Lately the writer inside of me has been pretty silent, or maybe just repressed under the hormonal crap and disappointment of the past few months. When I said, so many weeks ago, that I wasn’t going to blog through the ups and downs of Project Sibling v2.0 I didn’t actually mean that I was going to stop blogging. Turns out my desire to keep everything low key has a direct impact on my desire to log on to the computer, check social media and write… It seems keeping the focus internal turns me into a bit of an introvert, who knew?
The accidental break, as it turns out, has been good for
me us. The ups and downs of TTC and the drug-induced crazies seem to play out better when I make a conscious effort to force them to the back of my mind, even if the result is the same at the end of the cycle.
And it is the same.
Project Sibling v2 cycle one 1 was a bust and we’re nearing the end of 2.2 with yet another failure looming on the horizon. So much for all that crap the nuns (yeah I’m a catholic-school girl, what of it?) told us about getting pregnant. There’s so much about this process that is hard but it’s a total kick in the gut when after years of being drilled that sex = baby (it just takes one, you know!) the reality turns out more like
sex injections + masturbation + shitloads of money = nothing.
Even if you expected that result.
It doesn’t get any easier second or third time around either – 10 years of cycling with a variety of medical assistance and the flood of red that heralds a negative result (I rarely make it to beta) is still as raw as the first failure. Hope is still tilting the see-saw of decision towards gambling on another few rounds but all of the reasons that we stopped last time are still there, still valid.
Having a family is not as easy as your high school teachers led you to believe. I’m so thankful for Dexter, for our less than 1% shock the doctors miracle. Cycling may not be any easier these days but the emotional backlash is easier to escape.
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