I am really upset. About lots of things.
Our FET won’t be happening next month because the SHG is happening next month. We told our RE back in March that we wanted to do a transfer in August, and I was told to call on CD1 in July. Obviously, I should have been told to call in June.
We made several plans based on an August transfer, including moving house. Right now, FET looks like it will happen around September 24th.
A September transfer is less than ideal for a variety reasons, particularly that my MIL is going to be on vacation so she won’t be able to watch V and look after me while I’m on bed rest. So now I’m going to have to hire someone and I’ve never done that before.
I’ve also just learnt that my SHG will also be looking at adhesions in my uterus from the placenta accreta. Talk about dropping a bombshell on me. I’m just thankful that, if there are adhesions, a hysteroscopy will only delay things by a week. The communication chain at my clinic is terrible, and I am pretty pissed off by it.
Meanwhile, I have had seven pregnancy announcements this year. It’s a strange thing to be filled with happiness for your friends whilst feeling the surge of grief for your own fucked up DNA. It’s also strange to look at my daughter — this darling, healthy intelligent, empathic, goofy creature, who is EVERYTHING I could have asked for in a child — and know you wouldn’t change a thing, but still find grief triggered by others’ innocent comments about how much their kid looks like them.
I wish I could get past this fucking grief.
I wish more DEIVF mothers were open about their journey.
I wish people — infertiles, as well as not — would recognise that there is an extra layer of parenting that comes with having a child who doesn’t share your DNA, and it is something I have to think about on a daily basis. Guess what? I love it when people ask about our donor! I hate it when people avoid the “elephant in the room!”
And I wish others would recognise that just because someone never received a PPD or PPA diagnosis does not mean that person doesn’t need support or that life is hunkydory. I wish I’d been shown more compassion when I shared that I might only have one more period in my life (because if the FET works — you know, IF — then the likely outcome is caesarean-hysterectomy). That’s a headfuck, and it was very upsetting when someone decided that her pain trumped mine and complained that I mentioned the acronym “FET” (which was only to give context to what I was saying).
Sheesh, can’t we all support each other, even when it hurts? Can’t we practice being kind to someone while honouring our own sadness?
So I feel like I’m in a no man’s land. I’m not a regular parent, and I don’t feel like I’m a part of the online infertility community anymore.
I am still upset. I am angry about all of this. But this corner of the internet is mine so I’ll use it to process my feelings — even if this time around hardly anyone is reading. That’s the only way I can get to a place of kindness.
Maybe the social media break will free up more time during the day for me to spend with my daughter and write my book. It’s time to redirect my energy more creatively.