As the months have gone by, I've experienced a diminishing in my ability to believe that I can actually get pregnant. I'm not sure when this shift occurred, but somewhere along the way I have lost faith. I realized it tonight. I cannot honestly say that I believe there's still a chance. I try to talk as though I believe, but when I am honest with myself, I realize that I don't. I can remember some times along the way when I still really believed it would eventually happen. So when did I lose that optimism? And more importantly, why have I let it go??
If I am going to inject myself with high powered fertility drugs for 10 days straight, you would think I would be doing so with the belief that it could actually work. Otherwise, what sense would it make? It's like I am just going through the motions at this point, and that worries me. The mind controls the body, so I need to convince my mind that my body can get pregnant again. How do I do that??
I think I know the key, but it scares me. As long as I don't believe it's possible to get pregnant, seeing negative pregnancy tests doesn't hurt quite as much. It's almost like I've found a way to control the situation. It's a defense mechanism. If I really let myself believe again, the pain is so much worse. But I think I need to do it if I am really going to give this a fair chance to work.
But letting go and allowing myself to believe is really hard. Really, really hard. My desire to self preserve is strong. I have a life to live, a job to do, a child to raise, and a husband to love. I can't afford to be falling apart. I think I've been in denial for a long time about how I am going to feel when we reach the end of the road. Knowing that we have maybe 2-3 medicated cycles left before Dr. Dunn tells us that medicine has nothing more to offer is both relieving and daunting. I've been thinking that I'll be okay when it's over. At least then I'll know the answer and I'll be able to move on. But the truth is, I am afraid I'll be devastated.
This whole journey has changed things. It's changed me, and I'll never be the same again. It's changed our marriage - not necessarily for the worse, but I think we've each dealt with a lot and reacted very differently. Sometimes I feel like we're each going through this alone. The truth is that we've laughed a little less in the last year or so. We've gone to bed angry a few times. The contrast between our first year of marriage and our second and third years is dramatic. The first year was pure bliss. It was hands down the happiest year of my life so far. I really don't think my feet even touched the ground during that time - it was a high unlike any other. And the only thing that's changed since then is infertility. We're still happy, in love, and committed, but it's tempered by stress and sadness much of the time. I think I've changed more than Jamie. I might even go so far as to say that I am the only one who has noticeably changed. I've closed myself off to him quite a bit - buried myself in message boards and books. I think it's the way I've handled my grief, and I know it needs to change.
Sometimes I wonder if it's been worth it. As much as I want another child - and specifically a child that is half me and half Jamie - the effort to make it happen is coming at a high price. I know even when this all ends, we'll never be able to rewind back to the first year feelings. We're different now. We've been through this together, and it's changed us. We can't do one of the major things God commands married people to do. That is a major disappointment, but it's also given us strength. We're a team through it all. I just wish it could have been different. But here we are, and there's a reason for the path we've taken to get here. Don't ask me what it is, because I have NO idea.
I wonder if Jamie still believes? We haven't talked about that - truthfully we don't talk about these things much anymore. I think he tends to be more optimistic than me. I hope he believes. I wonder if he would tell me if he didn't?