My originally scheduled FET *would* have been today (if all went according to plan). But, it didn't. You know what they say about the best laid plans...
Except that instead of pointing my finger at some whore-bag cyst or lab error or something to that effect, I'm going to chalk this one up to life. And life, well, she's been a bit of a bitch lately.
When I made the decision to go forward with our frozens, it was just a few months past my mother's death. Perhaps an outsider might have determined that I was being a bit hasty there, but that outsider might not have been privy to a laundry list of other details that seemed to make the timing ideal, not the least of which is my steadily disappearing fertility (if it was ever there to begin with) and the fact that it was scheduled smack dab in the middle of my 6 weeks of summer vacation. Perfect, right?
What I didn't anticipate, though, was that there was a competing laundry list of reasons why the timing was absolutely awful, all of which I was blinded to until more recently.
At the beginning of the list: my stomach. My doc and I have suspected an ulcer for at least a year now. Fatty foods, alcohol, stress=a gnawing, burning pit of fire in my gut. Right before I was slated to start my cycle, my GI issues were kicked into high gear and I decided at the suggestion of an acupuncturist (certainly not the beeyotch I dealt with before!) to tackle those first. I was really bummed, but decided to postpone the cycle for a month.
And then Mr. S did something to his toe. We're not sure what, but I can tell you that it has rendered him almost completely unable to move around for almost a month. While our help with childcare has been limited to nil, I have found myself unable to go to acupuncture appointments and feeling really isolated and overwhelmed with parenting much of the time on my own. While I have made efforts to get out of the house and involve my son in social activities, the truth is, I don't have much in the way of family and quite frankly, friends, at least locally.
Perhaps this isolation is exacerbated by the absence of one of the most important people in my life, a reality I am still trying so hard to wrap my head around. I am still so frequently shocked at how raw and new the pain still is over losing my Mom. I truly believe I underestimated the weight I am still carrying. It can expertly mask itself, but make no mistake-it is a power player.
Here I was, in the middle of what should have been perfectly unblemished summer days strolling in the sunshine with my miracle baby, but instead I've been overcome with fatigue, anger, loneliness. I've been here before and it's not a good place. So, with that being said, I am not at the top of my game for the child I already have, so why in the world would I even consider adding someone else right now?
I went to my doctor (primary care) today who I have long suspected was a fellow IFer (I've been trying to align myself to get 'the confession'). Sure enough, she is. When I shared my concerns about my physical and mental health, she recommended that I ignore my clock and take care of me first. Yes, she pulled out the "you can adopt" card, but I allowed her this pass as that's exactly what she did. And you know, whether that's our destiny or maybe these frozens will take or whatever, it gave me a fair amount of peace because the look on her face was one of fulfillment and not at all matching what I felt-a place of constant worry and despair.
So, the short story is, I am voluntarily postponing our FET until I feel it is time. That could be another two months or perhaps longer. I won't know until I reach it. Living in this uncertainty is maddening for a planner like me, but I refuse to waste my last chance. While circumstances will never be perfect, there's certainly a lot of room for improvement.