can relate. Hope you are feeling better soon. And Oscar, too!

  14. Thalia Says:

    It is bloody miserable, isn’t it, when path after path doesn’t work out. I’m sorry you’re also handling so much of it alone, do you know why C is so off-hand about it?

  15. Allie Says:

    Delurking to say that I know how you feel. I’m currently in my own FET cycle – transfer is in 2 days. I am nervous too about the what ifs. We all do it. I think it’s very normal – so a pity party every once in awhile (or more!) is OK in my book.

  16. Mary Ellen and Steve Says:

    I am so sorry that you are going through this. You are in my thoughts. Hugs!

  17. Meg Says:

    Beagle, a good pity party never hurt anyone…It is good to see you venting so articulately. I hope you feel better soon. Sounds like empty words, but it’s not. x

  18. Ellen K. Says:

    I’m sorry. I too have been burdened by all the “what ifs” of late. I think this is the trench warfare stage of IF.

    I hope you and Oscar feel better soon.

  19. Just another Jenny Says:

    The little disapointments (gym closing, full pottery class) are hard to deal with when you already have had such a major disappointment. You went through an awful time with that cycle, it’s too bad C isn’t being more supportive.

  20. Chas Says:

    I’m so sorry about everything! It sucks to feel like you’ll never be a mother; I remember the feeling very well. I would think of adoption and had the same mixed feelings you have. Then I’d have to pick myself up and tell myself that somehow eventually I would be a mother. Ugg..I feel for you.

  21. Barely Sane Says:

    Uggg, the little disappointments almost do me in. I promised myself not to stop doing stuff anymore. Yeah right!

    I understand your fears right now – I struggled with them a few months ago. Dont push yourself to make decisions – when the time is right, they’ll be clear. (I know it sounds like assvice but I swear that’s how it was for me).

    I’m sorry things are rough. Wish I could change it for you, but I cant. I’ll just send you a huge cyber hug instead.

    Take care!

  22. sube Says:

    Yes, crying at the most minor things. That sounds all too familiar. I’m sorry this is such a rough time for you. I wish there was a way to make it better. Sending you hugs.

  23. Lucy Says:

    Well, even if you never want to go back to OR nursing, that doesn’t mean you can’t find something else to do with your nursing skills. You might feel fresh again in another type of clinical setting (floor, office, university health center) or another type of job (triage for something like American Cancer Society, marketing for a nursing publication, etc.). Or you could go back to school and get your Master’s – become an NP. And maybe you want to scrap nursing altogether – maybe it holds no appeal at all. But at least you know there are plenty of options if you do want to stay in.

    Maybe this was not helpful at all. But as a fellow RN, I thought I’d toss some ideas in there.

    Sorry that you are having a hard time right now. Never in my life have I felt the gap between men and women as markedly as I have throughout my own infertility struggles. Husbands are gold … and they are also a different species altogether.

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