32 (ICLW)

Things have been so bad for so long now that it’s hard to get excited about anything.  For every one good thing that happens, twelve bad things soon follow.  It’s really hard to say when this train is going to leave Suck Town, USA.  Every time you scrape yourself off the floor, life has a funny way of putting you right back where you just came from.  Eventually, you don’t want to get up.

Statistically, it just doesn’t make sense.  The odds of having a deformed uterus, the odds of my husband being equally messed up,  the odds of being 31 and having a depleted supply of eggs, the odds that IVF was a complete failure, the odds that they gave me the wrong medication during IVF.  I could go on forever with this.  I think when you look at the odds, you begin to realize that this really does not seem all that random.  All roads seem to end up a Dead End.  I somehow managed to never take statistics.  I am a scientist and look at statistics all day long.  I can’t give you the exact statistics (P value) of this happening to us, but I can tell you this… STATISTICALLY WE ARE FUCKED!

I have a secret.  Although I have been like… WOOO HOOOO!  We’re going to adopt (AKA buy) some embryos.  YAY!  I have secretly been hoping for some kind of divine intervention.  To end up one of those lucky people who accidentally end up pregnant when they had just about given up all hope.   Shouting to all that would listen… IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! 

I remember wanting to cry when I turned 30.  I remember last year feeling a little worse than the year before at 31.  This isn’t how I thought my life was going to go.  Tomorrow I turn 32.  I’d like to tell you that I’m feeling better about turning 32, however in my best Maury Povich voice, I have to confess... THAT IS A LIE!

          My attitude charted for your amusement

I’ve been ignoring my doctor’s recommendation to go on birth control pills for months.  It’s supposed to help control the hormones that have turned my uterus into a tumor making factory, hopefully preventing me from needing an additional surgery.  So this year, for my birthday, I’m going to the drug store, buying a giant box of tampons along with birth control pills.  This will be taken consecutively until we do the frozen embryo transfer. We are officially nailing the door shut on any hopes for normalcy.  Sad, yet relieved at the same time.  I can not go through another year of this insanity.  We are, however, open to new types of insanity/torture.  So for right now, I want off THIS ride, immediately!

For right now, I’m telling myself that there is a reason for this.  Keep in mind that I’m telling myself this… if anyone else tells me this, well I hope you have quick reflexes, because I will likely attempt to punch you in the face. What is getting me through this, is the idea, that in this batch of frozen embryos, there is this amazing person who hasn’t had the chance to fulfill their destiny yet.  There had better be a reason for this.  I am truly hoping that there is a bigger plan for us.

P.S.   You know how at baby showers they make diaper cakes, well I thought (because I’m not right) how funny it would be to get a tampon cake.  So I googled it.  Turns out it already exists.  This little gem turned my frown upside down.  Don't judge.

 

http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/eascfa/feminist_art_base/gallery/vadis_turner.php?i=2221 (giving credit where credit is due)