I truly cannot believe that we have arrived at this day. Cannot. Believe. It.
Today we take our first steps into the fun-filled world of assisted reproductive technology. I have my Prometrium bottle sitting on the desk as I write this, and can’t help but glance at it from time to time.
The reason that I am shocked to be here might surprise you. It’s not because I thought I’d get pregnant at the drop of the hat and can’t believe we’ve had to resort to ART. Rather, it’s because there is a huge part of me that has never believed I’d have a baby – that I could ever produce one. That feeling isn’t based on anything other than a long history of non-existant periods – periods that have been regulated for the last three years by meds. I am, in all honesty, shocked because I'm actually starting to think that we might just have a chance to become parents.
I feel like an imposter meeting with doctors as they talk to me like I was anyone else who had just hit a few bumps along the road to motherhood. Can’t they see that I’m broken and that I don’t have what it takes to grow a child within my body? Can’t they see that they’re wasting their time with all these tests?
Isn’t that so bizarre?!?!
I suspect that this belief is one enormous defense mechanism designed to protect me from heartbreak. If I never truly believe that there’s hope, maybe it won’t hurt quite so much when I find out that motherhood isn’t in the cards for me.
I have felt this way about other things.
For most of my life I believed that I was just one of those women who would never marry; never have someone to love and be loved by. I was missing whatever piece of the puzzle was required to accomplish that.
I was wrong. O is truly the kindest, dearest, and most loving man I could ever imagine.
I also believed that I didn’t have what it took to lose the weight I needed to. Yes, I knew logically that my body would release weight like anyone else’s. I simply didn’t have the drive and determination to ever accomplish it.
I was wrong. I’ve lost 110 pounds, only 80 more to go.
So . . . gosh, I’m struggling to even write these words but . . . . maybe I’m wrong about the baby thing too. Maybe my body really CAN create and sustain a life. Oh my God, could that really be true? I would be absolutely floored.
I am actually hopeful. (Gulp!!!) And I am SCARED to death as a result!
Today we take our first steps into the fun-filled world of assisted reproductive technology. I have my Prometrium bottle sitting on the desk as I write this, and can’t help but glance at it from time to time.
The reason that I am shocked to be here might surprise you. It’s not because I thought I’d get pregnant at the drop of the hat and can’t believe we’ve had to resort to ART. Rather, it’s because there is a huge part of me that has never believed I’d have a baby – that I could ever produce one. That feeling isn’t based on anything other than a long history of non-existant periods – periods that have been regulated for the last three years by meds. I am, in all honesty, shocked because I'm actually starting to think that we might just have a chance to become parents.
I feel like an imposter meeting with doctors as they talk to me like I was anyone else who had just hit a few bumps along the road to motherhood. Can’t they see that I’m broken and that I don’t have what it takes to grow a child within my body? Can’t they see that they’re wasting their time with all these tests?
Isn’t that so bizarre?!?!
I suspect that this belief is one enormous defense mechanism designed to protect me from heartbreak. If I never truly believe that there’s hope, maybe it won’t hurt quite so much when I find out that motherhood isn’t in the cards for me.
I have felt this way about other things.
For most of my life I believed that I was just one of those women who would never marry; never have someone to love and be loved by. I was missing whatever piece of the puzzle was required to accomplish that.
I was wrong. O is truly the kindest, dearest, and most loving man I could ever imagine.
I also believed that I didn’t have what it took to lose the weight I needed to. Yes, I knew logically that my body would release weight like anyone else’s. I simply didn’t have the drive and determination to ever accomplish it.
I was wrong. I’ve lost 110 pounds, only 80 more to go.
So . . . gosh, I’m struggling to even write these words but . . . . maybe I’m wrong about the baby thing too. Maybe my body really CAN create and sustain a life. Oh my God, could that really be true? I would be absolutely floored.
I am actually hopeful. (Gulp!!!) And I am SCARED to death as a result!
