No Miracles Here

I'm not going to hit post on this until I hear back from the doctor's office, so you can assume that if you are seeing this, there was no great miracle (not that I expected one, but I know some of you did).

Another day, another blood test when I already know the result is negative.  At least this specimen box still amuses me every time.  

So, here's where I am:  I no longer believe that Assisted Reproductive Technology can fix whatever is wrong with me and that this is the way that I will become a mother.  I just don't.  I've hit a wall with it, and I hit it hard.  I can't imagine the world in which all of these negatives, when we are doing everything we can, will suddenly turn into a positive. I am tired of it.  I'm tired of the physical pain, the emotional torture, and of failing and failing and failing over and over again.  I find no hope in my heart when I think about continuing down this path and I am starting to really fear where it will lead me emotionally. I've been doing a lot of reading about trauma, PTSD and infertility and am recognizing some things in myself that are a bit scary and that are not improving the longer this goes on.  I will write more about this in another post at another time.

I was reading, the other day, this article on the Resolve website about how to know when it is time to move onto adoption and right at the beginning of the article is this paragraph (emphasis theirs):

Making that leap from infertility treatments to adoption is not to be underestimated. But how do you know when it’s time? Most adoptive parents say that they wish they had done it much sooner instead of wasting significant time and money on unsuccessful treatments. But they are speaking as happy parents with 20/20 hindsight. The turning point for many couples is when they realize that they would rather be parents than be pregnant. Often, around this same time, is when the idea of adoption begins to no longer seem like the next step in a series of failures, but rather the first step in an exciting journey that will end in success.  When you can embrace it in those terms is when you are emotionally ready to begin.

It just struck me.  I read this part again and again and again and I called Ian and I read it to him:

Often, around this same time, is when the idea of adoption begins to no longer seem like the next step in a series of failures, but rather the first step in an exciting journey that will end in success. 

I almost cried when I read that.  I am so tired of a series of failures.  So tired.  Suddenly adoption feels less like a consolation prize and more like a taste of hopefulness.  With adoption, I can be a mother.  With the path I have been on so far, I can not.  So, I think that's where I am.

I know it's not that simple.  There is a lot to process, there is a lot for Ian and I to talk about, and there are those 9 frozen embryos sitting in a lab at UCSF.  Also, Ian is not quite there.  But the time has come to at least add adoption to the conversation in a serious way.  I have a meeting with Dr. Tran in a few weeks, and I've told Ian and our nurse both that I will do another frozen cycle with the three embryos left that are supposedly also great quality.  And once those 3 embryos die inside my uterus like the last 9 have, I think I will be done.  Ian is taking steps he needs to take to process for himself where we are and where we are heading.  

I need to figure out how adoption works. I know infertility treatments.  I don't know adoption and it feels big and unknown and hard and new.  I will take any solid information anyone can give me about what has worked for them, especially in the Bay Area.

So, that's it for today.  No miracles here.