In the light of my first injection of HCG last night, I've had some interesting thoughts.
I'm a goal-oriented person, an obsessive list-maker and before all of the infertile business, I was very unfamiliar with failure. We've spent the past three years consumed with trying to make a baby. We went from temperatures, to charting, to Clomid, to a HSG then to an infertility clinic (where I had the joy of the dildocam and blood tests) and acupuncturist then to a NaproTechnology doctor. I have no idea how much money we've spent (I'm scared to do that accounting!) or how much time and emotion we've invested in making our baby JellyBelly.
After three years I've reached a point where I just feel numb. I no longer feel sad when AF arrives and I'm actually not even surprised. I take the drugs that my doctor gives me to lengthen my luteal phase without complaint. I visit the doctor and numbly take the diagnosis that certain drugs seem to not have worked. I even learned how to give myself needles despite my lifelong aversion and horrible fear.
But despite going through all of the motions of trying to make a baby, I can't seem to wrap my head around ever actually making one. I feel that my infertility has become such a big part of my life that it's become my identity (although a secret one to most). Have I gotten to this point as self-preservation? Or has the long road to making a baby distracted me from the end result?
I feel like I need a new distraction. Perhaps it's a good thing that school starts very soon...