How I Measure Time

There's always a certain amount of introspection that comes from being faced with life's little curveballs, which in my immediate case is infertility. We frequently find ourselves living with personal deadlines and anniversaries, whether it's from week to week, cycle to cycle, month to month and unfortunately, year to year. I myself have found myself at a different kind of "milestone," if you will, that signifies the time and emotion that we have poured out and into getting pregnant, (preferably for a whole 9 months this next time, please).

As most of us know, Suz courageously gave birth to two very special and healthy boys. While I couldn't be happier for her and George, for they went through Hell with almost every step: the defective HPTs; the shared placenta; the mandatory bed rest; and finally the Drop Foot, I can't help but feel some melancholy as well. You see I specifically remember this post, which was before I ever started my own blog. I was there when Suz got knocked up and I was there when she delivered the twins (obviously in a virtual sense in both events). Realizing the time that has passed for me as measured by someone's conception to birth, it forces me to face up to the fact I am in this for the long haul. I didn't want to be. I certainly never imagined I would be here, still not pregnant more than a year after losing Baby May, and certainly no closer to our goal in the time it took for a fellow well-deserving, and beautiful blogger to go through a (near) term pregnancy.

I am supposed to start my BCP tomorrow. Today I made sure that this is what Mr. DD really wanted to do as opposed to adoption. I figured since he had originally dreamed of having three children that maybe an international adoption of a sibling set would meet - and exceed - all of our dreams. We would have a full house. We could possibly not only have a baby, but a toddler as well that could neatly fit into the age-gap between X and a baby. I wouldn't have to feel little bits of my heart chip away like I do now when X sadly tells me that he has no one to play with when we pick him up from day care. But that's a fantasy that will never come to light. Mr. DD's male ego, and understandably so, is firmly entrenched into any children we have would be biological. There is no negotiation in this matter and I believe I can accept this.

We also discussed what would happen if IVF#2 failed. My gut response was that I would keep going until we had another baby, but I know that I could not mentally go more then 3 fresh-cycle tries. I told myself a year ago that I couldn't justify continuing to try after I turned 40, which will be next July. I can only hope, pray, beg that the whole issue of a third IVF will be moot.

To that end, I will make sure that I do what I can to improve our chances. I finally obtained some steroids and antibiotics so I can shake the pesky upper respiratory infection that wore out its welcome a week ago. I've scheduled some sessions with an acupuncturist, who will insure that I have the recommended sessions immediately before and after the transfer, regardless of any crazy-ass time that we get scheduled for. If I could, I would postpone the preparation our house needs to get listed for sale by the end of March, but that's not possible. Even though the contractor has not given us anything definite, I am guessing that we will have a move in date as soon as May. These particular details cannot be conducive to relieving outside stressors, but knowing they're there is half the battle.

I guess Time will indeed tell.