Apparently, I really needed to write yesterday’s blog post.
Because I’m emotional these days and because I’m terrible at keeping a secret from the LP (like my secret plan to bombard him with information about donor eggs in the weeks leading up to our “serious conversation, Part 2” about using them if we don’t get pregnant with a sticky egg of my own in the coming few months) and because our bleeping fertility clinic threw me for yet another ridiculous and poorly communicated curve ball late yesteday… I talked to the LP about donor eggs last night.
Before that (after the fertility clinic fiasco), I tried hard to employ the tonglen practice of driving all blames into one and breathing in pain, breathing out light. Not easy when I wanted to rip someone’s head off.
Guess what? The LP was not oppositional and shut down as he has been in the past. The clincher for me was him saying a very quiet “I know” when I said, trying desperately not to cry in the process, “I know you. You would love that little baby as much as you love the Miracle Baby. It would be no different.” He said he wants to do some reading and is willing to learn about epigenetics and the ethical and emotional implications of using donor eggs, especially if they work.
I don’t know how I feel about all of this. Relieved? Definately. Excited? Not exactly. Who gets excited about giving up on your own fertility and the eggs you were born with? Excited is not the right word. I’m full of love and gratitude and flushed with relief. Thank you, LP. Thank you, God/Universe/Spirit. And thank you, Me, for finding my true, compassionate and loving voice – in my heart, not in literature or science or exasperation – last night.
And thank you, Miracle Baby, because without you I would not “know” what I know – about me, about the LP, about you, about life. What I know pales in comparison to what I have yet to learn, but what I have learned already, since my fertility-challenged jourey to parenthood began several years ago, is plenty. Heaps, even.
What I also feel is a little exhausted. I had spent so much energy fearing the worst – that the LP would steadfastly refuse to the end of time to consider other options and it would be a serious challenge to our relationship and to each of us individually – that to have this huge weight lifted is like cutting off all of your hair when it’s been really long for a very long time. You feel dizzy, get headaches and you feel a little naked and alien. I feel as though I’ve just cut all of the hair I spent years growing and am sporting a pixie cut.
Non-sequitur time: Maybe I should go cut my hair? Wouldn’t that be a trip?
And, above all, I am so in love. With the LP. With the Miracle Baby. With life. And I love myself for getting to this place of peace, acceptance and compassion. I feel so much lighter (really, don’t you think I should shear off my hair?) and braver facing this injectable IUI cycle knowing that if this doesn’t work, we have another option to consider together. And strangely, I feel better able to embrace this cycle and detach from the outcome. Maybe that is not so strange? It is most welcome, whatever else it is.
Baseline is tomorrow. I hope there are no cysts or other obstacles to us proceeding this cycle. But if there are, then I guess this wasn’t our time. And if there aren’t, we are off to the races (I start stims tomorrow night if all is well with my bloodwork and ultrasound tomorrow morning).
Wish us luck, friends. Please.