First, the funnies. Hubby and I spent our time at our day-long seried of appts and tedting entertaining each other. There was that moment walking into a room of old men @ the urology office where I really just wanted to run the other way, but then we started filling out forms. We fed each other one-liners, and when the doctor told hubby to lose his clothes and hop on the table (not in so many words of course), I had to stifle a giggle as I thought of hubby's p*nts on the gr*und joke. I actually had to ssssshhhhhh him before doc entered the room, because of hilariously inappropriate jokes. Then when he went back to give his sample (remember? The part where I was flipping out because he disappeared without me), he later told me it was a shame he couldn't really tell anyone the funniest part of the day - hearing the heavily-Spanish-accented woman tell him the cup was for m*sturb*tion! So we dealt with the stress during the appt with humor.
In the aftermath, several thoughts have plagued me.
***oh crap. It's March, the month my younger sister said they would be trying for another... Not that they really have to TRY!
***The idea of trying *NOT* to get pregnant is so far removed from my life. I can't even imagine such a thought. And it's sad that I've NEVER had (and will never have) such an experience.
***how many times do I have to tell someone that I'm not attending a baby shower before they accept that you will not be in attendance?
***Even though we have the results to prove it impossible, why do I have this seemingly unbreakable hope that this is the cycle where everything works out and we all live happily ever after?
***If I hear one more song on the radio about not losing hope and not giving up and how "impossible is just an excuse to not try," I'm going to scream! I read on a blog a few days ago, written by a woman who has cancer, that the Bible says that all good and perfect gifts come from God, and how health and longevity must not be good things for her... It wasn't really as cynical as it sounds, it was actually more of a quiet acceptance of God knowing best. I'm trying to adopt that philosophy. Who knows, maybe I would die in childbirth (gosh, there again, I don't really mean it as cynical as it sounds!), or there would be other complications that I couldn't deal with.
I'm working my way into quiet acceptance. I know there will still be bad days, and I'll still avoid the most difficult baby showers, and unfortunately a part of me will always be infertile, but a bigger part of me is ready to pick up and move on. I wouldn't want to forget the things I've learned, I want to be there for people who are still in the trenches. It has become clear, though, that my ttc days are over -- and actually ended long before they began. Good-bye ART, BBT, ovulation planning, and perfectly-timed intercourse... You know, when you put it like that, this whole situation doesn't sound half bad.