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.