Day Twenty-Nine-ish: The Dog Days

After another day of stomach-crunching gut rot, I admit it. This cycle is dragging on REALLY long. There’s way too much time to think and be peevish.

There is a point in this process where you just get tired. Tired of the exams, tired of the needles, tired of the drugs, tired of being tired. Tired of the hormonal craziness. Tired of getting your hopes up, even though you swear you won’t. Tired of failure. I am tired, and I’m just sitting here swallowing a stinking pill each day.

I don’t know how women (or their partners, for that matter) can go through this process for years and years. A wise doctor friend of mine and I were chatting about it yesterday, and in her experience, the need to do this for years goes beyond the desire to conceive and into mental illness territory. I can see that. How do people continue to put themselves through this, willingly? How do they go into massive debt to continue doing many cycles? I want to have kids more than anything, but I could not do it. I could not see us living with that much debt — at around $8000 per cycle, we can barely afford the one cycle we are doing — but people have been known to go into massive debt to chase this dream. And it is exhausting. Your body is bombarded with drugs and all your natural hormones are stopped or started or controlled or enhanced. You take many, many trips to laboratories and clinics. You experience huge emotional highs and devastating lows. You talk a lot. You analyse a lot. You cry a lot.

There comes a time where you just have to cut bait. You have to decide that you’ve done all you can and it is time to move on. I am not saying that is an easy decision to come to. I think it will be agonizing. But you do have to make that decision.

In the meantime, I have decided that being a big sucky-baby is the order of the day. I have moved on from the nausea of weeks 1 through 3, moved through a blissful few side-effect-free days, and have moved on to stomach pains and headaches. BAH. Only 7 more pills to go before the next ultrasound. I hope that the pills do their job. I am kind of dreading the alternative. And BDH is struggling with the optimism party line these days, because he is feeling pretty tired as well. Although he did suggest that we get the baby’s room cleaned out and get the furniture we bought way back when put together and ready for a new occupant. I thought that was kind of sweet. But I think I’ll wait. Just for self-preservation’s sake.

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