February 26, 2009
I’m going through a rough patch
Facebook pregnancy announcement–ouch. Not due until October and they're already announcing it on Facebook. Especially when it's someone expecting their third baby. And their first was born when P was 20 months old. They've managed to conceive and will ostensively give birth to three babies in the time that we've been trying to get pregnant with just one keeper, which is quite a downer. But it's also depressing since it's someone I genuinely like a lot, and I don't want to feel this way.
It doesn't help that it was coupled by a surprise period earlier this week. I was somewhere around d37 of my cycle and didn't think I'd ovulated yet. That was still within my normal range and my biggest concern was that I would likely get my period while in Florida with the kids for spring break. I happened to walk down the aisle at the grocery store that had tampons and decided to pick some up so that I would have them in a couple of weeks.
And then I got my period that night.
Either I ovulated ridiculously early for me (around d24) and didn't realize it, despite normally getting REALLY-obvious-impossible-to-mistake-for-anything-else ovulation pains…or I had an anovulatory cycle. I've only ever had one before. The early ovulation is possible since I'm on metformin, but for the fact that my ovulation pains have been strong enough to wake me up in the past and I doubt that I just didn't notice them.
I don't actually expect to get pregnant on my own again, but there's always that little voice. That annoying little voice that whispers that anything's possible. The one that reminds me that it took nothing more than metformin to get pregnant with P. The one that reminds me that I managed to get pregnant about 10 months ago without even metformin, even if it did end in miscarriage. I manage to tune it out most of the time, or not let it get to me, but this time it did. And I haven't been able to tune it out since then.
Why do I feel like it's self-indulgent to want to do IVF? I've already got a child through birth. Why should I feel so guilty that I want that experience again? I've already got a child through adoption. Why should I feel so guilty that we might pursue a different path for our next child?
For a while I was in a decent place, where I thought that we'd do IVF and if it didn't work, it would be sad but not devastating. That was a good place, the right mindset for IVF for me. After all, my mindset is probably the biggest reason we haven't done IVF in the past–if it didn't work, we wouldn't be able to pursue adoption (for financial reasons), and that might have broken me. The idea of parenting again was a stronger lure than the possibility of getting pregnant. And that was a good way to go into K's adoption.
So why does it feel wrong that I have gone back the other way? That the possibility of getting pregnant is a bigger draw than parenting again? I think part of it is financial–if IVF doesn't work this time, we will still be able to afford to adopt reasonably soon afterwards. Last time it was an either/or situation. Part of the guilt also comes from our 1-year family day coming up next week. How can I care about birthing a child when we've gained so much joy and happiness through adoption a year ago?
But my oldest baby is past 5 years old. The voice that urges me to carry and birth another baby has never gone away, not once in those 5+ years. It's been muted. It's been quiet and whispery. But it's getting louder lately. I don't WANT it to be loud. I want to stomp my feet and say "GO AWAY!" I want to curl up and cry and plead with it to go away. I want to beg. But I know it won't listen.
Why does it weigh on me so heavily? Why can't I just accept that I won't give birth again and let it go? How is it so easy to KNOW that adoption again would be wonderful, and still feel this incredible desire to give birth?
Rational, it is not. But it's what I feel.
February 6, 2009
Sweetness and light
Ever since K said "I love you" to me three weeks ago, he has been the most affectionate and cuddly kid in the world. Saying those words was the release of a huge barrier for him and it's amazing how he's changed yet again. He giggles more often and more easily. He hugs all the time and gives kisses without being asked. If he's sitting somewhere, he pats the seat next to him so that I will sit there–and once I'm there, he crawls onto my lap and cuddles up close. We've moved him into a toddler bed and when he's falling asleep, he will reach out to me as I sit next to his bed, hold onto my neck, and pull me close as if I'm his favorite Elmo doll.
I can hardly absorb it all. It's just the sweetest, most affectionate and loving trust I've ever been given. And it's all the more precious because I know how hard it was for him to give it.
A month from tomorrow, we will celebrate our first Family Day–a celebration of the day that we returned to Atlanta as a family of four. A year.
PCOS Baby 