Last week I came to a huge realisation.
I was done trying for children.
By done I mean adoption, foster care, trying naturally and of course treatment.
This has been a huge journey for me. I have gone through the all emotional stages and I am finally in a place where I am content. I mean actually content. I have accepted my life’s journey with infertility. I am still not a huge fan of pregnancy announcements, however of late I realise I no longer get heart blisteringly upset the way I used to. I listen to people talking about trying and I am right there in the corner shouting out words of encouragement but I just don’t have any desire to be in the ring with them. In fact, I often think to myself “thank goodness that isn’t me”.
Ryan and I have finally started moving on with our life. Planning things. Thinking about the future. Living. Not talking about babies. Molly is at an age where is she equal measures of amazing fun and cheeky naughty. There are days when I actually say to myself I don’t know how people parent another child and the threenager at the same time without going crazy (or drunk). Molly would desperately love a sibling but I can’t do that for her. Not the traditional way and I don’t have it in me any more to do it other ways. I tell her that she has the best of cousins and she has the best of friends and together they create our alternative family.
Waiting, wishing and hoping after a while becomes exhausting. If you have been in IF land for any longer than 12 months you know that. You wait in that waiting place and you hope desperately to come out of it. Like Dr Seuss promises. He tells us we sometimes spend time there but eventually you move on, you’ll move mountains. Each day in IF land brings failure and each day is a struggle when you realise a treatment hasn’t worked, you haven’t ovulated, your cycles are wonky (too short! too long! did I ovulate! am I now menopausal!), paperwork is lost, your period is too long or too short. You put your life on hold. Career plans get shelved, holiday’s are not possible and you are too scared to make massive changes just in case something happens.
The last five weeks I have been selling Molly’s baby things. The change table has gone, an ultrasound monitor, books and clothes. I am about to take a pile of old toys – barely used to an op shop. We are planning on getting Molly a big girl bed for Christmas and then the cot will be put on eBay as well. It has been incredibly cleansing.
We have the trip to Japan. I am in the last few weeks of my 12w challenge and this week I was supposed to be attending the adoption seminar (4 months after we signed up) when I realised it. That our baby making journey was finally FINALLY finished.I wrote this morning to say that we could not attend and I didn’t even feel bad about doing it. In fact I felt relieved because it was another day we would have to take off work for a baby that doesn’t even exist.
I am actually happy with our family of three. No, it isn’t perfect. Another child would have been the absolute best but right now we are in a great place. Back at the end of July we had a wedding and one of my dearest friends set a picture text message letting us all know she was pregnant. I lost my shit. Ok, I was rip roaring drunk but I lost it. I started sobbing uncontrollably. My husbands best friend ended up consoling me for an hour as I apologised wetly all over his suit jacket. However I think that was the turning point for me. I woke up in the morning with a horrendous hangover but I felt cleansed. I felt like I had got the last tears out and I have to say since then I haven’t cried. Not over my lack of children.
Closure, like a mythical unicorn pregnancy is a really difficult thing to achieve in infertility land. Yet I think I may have just achieved it. And I am not going to lie. Life feels good. Infertility has changed me and shaped me and I absolutely have come out of it a stronger, resilient, better person. I am ready for the next stage finally.