I've spent almost the last year (more if you count pregnancy) floating in a state of happy non-treatment. I cannot tell you how freeing and normalizing it felt to distance myself from anything that resembled a needle or a clinic waiting room or stirrups or two week waits so that when I sat in front of my RE today, I was surprised to be so completely reminded.
I'm infertile. Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.
I mean, I didn't really almost forget, but the sick feeling of dysfunction, the overwhelming costs and treatment plans, the slippery grip on hope feeling like I may be getting back on this treadmill for nothing, well, it all came back again.
And suddenly my plans to organize Fuck Infertility Vegas 2011 (see below, especially if you're interested in joining us) took on a new meaning, new life. This visit breathed new fire into my hatred for infertility and all that it has robbed from me and my bloggy/real life friends. I was reminded that this is what it feels like to be infertile. It was nice to pretend that it didn't exist for a moment, but this afternoon was my return. I remembered life before my dream came true and although logic may convince others that we have a shot at a second child given the success of our first IVF, the years before little G dominate and convince me that it's likely all for naught and at once I'm defeated again.
Damn you, infertility. No, fuck you infertility.
Don't get me wrong. I am not defeated in the way I once was. I am over the top blessed with Little G, but this post is not about what is but about the memories and the mark they left on my heart. And the mark they continue to carve into the hearts of those I care about. My years of infertility taught me to think in such a specific, cautious, and even negative way. And it is such a wretched feeling to sit in that chair again.
You're probably wondering what brought us back to the clinic. #2? Well, yes, but not yet. I had no intentions of returning so soon (and trust me, I feel that almost 2 years is quite soon), but we recently met our high deductible on our new insurance and diagnostics are covered 80% until December 31st, so this is just about getting that over with to get more bang for our buck for future use. I'm not sure when that will be. We have two frozens--1 shot before we must return to discussion of a possible fresh and I recently learned that my Mother started menopause in her late 30's, so as far as I'm concerned, that clock truly is ticking.
In the mean time, I invite all of you pomegranate string-wearing, infertility-fighting lovely ladies to join me and my infertility sisterhood peeps in Vegas this Spring. We haven't nailed down a date yet, but late March is looking likely. Hate infertility? Let's toast! Loathe big needles full of progesterone in your bum? Put a few dollar bills in that Australian stripper guys thong.
Yeah, it's going to be that kind of trip. And you, my friend, are invited.**
**(more details to come)
PS For those that have requested access to my private blog...I'm sorry! I'm a spaz! I totally lost the login. I'll find it somewhere. I could use that therapy hour right about now...