I’m also coming to terms with the fact that I honestly have no idea what I’m willing to do or what my “I quit” point really is.
Hubby and I touched on this with our (brilliant) psychologist in our last appointment, but I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.
Maybe because I knew from Day 1 that IVF was the option, it was always on the table. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I expected multiple cycles, but I think I mentally glossed over the implied failures that would mean a multiple. I’m pretty sure I figured it would be three.
Three always seems like a fair number: third time’s the charm, after all. My life seemingly revolves around threes. Some are more random but I was born the third month after my three siblings. I always guess 3 when given 1-5. There were three threes in my first home telephone number as well as my current cell. In the sadder aspect of threes, Hubby’s dad passed away after three weeks of illness and it felt like the right amount of time if we weren’t going to get him back. Three weeks later, my dad was ready for hospice. Three weeks after that he passed. 3-3-3.
Our third cycle resulted in a pregnancy but the loss broke me. Three strikes, I was out: out of strength, out of hope, out of joy.
Three failed attempts seemed like all we could manage, and I think that was what I had planned on. That was my “no more”. That was the end of the line. I couldn’t have children of my own. Egg donation wasn’t an option for me. I was done.
Then as time went on and tremendous amounts of healing took place, that hard line became a little flimsy. I owe so much of my healing to a mix of our professional help, irreplaceable acquaintances turned friends who revisited their own pain to help me find my way out of the darkness, and coworkers who not only made me feel comfortable enough to open up but also those who could relate and accepted me without question. All of these women are my angels.
Now, my solid black magic marker line has faded to a gray area. I’m not a big fan of gray. I’m not comfortable with ambiguity. I’m a planner. I map out how to get to every destination and need to know how long it should take to get there. If I get a new illness or injury, I need to webmd its causes, treatments, and how long it should take to resolve. I’m only now beginning to accept that my limits are much more fluid a concept.
I don’t think I’m ready to live a life with no plan for children. Doesn’t leave many options other than to try again. If taking home a healthy little person means egg donation, that thing I said I could never do, then looks like we’re going to have to look into it. Thankfully the doctors have one last protocol to try to harness the potential of my little ovaries before we have to move to that option.
If you take anything from this rambling, let it be that you might never reach a line drawn in the proverbial sand, but even if you do, it’s ok to let the tide wash it away and draw a new line. Nobody will judge you. Try not to judge yourself as you find yourself saying and doing things you never thought you would.
On that note, I can’t believe what I’m about to say: I think I might be ready to try again.