Oh what a difference a few days can make.
This time last week I was heartbroken at the prospect of sending away my little orphaned kitty, bemoaning the fact that I had nowhere to pour out all of my nurturing, mothering energy. Even as I wrote last Friday’s post, I was absolutely dreading the prospect of starting another round of pro*metrium and visiting the RE a couple of weeks later only to hear that I was unable to cycle yet again.
I got over the sadness pretty quickly. I’m not someone who can wallow around in unhappiness for long. I used to be a master at that some years back, but I found it tiring and draining and for the most part, a waste of time. It’s not that I don’t feel supremely unhappy sometimes. I do. It’s not that I don’t rage at the universe for the unfairness of infertility. I do. But I try to work through those things as quickly as possible and get on with my life. It’s a good life.
So by the time O (my SAINTED husband) left for Kentucky early Saturday morning with a SUV full of kitty paraphernalia and one bewildered cat, I was really happy that Bella was going to such a great home and was also relieved that I no longer had to wash up and change clothes several times a day to avoid my allergies.(For those who are interested, Bella made it safely to KY and has spent the week charming her new mom, exploring her new home, and trying to make friends with her 13-year-old “brother” who would just as soon hiss and swat at her as look at her. He seems to be warming up day by day, though.)
Although I was no longer “blue”, my head was still spinning with thoughts of motherhood and all the love that O and I have to give a child.
And you know what?
In all my thinking-thinking-thinking, I finally admitted something to myself that I’ve known for a long time . . .
From the beginning, doing IF treatments has never felt “right” to me. I can’t explain it – it doesn’t have to do with being upset that I needed the intervention of an RE or with the often-embarrassing tests and procedures we have to endure. It’s not even about the fact that we’ve had cycle after cycle shut down even before they could begin. It’s simply that I’ve never felt like, “Yes, THIS path is right for us. This is what we’re supposed to be doing.”
Once I realized that, I almost immediately knew what I wanted to do. After a couple of long conversations with O yesterday I contacted our county’s D*C*F*S to get set up with the foster-to-adopt program. In my heart, it feels absolutely, 100% “right”.
I know there’s a world of information that we have yet to learn about the process. I know that many of the kids available for foster care and adoption come with serious baggage. I know that the potential for heartbreak is all too real. (You saw how attached I got to a kitten I’d had for a week. Can you imagine me falling in love with a child only to have it removed from my home and sent back to its’ biological family?!?!? “Devastation” wouldn’t begin to describe it!)
But both O and I are on board and excited at the prospect of providing a loving home to a child who so desperately needs and deserves it. Of course, it’s possible that as we get further into the process, we might change our minds and realize this isn’t the path for us. I may very well take a few months off from IF treatments and return to the RE determined to give it 100% again.
However, I am delighted to tell you that this week I have:
1. cancelled my consult appointment with a new RE.
2. arranged to pack up and Fed*Ex the 7 vials of follis*tim that have been in my fridge taunting me for months to a darling fellow blogger who will put it to good use
This time last week I was heartbroken at the prospect of sending away my little orphaned kitty, bemoaning the fact that I had nowhere to pour out all of my nurturing, mothering energy. Even as I wrote last Friday’s post, I was absolutely dreading the prospect of starting another round of pro*metrium and visiting the RE a couple of weeks later only to hear that I was unable to cycle yet again.
I got over the sadness pretty quickly. I’m not someone who can wallow around in unhappiness for long. I used to be a master at that some years back, but I found it tiring and draining and for the most part, a waste of time. It’s not that I don’t feel supremely unhappy sometimes. I do. It’s not that I don’t rage at the universe for the unfairness of infertility. I do. But I try to work through those things as quickly as possible and get on with my life. It’s a good life.
So by the time O (my SAINTED husband) left for Kentucky early Saturday morning with a SUV full of kitty paraphernalia and one bewildered cat, I was really happy that Bella was going to such a great home and was also relieved that I no longer had to wash up and change clothes several times a day to avoid my allergies.(For those who are interested, Bella made it safely to KY and has spent the week charming her new mom, exploring her new home, and trying to make friends with her 13-year-old “brother” who would just as soon hiss and swat at her as look at her. He seems to be warming up day by day, though.)
Although I was no longer “blue”, my head was still spinning with thoughts of motherhood and all the love that O and I have to give a child.
And you know what?
In all my thinking-thinking-thinking, I finally admitted something to myself that I’ve known for a long time . . .
From the beginning, doing IF treatments has never felt “right” to me. I can’t explain it – it doesn’t have to do with being upset that I needed the intervention of an RE or with the often-embarrassing tests and procedures we have to endure. It’s not even about the fact that we’ve had cycle after cycle shut down even before they could begin. It’s simply that I’ve never felt like, “Yes, THIS path is right for us. This is what we’re supposed to be doing.”
Once I realized that, I almost immediately knew what I wanted to do. After a couple of long conversations with O yesterday I contacted our county’s D*C*F*S to get set up with the foster-to-adopt program. In my heart, it feels absolutely, 100% “right”.
I know there’s a world of information that we have yet to learn about the process. I know that many of the kids available for foster care and adoption come with serious baggage. I know that the potential for heartbreak is all too real. (You saw how attached I got to a kitten I’d had for a week. Can you imagine me falling in love with a child only to have it removed from my home and sent back to its’ biological family?!?!? “Devastation” wouldn’t begin to describe it!)
But both O and I are on board and excited at the prospect of providing a loving home to a child who so desperately needs and deserves it. Of course, it’s possible that as we get further into the process, we might change our minds and realize this isn’t the path for us. I may very well take a few months off from IF treatments and return to the RE determined to give it 100% again.
However, I am delighted to tell you that this week I have:
1. cancelled my consult appointment with a new RE.
2. arranged to pack up and Fed*Ex the 7 vials of follis*tim that have been in my fridge taunting me for months to a darling fellow blogger who will put it to good use
3. stuffed the 3-ring binder filled with all things IF (brochures, test results, articles, business cards, etc.) into a desk drawer where I don't have to look at it again for a long, long time
4. felt as if I’ve been able to exhale for the first time in almost a year.
Most importantly, I truly feel as if we are exactly where we're supposed to be on our path to becoming a mommy and daddy . . . and that is pretty damned awesome.
4. felt as if I’ve been able to exhale for the first time in almost a year.
Most importantly, I truly feel as if we are exactly where we're supposed to be on our path to becoming a mommy and daddy . . . and that is pretty damned awesome.
