Actually, my boy doesn't realize I choked back tears for the whole during last night. Apparently there was no way for me to pick the ideal time, place, or situation to finally have a nice breakdown. It was a while a-coming.
My eyes leaked hot, stinging tears. I held my breath and bit my lip to try to stay quiet. I repositioned myself to keep from choking. And DH, god love him, had no idea.
That cry started with me deciding I'd had my FILL of On-Demand Hanky-Panky. I've been fine with ODHP for most its 4.5-year reign at our house. But I hit a big wall after the February IVF and since then have NOT been on task with it. It seems ludicrous to even try that approach anymore, because doing so implies some expectation that sex with your husband might result in conception. More proof that that scenario is never going to play out for us, I do not need.
I also cried . . .
- Because I hadn't yet had a real cry about the dismal ER. I wondered, "What is wrong with me that I haven't managed a proper fit about THAT?"
- Because we're not allowed to TTC this cycle and I'd gotten a positive OPK stick, making it the so-called perfect time to get busy for procreational purposes. I'd also had some ovulation spotting, which — according to popular TTC lore — means you might just be "extra fertile" that cycle. (Riiiiiigggghhhhhht.) We're not allowed to take advantage of any dropping egg because if we got pregnant, the Cetrotide I'll shoot up with next week would kill the fetus. And neither of us wants to be a baby killer.
- Because as I focused on hating the "protective" condom, I couldn't help bitterly thinking how absurd it was to even imagine we'd get to the fetus part under any circumstances . . . and also how even more absurd-er it was that I wanted to say to heck with the love glove to see if we could beat all odds by getting pregnant on our own and watching our miracle bean survive the baby-killing drug. Wowie, wouldn't that be a swell story!
- Because the only reason we DTD in the first place was to prepare DH's pipes for making a sperm bank deposit — just in case his plane goes down while he's trying to get home for a fresh deposit on ER day.
- Because DH — who never pulls this crap under normal circumstances — tried to "forget," and clearly hoped I would forget, that we needed to DTD last night to accommodate HIS work issues and all the complications they've added to this project for the last, uh, entire time we've been working on it.
- Because I admitted to myself that it sometimes makes me mad that all DH ever has to do to further this whole ride is ejaculate. (Yes, I DID just say that!) For crying out loud, the very serious Rx for his severe MFI is frequent ejaculation. Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo.
- Because I pictured my life if DH's plane goes down — and for a moment, I didn't hate it.
- Because I tried to focus my thoughts elsewhere, but my mind refused to take me anywhere I wanted to go.
Then I pulled myself together. I felt perfectly calm and composed, ready to stake out some personal space for the night, until DH snuggled close and sweetly said, "I do love you, you know." His simple show of affection knocked my composure back down on its arse.
It reminded me that we're among the lucky ones. And THAT'S when my sobbing really began. DH asked what he could do, I said nothing, and he just stroked my hair while I let it out.
It was a good night for both of us, I think.
POST SCRIPT: By its very nature, this whole blog is based upon personal issues. Even so, I still keep lots of things to myself. I almost didn't publish this entry because it's stuff I would typically send to my personal journal. I waited two and a half days before coming back to decide for sure. I figure the experience couldn't be more IF-specific. So I'm posting it for anyone out there who might have had a similar experience and is wondering whether anyone else out there can relate. To you I say, "I can relate. I do relate. And I know that we are totally normal."
Friday, April 11, 2008, 6:00 pm