The journey

No news.
Pisser.
Oh the waiting and waiting and waiting.
Is that all there is when it comes to IVF, adoption, children??

I remember waiting for my period after we were officially trying. Every month. Hoping I'd be waiting for 9 months, but not to be.

I remember waiting for my first fertility specialist appointment. Sitting in the examination room hoping to be told there's nothing wrong with me, just take this little pill and you'll get pregnant straight away.

I remember my first test, going to the hospital and laying on a cold metal table waiting for a late doctor. I remember him showing up and my disbelief this chest hair sticking out of a huge collared shirt with gold chains and a stash guy was going to be poking around in MY private parts. I remember immediately thinking I bet this guy was a porn star in the 70s. I remember the excruciating pain as the dye was torpedoed into my tubes. I remember being told 'this is the best time to get pregnant because everything is wide open now'.

I remember the consult discussing the mixed results of the test. 'It's a very gray area at this time. There may be some blockage here, but we can't be certain. Your best bet is to go with IVF, which would bypass any tubal issues'. I remember looking over the finance sheet and joking we could ditch the process and go buy a car.

I remember the shots.

I remember being told this would be a one shot deal. 2 embryos, I prayer.

I remember the transfer. Not the procedure, but the doctor telling me right in the middle I said out loud that if this didn't work, when I went to heaven I was going to take a piss on the pearly gates.

I remember going home and laying around for a few days. I remember thinking to myself 'Right this moment, I AM pregnant.'

I remember rushing home to answer the phone and get the news. I remember my husband doing the same. I remember getting the call on my cell phone when I was 2 miles from home. Being told the test was negative. I remember feeling as though I had to hold it together long enough to get home or I was going to run my car into the median.

I remember the look of devastation on my husband's face.

I remember restored hope, a new specialist. Someone who appeared to talk to me, not at me. Someone who appeared to be on the leading edge of technology. Willing to try new things to get the results. Someone who would not beat around the bush, but gave it to me straight.

I remember the shots.

I remember the call from the embryologist saying none of the eggs appeared to be viable. They were not multiplying. I remember not understanding what the fuck this guy was saying because of his stupid accent. I remember cursing a lot and trying desperately to get in touch with my specialist. I remember panic and anger and irritation.

I remember sitting in the waiting room for an eternity, still unclear what to expect. Would there be a transfer? Was anything left? I remember being told there were 2 possibles.

I remember laying around for a few days. I remember thinking 'Right at this moment I AM pregnant'.

I remember being told I was not.

I remember the discussion with the specialist, about how my eggs appear to be flawed. They are missing the mechanism that allows them to multiply and divide. We could keep going, hoping for one viable egg, but maybe we should look into donor eggs.

I remember waiting to get over it as much as possible.

I remember all the waiting between the memories. Each time waiting for a result, a decision, a choice. At least with the IVF process we had choices. Not many, but some. The outcome was out of our hands, but the journey was not.
Foster care is somewhat the same. I chose the color of the nursery, the crib, the ages and sex and issues of the children we will consider caring for.
But the outcome is out of our hands again.

Thus I am trying to focus on the journey. Trying to learn how to parent in practical experience, not just theory and old nanny jobs. But 24/7. Trying to enjoy whatever time we have with this funny little boy. Trying not to focus on the outcome.

And I am sooooooo full of shit.
But at least I'm trying.

The cup floweth under

As I took the time to check out my fellow bloggers current thoughts, I was struck by the most recent post by Beagle. Sorry, no computer whiz here or I'd do the thingy where you can click on the name and see what I'm talking about.
ANYHOO~

There seems to be this in-between time where we are not really sad, but not really happy. Call it an emotional limbo of sorts. Things could be worse, but could be much better. How full is your glass yadda yadda yadda.

I am currently in that limbo, from my toes to my nose.
I thought having a baby would be the IT for me. I was so sure quitting my job and being a stay at home foster parent would fill that lurking void. I don't talk about it much anymore, but the IF hole is still a pretty big chunk out of my heart and my soul. Joking about having rotten eggs is my way of coping, but behind the attempted humor, there is perpetual heartache.
And now I have succeeded in my attempt to fill the void by following through with my plan ~ quitting my job, getting licensed for foster care, decorating a nursery and a toddler room, all the plastic in all the outlets. And now a beautiful baby boy.
And i am not satisfied in the least.
OK, maybe in the least. But not as I thought I would be.

I am bored as a stay at home parent, not necessarily wishing I had kept my job, but now doubting my decision to not work. And when there's one doubt, there's sure to be another holding it's hand, and then a whole party dancing around in your head.

I realize some of this comes from the news the baby will be leaving. But in all honesty, I've not been overjoyed from the get go. At first it was being tired and the new experience and trying to make sure I was doing everything right. But still not the joy.

What is most difficult is not knowing when it will happen. When I will get hit when the thought that 'this is it and I'm happy and this is all I've ever wanted'. That moment when all seems right with the world. When some of the emotional damage I've endured by not being able to have the one thing I've always wanted fades. When I am no longer angry with my own body, or saddened by my own depression, or perpetually questioning my decisions since the ones I was so sure of are not turning out as I thought.

I can't tell if my cup is half full or half empty. But I can tell you I hope someone comes along and fills the damn thing to the rim sometime soon~ because I've been thirsty a long time.