That I just kept putting off writing it down. I kept thinking I'd do it later.
I made it through what seemed like milestones to me. Check off having the mock transfer. Check off going around my principal and actually getting medical leave from school from HR. Check off starting to give myself injections. Check off starting the monitoring and bloodwork. Check off telling my mother the news of what I was trying to do. Check off getting transportation arranged and getting my injections in before boarding my flight.
But I hit a snag with the monitoring and bloodwork. My estrogen levels aren't high enough and my follicles aren't growing. Despite the fact that I am on day ten of the most aggressive drug protocol. I am not responding. I am stuck.
Today, the doctor advised that we cancel this cycle. There is no point in going forward. In fact, there may not be any point in trying anything else. There is only one other protocol that is used as a last resort, he said, and there's a 50% chance that I end up right where I am now. He really recommends using donor eggs. So donor eggs and donor sperm...
My mother called me this past Monday to tell me that the news of what I was doing "devastated" my father. She needed me to understand, she said, what I was putting him through. I told her that I only had a 1 in 10 chance of getting pregnant and carrying a baby to term. She and Dad had a 9 in 10 chance that I wouldn't be able to do so. I just can't stomach the thought of seeing them knowing that, for them, this is good news.
I am tired. I so wanted a child of my own. I know adoption and the donor programs are great. I know from my classroom that you don't have to be related to a child to love that child. I know it's selfish. But I wanted my own. One that was mine. That said I have been on this earth and made a difference. One that would feel the connection to me of blood, of belonging. One that I could think had my eyes or hair, my love of music, other family quirks. One that I could share my stories of my grandparents journeys and lives with. After 17 years of taking care of other peoples' children, watching some people without a thought or care have one after the other - one mom described it as a welfare raise - I wanted one for me, all for me, from the start. Knowing now that that cannot happen is very hard.
I cannot believe that I put this off to the point that I no longer have a chance. I feel like my body, my system, has betrayed me. Which sounds so dumb. I know that sounds melodramatic. It's not like I am making a conscious choice. I feel like I suck. I am failing at something that is supposed to be natural. I am broken as a woman. I bear the mark of the curse each month but won't be able to benefit from the good that can come from that. I cannot tell how many fifth grade girls I've had conversations with along the lines of, "yes it does suck to have this pain but do you want kids someday in the future? Yes. Well, this part stinks but someday you'll be glad to have gone through it." This is awful. I'm so disappointed. I knew my odds weren't great but I thought I'd at least get the chance to try. 1 in 10 shifted to 0. And more dreams are dying.
Last year, I had a fifth grade girl in one of my classes think she was pregnant. Eleven years old and the mother's response, when she was told that the girl had written a note to her boyfriend saying the "scare" was over, was just that her elder sister had had a baby at fifteen and she probably would too. No problems. Just a baby having a baby. No need to discuss that with her daughter. 12 or 15 what does it matter when they have the baby... Seems to me that there's a big difference there. Can you imagine a pregnant fifth grader? Does it make anyone else angry that someone like that can have four or five kids but so many of us can't even get one?
