Tumbling Through the Rabbit Hole...
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Posted by Haisla Saturday, 21 June 2014

I sometimes write blog posts that are so depressing and self-pitying that they don't even really deserve to be released into the blogosphere (this is a sentiment often expressed by IF bloggers around cycle day 1, so I will join their choir today)..

This might be one of those posts, I fear; a post that perhaps should have been left for my eyes only.
So I can only apologise to you in advance and give you a strong prior-warning to enter at your own peril. For those of you joining here from ICLW, even deeper apologies for this fairly depressing introduction - I promise it is not always this bleak out on planet Endoland and that I will post a little recap of the journey so far and a better introduction in the coming days. Unfortunately this is what you'll be stuck with today:

AF has arrived again, and together with it, the crash and burn of a progesterone come-down.

As I have said before and will say again, I dread to think how I will fare when on synthetic progesterone. I can only imagine being a god-awful mess, if this is anything to go by.

And this is the problem of infertility blogging, especially for a girl like me, for whom, so it feels, nothing ever happens (IF-wise, that is). I'm just treading water, re-hashing the same old feelings, thoughts, responses, month after month. I can take the needed emotions out of the closet and line them neatly on the bed each month in anticipation of the arrival of the dreaded nemesis. It's become a well practiced routine, with only slight variations. I can pretend that it is not happening, I can play down the levels of hope. But every month, I lay out my emotions on the bed in wait for the arrival of the inevitable, in the hopes that being organised and ready will somehow lessen the pain.

It is monotonous and it is boring; it is even boring me writing this.

In many ways it's not actually like treading water at all, because at least with water you can imagine a beautiful beach or at least a pool where you can let go and just float to the top.

Not so, in this crap-fest.

If it's unlike treading water, then perhaps it is more like going around in ever decreasing circles, visiting the same sights with each passing month, with nothing new to experience or see or say, because it is pretty much just the same each time. I feel jaded and I don't know how many more circles I can go around, before I just go f*cking crazy.

I just want something to happen; something, ANYTHING. Give me a false positive, a chemical pregnancy, betas that are wonky, even a miscarriage (and please don't judge me for these thoughts, for of course I know that each and every one of those scenarios is a terrible tragedy and I would not wish them on my worst enemy), just anything that is not this nothingness, this absence, this blank where there ought to be a pink line, this blood in the panty liner, this bloating, this spirit-sapping, soul-destroying monthly little death. Because, yes, without wishing to sound melodramatic (which I obviously do), that's how it feels each month. A little bit of me dies inside. A little bit of hope, a little bit of that heady innocence, a little bit of the person that I used to be. It is being gnawed away by the greedy b*tch that is Infertility, and I have a feeling that she wants to leave nothing behind once she is done. How long I will allow her to gnaw away at me is anyone's guess. Because the other option is stopping, and that seems somehow even more unimaginable.

So I moan and I groan and I allow Infertility to gnaw away. It seems like a small price to pay when the ultimate prize is having your own biological child. But it does leave me wondering - who will I be when (if) the much expected finally happens? Because as well as being gnawed away, it feels like something else is growing back to replace the bits that were injured or lost. Something tougher and more leathery. Like emotional scar tissue.

And what if I don't get pregnant? Will the level of scarring I am allowing myself to go through be acceptable should I have nothing to show for it? Or will I forever regret that I allowed myself to become so greatly altered? Perhaps it'll pay to have a thicker skin?

So as well as moaning and groaning I try to insulate myself. With gratitude, with positivity, with prayer; by looking after myself mentally, physically, spiritually. But all the insulation in the world won't stop the gnawing from taking place, and I have to recognise that at the end of this process I will be forever changed. And that it is up to me to decide to what extent I will allow my emotional landscape to be ravaged.

I know that for myself I will have to let this carry on for a while still. Because I am not yet ready to stop.


Jen said...

Hi from ICLW, I am so sorry you have go through this. I know it sucks. Chin up!

Haisla said...

Thanks Jen for dropping by. I just wanted to say that it's not always as awful as this. Sometimes the awfulness just seems to condense and then requires release. Thanks for your kind words..x

Jessica Martin said...

I have never had any pregnancies, never seen a real (non-trigger) BFP. And I can totally relate to your comment about wanting to see a BFP, even if it ends in a chemical pregnancy or miscarriage (both are HORRIBLE things). I know either scenario would probably break me more than I already am, but at least it would be SOMETHING. I feel like I've been in and will probably be in this place again many more times. Infertility sucks.

Megan said...

Oh man, do I feel you. I just spent three years of nothing and feeling exactly like you do here - like walking around in circles in an empty room, trying to find a door, and starting care less and less about what's on the other side of the door as long as I can GO THROUGH.

Lisa {Amateur Nester} said...

Hi from ICLW... so sorry you're going through this. Infertility sucks.

TwoPlusOne said...

We've all been through this (and who knows how many more times we will in the future), so I can totally relate. That elusive BFP that feels so easy for people around us! We should be used to this by now, but it never gets easier, does it?
Hope you are feeling better now, and ready to soldier on (again)..

Laura Hug said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

Haisla! I am following your blog, but it doesn't seem to come up in my reader. I popped over to check in, and am only seeing this now.
This: "who will I be when (if) the much expected finally happens? Because as well as being gnawed away, it feels like something else is growing back to replace the bits that were injured or lost. Something tougher and more leathery. Like emotional scar tissue."
Exactly. I am worried I will lose myself in this process, which doesn't have nice neat end points or clear cut decisions, but just endless ifs and maybes.
I'm sorry you ended up back on day one. I hope day 6 is treating you better, and that you did something nice for yourself while in the mourning period (pun intended).

JCH4DCU said...

I would POAS after my trigger shot just to remember what a BFP looked like. I would lie and say I was testing out my trigger but that was never really true.

I totally understand how you feel that even a chemical would bring a level of encouragement. My last IUI was a chemical and I found so much encouragement that, at the very least, sperm met egg. First time in over a year.
No way am I judging you for feeling that way.

Haisla said...

Thanks so much all of you for your kind comments (soon I'll need to learn how to respond to each comment individually, but for now I'll just have to make do with a group reply).

It really is just so reassuring to know that I'm not the only one who feels this way. Sometimes I wonder whether I might be going a little insane with all of this.. I think CD1 is the worst what with the terrible hormone come-down coupled with the crushing realisation that yet another cycle has ended in a failure. It's tough, having to continually grieve yet another mini-loss, with nothing tangible show for it.

I am feeling much more chipper now. It's so helpful to have a little space to rant and rave. I feel like I got it out of me system. Thank goodness for the blogosphere and thanks for your support! Am ready to soldier on again.. : )

Emma R said...

Hi from ICLW. You're right, having a space to rant and rave IS helpful. I know it helped me after my miscarriage. HUGS

Northern Star said...

Hi Haisla,

Oh man, I wish there was something I could say to make you feel even a tiny bit better. I have endo myself and so I know what you're going through. Month after month I faced the same cycle - ovulation pain, then more pain (always wondering if it was implantation pain, the first symptoms of pregnancy, etc.), followed by my period (accompanied by more pain). Worse than the pain was the heartache that once again my body had failed to create or sustain a baby.

So I get it.

I am now a mama through open adoption and for our family, it is awesome. It took us a long time to get to where we are today (happy parents of a thriving, laughing, beautiful 16 month old little girl), but I can honestly say that the heartache has made me a better, more appreciative, more present mom.

Wishing you all the best on your journey. Hugs.

Jessah @ Dreaming of Dimples said...

You're a beautiful writer and have captured my feelings with this post. I'm sorry you're in the part of IF where is sucks and nothing happens. But thankfully, we do evolve and grow and maybe someday not having your bio child won't be the worst thing in the world. As I move into egg donation (something I thought would be a horrifying if the doctor determined it was my best chance of success) and I'm actually excited and happy. Wishing you all the best on your journey…because as you so eloquently wrote…it is a process. Hugs to you!

Haisla said...

Thanks Northern Star and Jessah for your compassionate comments. It is really reassuring to know that there can be so much light and hope and joy found 'on the other side' (be 'the other side' reached through adoption, egg donation or whatever means - I've been following both your journeys and they just give me so much hope) once all the sadness and pain has been processed through. xx

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