For the past six years, I have defined myself as an infertile woman. While I have many roles in my life, the infertile was first and foremost in my perception of myself. I created a barrier that protected the infertile from life and all of the things that can shake the world of said infertile. Baby stores, showers, facebook posts were all avoided. I created a hard shell that didn't fantasize about being pregnant or look up due date calculators. I didn't wander the baby aisle at Target or read reviews about baby products. I kept myself safe... most of the time. I was bitter about being infertile, but I accepted it as the fate I was given. I was getting stronger and able to share in the pregnancy and baby of one close friend.
And then I cracked the shell. I decided to do a final treatment cycle in the hopes of getting some answers and being able to fully move on. With each step of the process, I got more hopeful. It scared the crap out of me to be hopeful, but I did it. We were at the best clinic in the country. We were seeing one of the best REs in the country. I passed every test along the way and everything pointed to us ending up pregnant this time. EVERYONE thought this would work. The experts, our friends, and us.
For the first time in six years, I actually believed that I was going to be pregnant. I made plans. We talked about names and I browsed nursery themes for hours. I calculated my due date and considered when I would have to go on maternity leave. I researched my teaching contract to see what I needed to do in order to maximize leave. I imagined what my babies would look like and what their personalities might hold.
I created a path that I was sure my life was going to take. I had plans. We had plans. I had expectations of what I would be doing this weekend, next weekend, and beyond. And now I feel lost.
I am an intelligent woman. I should be able to pick up the pieces and move on. I mean, really, it is not as if this failure is a new thing. I've been there before. Somehow this time was different. I feel so very stupid that I actually thought this was going to work. I let down my guard and now I am questioning everything.
I don't want to go back to the bitter infertile woman, but she felt safe. Right now I feel raw. I feel like I am made of glass and might just shatter at any moment. I don't really want to be this fragile sad woman either. What do I really want to be? I want to be a mom more than I want anything else in this world. I want to be identified as a mom. The reality is that I can't have that identity.
So I guess for now, I am going to be the sad fragile woman until I can build another protective shell. I don't think I'll ever be able to create a complete seal. I've had a taste of hope and the "other side." I am taking things one day at a time and hope that I can come out of this stronger.