August, Part II

August, Part II 

I’ve been avoiding writing, which is odd for me. I think, though, I just need to push myself to be really honest about why:

I’m scared that this next FET won’t work, and I’m scared that it will.

Three years of infertility treatment has left be feeling beaten up and bruised. It’s like I’m in an abusive relationship and I’m no longer able to be optimistic. It’s hard to imagine a different, positive outcome. My doctor warns me about the risks associated with twins and I laugh in his face. Not to be rude, but I literally replied, “On what planet do I get lucky enough to be pregnant with twins, doc?”

So I worry about getting my hopes up and writing all about my day-to-day treatment (and superstitions, and so-called signs, and pineapple buying) because I don’t want to write the follow-up post; the only kind I know, where I have to announce that this FET didn’t work either.

You still on this rollercoaster with me? Get this: I’m also scared that I will get pregnant and then I’ll become one of them. One of the women I am currently so envious of…all the TTC sisters who have become pregnant. Of course, I want all of us to be successful, but I know that it has started to feel like even my TTC girls are leaving me behind for double pink lines and I’m still in the waiting room.  So what happens if I become one of them? Does my TTC card get revoked? I know that these losses and this pain won’t just disappear, either. How would I even feel if I suddenly looked like a healthy, pregnant women on the outside? All these scars still on my skin.

I desperately want to be pregnant, but sometimes I just don’t know where I belong. I’ve made my best decisions at each fork in the road – as we all do – but it hasn’t worked out yet, has it?

There’s a great line in a John Mayer song that I keep hearing in my head:

'Cause I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me
So I can say this is the way that I used to be

When does this painful present time become the past?