I'm a crazy person. Maybe not in the strictest clinical sense (although that too could be open to interpretation), but I'm definitely toeing the line of some interesting behavior lately.
I have about 5 different posts in draft form right now. I'm on a blogging binge, but I think my (undiagnosed, no, make that self-diagnosed) ADD is leaking out a bit. I get like this every once in a while (blogging like mad, but not landing on any one topic long enough to complete a thought or being completely indecisive) and I know exactly why this is. I am stuck in a deep mud pit in IF land trying to spin my way out. The only method I know to use for this is to process my ever-muddled thoughts here. This is my safe place, the place where I can lay a little bit of my crazy down. Thanks for that, fellow bloggers!
My thoughts have been scattered lately as I have so much going on, but at the heart of this is that I've been dragging my feet on this IVF matter. At first, right after our miscarriage, I thought I was done with treatment. No, I was sure I was done with treatment (besides something nagging in the back of my mind). I was nearly cutting a check to the adoption agency when I changed my mind on the spot and decided to give IVF another chance. Based on earlier posts, it seemed my mind was made up, right? IVF all the way, baby!! Except that now, I just can't stomach pouring that much money into a pipe dream.
I want a second child. I do. And if I could have made them show up yesterday, I would have. So, this is not my hang up. I will have another. I am a woman determined. But how??
You see, it's that goddamn financial infertility that can really define the path we take. I hate that because honestly, if money were no object, I'd be doped up on lupron as we speak, with one foot also in the adoption agency's door. Alone, IVF or adoption are both a financial stretch for us. As soon as one or the other is done, the other option is wiped off the table, too. We'll be stopped on a dime (probably quite literally). If we give birth to or adopt a baby, we'll probably be in the backyard right before they're born trying to construct a crib out of leftover twigs from our dying tree. (OK, maybe it won't be THAT bad, but in my mind's eye it feels like it will be)
With that said, some people would think we were freakin' bonkers for ever entertaining the notion of throwing that cash down. Hell, I think I'm nuts for doing it. But those people have never experienced what that kind of cash can bring. I spent far more than this in my pursuit of G and I don't regret it...AT ALL. But there's also the idea that I'm stealing from Peter to pay Paul, except that Peter is an actual child (my child, whose name is consequently not Peter) and Paul is just some fantasy child that does not yet, and might not ever, exist. I feel guilty. I mean, it's not like we'll be without a house or food or anything like that. All that will be gone will be a nest egg that provides a security we should probably have as responsible adults, but we are now responsible adults with a child. That's different. It was easier to drop a paycheck on meds back when all it affected was us.
I keep trying to repeat to myself (as I said to Mr. S last summer in my efforts to convince him to do an FET): "We have all our lives to make money but our only opportunity to make a baby is now."
And it's true. Any RE would agree that my time, well, it's pretty much up. It's time to s* or get off the pot (my Dad's expression-he was a poet, as you can see). And my Mom left me money to do just this: have another. But why can't I convince myself to move forward in either direction? It's no wonder I can't decide the simplest of things, like which blog entry to finish. I can't even figure out which direction my life is going right now.