“If we end up doing IVF and we have enough embryos, I plan on transferring two.” I admitted this tonight, to a very shocked R. Even with a small increase in success for a pregnancy, I’m willing to risk it because with the procedure being so expensive AND with no help from our insurance I really don’t feel like we have much of an option.
Am I frustrated? Absolutely.
Do I want to risk the potential for complications or premies? No.
Can I afford to put all my eggs in one basket? No.
And I hate it.
I despise the options or rather lack of options we have but it is what it is.
To be honest, none of this has really settled in, mostly because we’re still in the diagnostic stage but I’m trying to get ready for the disappointment and the heartache I know will come.
I’d like to be optimistic and think that we’ll be the lucky few where it all works out with one treatment but I’m realistic and so far based off the stories I’ve read and the ones I’ve been told, it’s really not that easy, and it hurts. It hurts so badly and some days I just don’t want to try anymore. Some days I just want to say forget it and live with the fact that the universe doesn’t think I was meant to be a mom.
And then there are other days. Days when I feel like fighting is the only thing that makes sense. Days when I tell the Universe, “FUCK YOU!” and I know in my bones, in my heart that we will prevail.
But right now, right now? I’m feeling utterly hopeless and wishing it wasn’t so hard.
Right now I’m desperately wishing there was a little boy or girl, cuddled next to mommy and daddy who knows without a doubt that he or she is our whole world.
Right now I’m wondering why the world is so cruel and why I can’t be the one thing I’ve always wanted to be, a mom.