Annual

    I had my annual appointment this morning. I don’t know what I expected, but I ended up leaving in tears. I guess maybe I was thinking my doctor (actually, she is a nurse practitioner) would be more sympathetic or she would offer some different hope. Something. Anything. Instead, when I told her how the Infertility Doctor was pushing IVF, she suggested I go back and ask them if there is anything else they can do to help us financially. She didn’t ask what they have tried so far (although, I suppose she had all the information in my chart, so she was pretty much up-to-date) or add any different suggestions. She did tell me to not give up hope (uh, too late) and that to keep using the metformin because she has seen cases where that medicine alone can start ovulation which can lead to pregnancy. That’s it. Wait for the magic pill to take effect. And grovel for financial assistance. She is sending me for a test of my vitamin D level (unrelated to infertility) but I don’t give a dam. I am sick and tired of leaving doctor’s offices in tears. And as I walked to my car through the cold rain, I couldn’t help but think that there is no hope for someone in the working class who is infertile. It’s all about the almighty dollar. The golden rule – whoever has the gold makes the rules. Financially, my husband and I do not deserve a baby because we cannot pay for the procedures.
     The nurse who saw me before the doctor was nice, but when she asked if I had any problems and I told her infertility, she spent 5 minutes telling me how loooong her daughter had tried and now they have “Sophie.” Maybe I am too hard hearted or hard headed, but this is not encouraging to me. I don’t give a dam about “Sophie.” We don’t want “Sophie” we want our own baby. Then, the nurse told me she hopes things work out for us because it “looks” like I would be a good mother. I wonder, what does a good mother, without a child, look like? I know she meant well, but I think I hate her.
     So, I think I have de-bunked “The Secret” as being plausible for infertility. See, the idea is that what you think about you bring about and that through the law of attraction you create your own life. On the CD, all these “big thinkers” or whatever you want to call them, liken the law of attraction to placing an order in a cosmic catalog. Page 52, letter F, yes I would like the one in cornflower blue. If I stopped to count how many times I imagine a baby in my arms in one day, I’m sure it would be in the 10’s of thousands. If I could remember all the dreams I have had about children or babies, it might be too numerous to count. Given the numerous times I have positively imagined having a baby, getting/being pregnant, why our house should be brimming with millions of babies! But, it is not. We are here. This is the third time I have gone to see my doctor for my annual, still wanting a baby and still feeling the pain of my empty arms. When will this end?
     The other night Flaco brought a list of complaints to me about our lives and just a lot of things. One of the things he brought up was that he doesn’t feel our relationship is as strong as it had been. And, he wondered (out loud) if it is wise to continue pursuing a baby with what he perceives as a bumpy road up ahead. I nearly lost my mind. I told him this was the most cruel thing he could have said to me (and before he said this, he accused me of “letting myself go” – which I think is pretty dam cruel knowing the issues I already have about my body and body image in general). I wish I could go on a nice long vacation ala Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love (not that I want to cheat on my husband – he could be the love at the end). But, just that drop everything and go. Go eat pasta in Italy. Go to India (but I couldn’t do that Buddha convent thing – I just couldn’t). Go to Bali and find love. But, that is not my life. I go to work. I do what is expected of me. I am responsible. “I’m dying inside, and nobody knows it but me.” I would like to hit the rewind button – I would like to request a do-over. I would like the old me back. But, she is gone. Her belief in getting what she wants in life has long passed away. She is now just a sad shell of who she could have been. Without a heart, she is slowly dying. Let us all mourn her passing with a moment of silence . . . .