I don't know

This is when I wonder about blogging. Or rather, about being so public both about my infertility struggle and blogging. I just finished a post I will probably never publish. It was a pretend note to my doctor, because today, I’m angry. I don’t actually blame him, but I don’t know who (other than myself) to angrily question.

And I’ll never publish it because too many people that go to my clinic read here. And there is a possibility the letter-that-will-never-be-sent would end up being read by people who wouldn’t understand the sarcasm and the deep ache in my heart. They wouldn’t know that I really do like my doctor, but that I can’t help but be frustrated right now.

Then there’s the “so public with this struggle” bit. The sense of failure is overwhelming. And now, people call me, or email me, or ask me for news. They desperately want good news, and all I have is bad. It feels almost as if I’ve failed them, as well. Apart from bloggers, very few people knew the details of this cycle. But they knew enough to know roughly when the cycle would end. And I’ve failed again.

In addition to the sense of failure, I don’t want their pity. I don’t need pity. I’m still me, somewhere in here, I’m still Mrs. Hope. I don’t like wondering if they are walking on eggshells around me. Watching what they say? What they invite me to? I’m still me. I’m a big girl. Somehow I will be ok.

And I wonder, does writing this all out actually help? Or am I just fooling myself? I think it helps. But then there was the study that was published that demonstrated that women who were “emotionally expressive copers” fared worse in IVF cycles. Just another way to blame myself for these failures, I guess.

I have “permission” to call my doctor on Tuesday. He’s been out of town for a week and a half, and therefore, will be extraordinarily busy next week. And who knows how many other women have gotten bad news of some sort while he was away? But I desperately want to know what he will say about this one. I desperately want to know what his vision of our path will be. Because without his opinion, his vision, I can hardly begin to plan. And I desperately want a plan, I need a plan.

Today, I feel angry and snarky, pissy and prickly. And still tired. So, so tired.

~ by Larisa on March 18, 2007.

10 Responses to “I don't know”

  1. Everything you said made sense. I don’t know how anyone going through IF would not be emotionally expressive. Sounds like a dumb study to me, especially since it will only add stress to lots of women’s lives who suddenly wonder if they were expressing themselves too much. What were those researchers thinking?! I can understand how you wouldn’t want pity. This post is actually one of many posts that makes me admire you. Hang in there, and don’t let some researchers tell you you were wrong for enjoying some brief joy in your life when you dared to hope, and some genuine anger and disappointment following. It just means you’re human.

  2. It sucks that you no longer trust the anonymity of your blog. Sometimes it is nice to be able to say things that you know are not rational, just to get them out of your system.

    So sorry about the cycle.

  3. Please feel free to delete this if I’ve crossed a line…

    But I really hope you don’t stop blogging. I don’t read all the time, but I do like to check in on how you’re doing.

    I know that some of us will never know what you’re going through, but I hope you can take some comfort in knowing that we hope and pray with you and we cry and get angry with you. We ask “why?” with you and we scream in frustration with you. We feel failure…like we haven’t done enough praying and hoping for you. We search for answers and question God’s motives (or whether He has any).

    I guess I’m saying this, because I want you to know that we all care about you and hope that by *listening*, we can ease the pain and eventually share your joy.

  4. I sometimes feel that I don’t want to put the words out there cos it is the same old shit over and over. I say break out the vodka, wine or whisky and say “F..k it”.

  5. Keep writing, even if you don’t “publish,” if it’s therapeutic for you. I know that I have found blogging very therapeutic. But what is helpful one day might not be, the next.

    Feeling a responsibility to tell others about the failure of the cycle sucks. You should remember that it is not YOU who has failed, even though it might feel like it. The cycle failed, not you. Do what you can do, on your own time, no pressure.

    I can understand wanting to hear your Dr.’s opinion. Having a plan somehow makes it easier to cope.

    Thinking of you and hoping for your healing. Hang in there, Mrs. Hope.

  6. Somehow, you will be ok. If only the road to ok could be a little smoother. :-/

  7. I hate that you’re angry with yourself. Be mad at your doctor if you want. He gave you hope. Be mad at God. God can take it. Be mad in general — you’ve done EVERYTHING right. Be proud of yourself. You have more strength than you ever imagined possible before infertility treatment was a part of your life. Strength is certainly worthy of pride.

    Rage away until you can make your next plan if that’s what you need to tide you over.

    I wish I had better words to offer.

  8. This is the first time I’ve visited your blog, I think. Spanglish’s blog directed me here.

    Your post today made my throat get tight. I remember feeling like that, only I rarely had the guts to post about it.

    Sending you my best thoughts.

  9. have you talked to your doc yet? Hoping that he has some answers for you.

  10. So sorry to hear about your negative. I just came across your blog and I know exactly how you feel. I recently got BFN on my final and last attempt at IVF (#4 for me). When I first got my BFN, I went from being extremely mad to utterly sad. We all do IVF because we have hope.. or why would we put ourselves through all that. In my heart, we genuinely believe its going to be a success and lead to a pregnancy. So when it doesn’t happen, it leaves us completely beat and all your emotions are completely normal. Its just so unfair. Hang in there and I believe its good to put your feelings somewhere. Being honest with your emotions is the first step in the healing process. We all cope and deal with our emotions differently so don’t let anyone tell you what is right or wrong. Do you what helps you and its all we can do to get past this horrible journey of infertility. Big hugs to you.

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