On

It's been since September of last year, when we last set foot on our RE's office. It was a bittersweet visit because we knew we weren't going back anytime soon. As I said goodbye to the receptionist, tears welled up in my eyes, but they couldn't come out. I didn't let them. Enough tears had been shed in that place. We knew we needed a break, a time away from all the madness. But a part of me didn't want to let go. I knew that there was a slim to non existent chance of me becoming pregnant the "natural way". Stepping away from treatments meant a very strong chance of no pregnancy. Of course, there are some people who believe in miracles. There's always that urban legend meant to give people like us hope, about the couple who stopped fertility treatments and suddenly conceived. I consider myself way to practical to fall into that. Cynicism would be a better word to describe it. I knew what our problems were and conceiving the "natural way" seemed like complete bullshit at this point. Urban legends my ass.

Anyway, we stepped away physically from the process. And when I say physically it's because emotionally it's all I could think of. I know that for A it was easier to take a break. I was the one left with the physical emptiness of the miscarriage. I wanted that void to be filled fast. But there are no easy ways out when dealing with all of this. There are no sure remedies to mend a heart that has been broken into so many pieces. Time seemed like the only good idea.

Unfortunately there was no fool proof method to reset my mind in order to accept that we were on a break. True, we kind of lost our souls in the midst of that last cycle, but I felt even more lost when we stopped the treatments. The treatments had become my life. Giving myself the shots were a daily ritual... testing on cheap pregnancy tests had become my own kind of drug. Stopping felt so sudden. So forceful. The money was scarce... our hopes were down- what else was left to do?

We knew that we deserved to try at least to enjoy the holidays without the worries that another month of treatments would surely bring. The holidays came and went and although being able to drink was a nice change of pace, one which I took full advantage of, it still felt like moving trough quick sand. The much talked about, miraculous conception didn't make it's appearance. The relief of the stress was only an illusion. The absence of pain was only fleeting.

Time passed and the need to try again was strong. I kept it a secret from A since I didn't want to spoil the peace he had apparently found. He wasn't completely oblivious... of course he knew, because every time we would pass a pregnant woman he gave me that look, which in turn broke my heart a little bit more. In the meantime I tucked away my mommy dreams and focused on other things instead. Nothing filled the void, though. Time passed ever so slowly... painfully slow... but it passed nonetheless.

And that brings us to this point. We are on the verge of starting it all over again and if I'm being truthful, it scares the shit out of me. It keeps me up at night. The anticipation... the doubts... the unknown. Even though the idea of making that phone call to the RE's office to set up a new appointment was in part responsible for keeping me sane and hopeful all of this time, it's intimidating.  Starting up again... beginning from scratch. The shots... the trips (since the office is almost three hours from our town)... the blood tests... the possible surgery, everything seems more daunting this time. Because there's no blissful ignorance like there was in the beginning. That stage is over. I'm going into this already jaded. Scarred. But there are no options. This is it. If we really want this (and we do!) there's no other way. Calls will be made, appointments will be set, procedures will be scheduled and there will be not a single space for doubt. 

So the time is approaching. The time to close our eyes, cross our fingers and jump in yet again... hopefully we will land on our feet this time.