I have not blogged in a long time. I haven’t felt like it. Sorry. Life gets in the way, and I haven’t felt like it.
The last few weeks have been busy. What with Penn State and the end of volleyball season, and my failing fertility, it has been nuts. I have not wanted to blog because I have not been able to make sense of the mess in my head enough to put pen to paper — or in this case, fingers to keyboard.
Recently, I have come to a crossroads. Inertia is killing me. I need to get moving. Not just physically, although dotGod knows, I am in definite need of a run or three hundred. But I am also in need of motion emotionally, spiritually, mentally. I am stuck. I am in a rut. I am paralysed. And so, I have got to make some decisions, or I will go mad.
I have been sitting here, waiting on my body to do something to help us on our way to having a child. I have very carefully and faithfully followed four courses of IUI. And my body has failed me. No baby. And now, the money has run out. We had actually believed that it would work, and being off work, it was the perfect time to devote my time and energy to this. Well, it failed. I failed. And I do not have a job, and money is tight. So for the last few weeks, I have been dealing with the death of our dream of children.
For you see, when you are infertile, if you have no money, you have no dreams. You can no longer afford them. It will cost us $10,000 to do one cycle — ONE CYCLE — of IVF. Which is actually fine, because after I turn 40, they will not allow me into the program anyway. And I turn 40 in 6 months. And to adopt an infant, domestically or internationally, the costs start at $10,000. If I went to China, well then, it would be about $25,000. Either way, we cannot afford to have more debt, even if it is just $10,000 more. When you are drowning in debt, what’s another $10,000 more, you say? Well, if I am not working, we haven’t got enough money to pay it back. And by the time I find a job, I may be out of time anyway. So the way is beginning to look a bit clearer.
So I asked the Big Damn Hero, can we please talk about it. I need to make a decision. I cannot sit in limbo anymore. If we cannot have children, so be it. But I need to have a decision made, so I can begin to deal with it. I need to cry for a few weeks and then be done with it. Move on. I can deal with the knowledge that I will not have children, that old age will be a lonely time, that I will die alone, if I can just decide and get the grieving process over with. And so, I asked him can we please make a decision.
He is not prepared to give up hope. He is younger than I am. Despite all medical evidence to the contrary, he still thinks we could magically conceive naturally. He is sweet in his innocence. He’s still got some hope, some idealism. He has not been dealing with the pain as long as I have, since it has only just recently begun to sink in for him. He’s only just recently discovered the hurt and the anger and the unfairness of it all. But we talked, and we agreed that we cannot afford the costs of trying any further to have our own child, nor can we afford to adopt.
So, good. So we will be a childless couple. I can begin to wrap my head around this. I can cry and grieve and try to piece together an existence without children. I CAN do it. I just needed a place to start. I just needed some sort of firm decision. I need to start living outside this bubble of infertility again, or I will die.
And then, I got approved for unemployment benefits yesterday. It means $400 a week until next April. And now my idealist husband thinks we can afford to scrape through IVF. So sweet, so hopeful, he is.
And I am paralysed again.