Editor’s note: I’m about ready to break up with wordpress.  My lack of posts over the last few days has not been by my choice – the three I’ve put together have all disappeared into the netherworld of wordpress’s user interface.  I’ve resorted to writing in word and then copying the post over, so when the font comes out all screwy, I hope you’ll forgive me. 

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I feel like a fraud. 

I feel like a fraud because I started femara on Saturday, I’m popping metformin every night, and yet I don’t believe that it’s going to work.  I’ve hit the point where I’m just about ready to move on to IUI, simply to be moving forward, to be doing something that might make a difference.  I’m ready to have this “infertile situation” dealt with, over, resolved one way or the other.  If we’re going to have kids, let’s have them.  If not, let me get on with my life.  But taking the drugs without any confidence that they’ll do anything makes me feel like an actor in my own life.

I feel like a fraud because I can’t seem to get as worked up over my infertility as I feel I should.  It’s not that anyone is pressuring me, but I see how all of you react, how you are upset and angry.  And I just can’t seem to get there.  I feel like, “Meh, I can’t have babies, so what?”  I feel like I should be rending my garments and crying out in anguish, but it’s too much effort with no payoff.  I feel like I should feel worse, and because I don’t, I feel guilty on top of it.

I feel like a fraud because for so many years, I didn’t want children.  Babies are wonderful, children are wonderful, but I’ve always liked them more when someone else was responsible for changing their diapers and cleaning up their messes.  The past few years have given me plenty of time to enjoy my life as my own without the responsibility for anyone else.  I like sleeping in.  I like having time to do nothing but read a book or sew or watch movies all day.  I like having money to buy new clothes and go out to eat and spend on sports cars and granite countertops.  I know that when we have kids, much of that is going to go away.

I feel like a fraud because I’m not sure if I actually want to be a parent, but I am sure that I want Manly to be a father.  I wonder if I’m the equivalent of those men who have children to make their wife happy without any real desire to parent themselves.  One of my biggest fears is that I am too selfishly absorbed in my own desires and that will make me a terrible mother. 

I feel like a fraud because this is an infertility blog, and yet I’m sitting here wondering if I actually want to do this after all.