I’ve realized something in the past few days. I genuinely feel I have nothing to look forward to in these next few months of fertility treatments. (fertility related only, my life has lots of fun things ongoing and on the horizon).
Previously, I daydreamed about two pink lines and hugging Pea, about calling my sisters and making them cry happy tears, about a perfect chart with the little green plus sign on it. That’s as far as I ever projected forward: maybe because I genuinely have no feelings of romance surrounding actually being pregnant, maybe because I am overly goal oriented, and probably at least a little bit because I can’t daydream too far forward without creating an internal future that may never come to be.
I got to live all of those daydreams. It didn’t work out, which was sad, but now I find I’m back in the saddle, and with nothing to daydream about as a new experience. I know how my body reacts to letrozole. I know the schedule with IUI, and there’s no real concern there, so it’s all just business as usual.
This is not to say that I am without hope. I remain hopeful that these treatments and timings will work out, and I still want a child. I just feel that the sparkly immediately positive things I was previously looking forward to have been used up now. I did look forward to shedding the stress and frustration associated with being at the clinic, but the likely reality will be trading it for stress over the pregnancy and frustration over my changing body.
It would be easier if I was fond of the idea of sporting a big belly, and nurturing a small life inside me, but the basic premises of procreation give this stone-cold microbiologist the heebie jeebies. I’ll be pregnant because that’s how you get kids, and I want kids, but I cannot pretend to be excited about the process (insert similies to Alien movies, parasite analogies, etc. here).
So. I’m feeling absolutely fine about this cycle so far, just a bit blah about the whole process in general. So this was really just my very bland whining about it.