thursday’s agenda

  1. have blood taken to determine egg reserve and length of time before i hit menopause
  2. go out for breakfast with husby
  3. put away the laundry
  4. put ice cream dasher into the freezer
  5. plan memorial day
  6. make out grocery list
  7. weed vegetable bed
  8. make a trip to the farmer’s market

yes the blood test was at the top of my to-do list this morning.  yes, it is just an everyday sort of a thing, like putting away the laundry.  isn’t it?  i mean it is no big hairy deal.  right?  at least that is how i am trying to approach it.  it is just something that needs to be done today.  just like putting away the laundry.  get it done, then cross it off the list. deep down inside i’m hoping the mundane-every-day-this-is-nothing-approach will help offset the seriousness of what it really means to us and what it actually signifies: the beginning of the end of our attempts at having a child.  yes, the end of this six year ordeal is finally in sight.  we are finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  we’re coming to a pivotal moment in our situation and  within the next few months we will reach the end.  we’ll then be able to deal with whatever is on the other side of it and hopefully, move on.  i’m digging in my heels and hanging on tight because  to put it bluntly, the chances right now of us bringing home a little bundle are pretty slim.  i am not trying to be pessimistic, i’m just trying to grasp the reality of the situation.  30% chance.  now 30 is greater than 0, or even 10 or 20; but when the weatherman predicts a 30% chance of rain, do you leave the house with your umbrella?

honestly, it never really occurred to me that we might reach the end and find an empty nursery.  i really believed that somehow, somewhere, some way, we’d become parents.  the fact that it would be this difficult a task was unfathomable.  a few months ago however, it just all began to really sink in: we’re almost out of options, and the odds are not in our favor.  i grieved.  i’m still grieving.  i told my husband several times that i felt someone very dear and very close to us was critically ill; we were coming to the crossroads to discover whether or not they would live or die.  it is an odd sort of grief though.  there is nothing tangible about it, it isn’t the kind of thing anyone understands.  i can’t talk about it.  i can’t grieve publicly in the way one could were there *really* someone passing away. life has to go on,  i have to carry on and keep up appearances as if nothing is happening.  when asked at a luncheon last week about my plans for the summer i wanted to say “i’m going to make one final valiant attempt at having a baby!!!!!!!”  when told later on at the table that i was sooo quiet, i wanted to explain “i’m coming to terms with the fact that i may never reach my lifelong goal and desire of being a mother.”  i doubt anyone would have said much more than “uhhhhhm. anyone like more lemonade?”

there is a place in society for couples who make the conscious choice not to have a child, but for what we could likely become: cnbc’s (childless not by choice) – there are no special sunday school classes or social mixers for that sort of group.  it isn’t a popular choice.  it isn’t necessarily an acceptable one.  i suppose many people would share the opinion that was tactlessly hurled at another cnbc: unless you have exhausted all your resources and died trying, you don’t really have the right to quit and grieve your losses.  i think there was a time when i thought we’d never quit until we had tried every. single. option available to us.  but the truth of the matter is: i’m tired.  we’ve nearly spent our entire marriage battling infertility.  i want to move on.  it would hurt deeply never to have a child, but it also hurts every time another door closes; and it is getting harder and harder to bounce back every time.  i believe that at some point we have to just accept that we tried and it wasn’t meant to be.  (and please let me say here very gently, that we aren’t open to any suggestions or alternatives anyone might think we have not considered)

so for the next couple of months i have gone into what i call hunker-down-and-hang-in-there-by-my-fingernails mode.  i have withdrawn from everything that isn’t absolutely necessary.  we’re still hoping and praying for the best; but we’re also talking about a plan b.  i’ve decided to put away the beatrix potter wallpaper for right now.  it can always be retrieved from the cedar chest if we beat the odds and need to use it.  meanwhile i’m making alternative plans for the nursery to become an office and trying to decide which shade of red for the walls would look the best.


4 Comments to “thursday’s agenda”

  1. Reaching out across miles and years to pray for you today and this week. I’m praying grace and peace that surpasses understanding……and something just for you from God to make you smile.

  2. Praying for you.

  3. Praying, Jenny. My heart is full for you.

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