I realized last night at dinner that I haven’t had a blood draw in two months. I don’t miss it one bit.
I haven’t taken my met in almost a week — not because I don’t want to, but because of laziness. I haven’t unpacked the suitcase it’s in.
Prenatals? Um, can’t remember the last time I took one.
But: I realized that I can’t let go of knowing what cycle day I’m on. It’s like I have a freaking ticker inside my head. That’s going to be a big hurdle for me to cross. In the back of my mind, I feel this pressure to GO HAVE SEX BECAUSE IT’S “THAT TIME”! But I don’t want to do that. I want to have sex when I feel like it, not just because it’s CD16 or whenever. I actually caught myself thinking, “I started on Monday so …” and then yelled at myself (in my head, since I was at the gym) to stop. Lalala, I can’t hear myself, oh look it’s time to go run on the treadmill, think about how the soap smells so nice, just don’t freaking think about it anymore!
Part of it is because I know that we still have a miniscule chance of conceiving on our own. I’m terrified that if we don’t try, then of course that would be the month that I would have gotten pg, and I will have missed it. Don’t think I’m not beating myself up about the five years that we were preventing. Baptist guilt, a little, do you think? And that’s on top of the guilt of not getting pg in the first place, the guilt about how my body failed Manly, the guilt about enjoying not ttc, and the guilt about feeling like I’m being punished for all of the above. Guilt on top of guilt.
The physical part of infertility treatment is easy to leave behind.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to leave the mental and emotional scars behind.