Mother's Day Blues

Infertility is difficult to deal with on any old day.  Mother's Day is the worst.  Yes, I take the time to recognize the awesomeness of my own mother, my Aiti.  She deserves all the accolades I can muster.  But while everyone else is enjoying special breakfasts, brunches, and bouquets, I'm only reminded of my failure to join that special mommy club.  Never did I think that I would be 40 and childless.  Never.  Yet here I am.  A childless mother.   


So, to all of you suffering silently today while others celebrate and "Happy Mother's Day" updates overwhelm your Twitter or Facebook pages, I'm sending you a massive cyber hug and hoping that soon all of us will be able to partake in the celebrations.  

Fitting in?

The day after I made my appointment with Dr. R. the clinic called to let me know that they could fit me in on Tuesday.  I don't know if it's to my benefit or not as he is squeezing me into a 15 min slot.  Can we have a meaningful conversation in such a short time?  I hope so.  On the positive side of things, I'm thankful that I can get started a month sooner in preparation for the next FET.  So rather than waiting until March 26th, I'm getting in almost a month earlier.     

Cartoon Courtesy of
Google Images

Speaking of fitting in, another blogger, Michaela, posted an eloquent piece about being an Outsider and how those who have been on this infertility journey for a while become war weary.  Her post spoke to me.  When I found out that we needed help conceiving, I felt alone and as if no one would understand me.  Then I discovered the IF community online.  I found women who knew exactly how I felt.  My need to belong and to be understood was fulfilled.  But as the months passed, as my treatments continued and failed, I became quite jaded.  Still am.  The IF forums no longer fulfilled my need for understanding and belonging.  What changed?  I don't know.  All I know to be true is that infertility has changed me.  My heart has been broken in ways that I never could have imagined.  I've cried more than I ever thought possible.    


Years ago, my mother took me to a psychic fair.  For my 21st birthday, my mother paid for my palm to be read.  After carefully inspecting the lines on my palm, the palm reader predicted that would have three sons.  I recall being so shocked and dismayed.  "I could never have three boys!" I exclaimed to my mother.  Shame on my fertile loins! The prospect of having three boys frightened me and I was adamant that it would never happen.  Little did I know that my words would become reality.  Now, when I think about my fertility, the glass is definitely half empty.  In a few short months, I'll hit the dreaded 40 and we all know what that means for a woman's fertility.  May as well sound the death knell of my ovaries!  Am I being pragmatic or am I putting up a defense against the failure and disappointment?  Perhaps a little of both.     

So tired...

of all this infertility bullshit.  You think I would be used to another negative beta, but no.  It's as painful as the first.  


Five IUIs, 2 IVFs, 2 FETs and 9 embryos later and all I've got is a fat ass.  I don't know how much more my heart can take.