sweet grapes, sour grapes

My relationship with infertility and infertility treatment is complicated.  On the one hand, we would not have BabyHope without first having experienced infertility, and certainly not without the extraordinary science and art that is ART.  The difficulty in getting to BabyHope is nicely sanded down in memory – oh, it wasn’t *so* bad to do all those cycles.  The money?  I don’t care in the slightest.  BabyHope’s presence is far more powerful than the memories of Kinko’s or laminaria.  Sweet grapes, indeed.  We worked, hard, and got what we felt we deserved.

But this last round?  I’m bitter.  Angry.  And it still doesn’t seem possible that our outcome is what it is.  I went in with more confidence – seemingly knowing it would work in the end, and knowing even more that success deems all the work worth it.  But failure?  Failure leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth for what ART and medicine are not.  The “best” doctors in ART still can’t tell me exactly what’s wrong, nor can they tell me how to fix it, save using someone else’s uterus.  That fixes the problem for them, but not for me.  I think that if I persisted and pursued for 1, 2, 3 more cycles, that yes, this could work.  I think there’s something fundamentally wrong with the frozen cycles and my body.  Sour grapes.  I worked and we didn’t get what we thought we had coming to us.  ART has permanently impacted our savings, our marriage, my health, and certainly my psyche.  And this time, it wasn’t worth any of it.

She is worth it.  Failure is not.  That’s the circle that plays in my head.  That’s why I can’t move forward with more treatment.  We can’t afford failure anymore.

~ by Larisa on January 13, 2011.

3 Responses to “sweet grapes, sour grapes”

  1. I know what you mean, probably to a smaller extent, but I DO know. I think it’s why I’m just DONE with it all. ART was so worth it because we have O. It will NOT be worth it if this cycle doesn’t work, though.


  2. I was just diagnosed with Crohn’s and the words ‘chronic incurable disease’ keep hitting me hard but reading this makes me think that infertility should be diagnosed that way. You have a disease that you can’t fix, can’t cure, and there are no easy remedies to it.

    I would assume it makes you feel very powerless, helpless, and horrible.

  3. Sigh, yes.

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