Months ago, I was agonizing about the idea of having multiples. Mr. T and I had openly discussed our preference of being the parents to two healthy children. We would use man to man defense and just go on about our lives. Little did I know, that about 2 weeks after I posted that entry, I would be practically on my knees begging to God for the opportunity to have another baby or babies. I didn't care and would take whatever I was given. My feelings on this haven't changed. In the end, we are so very lucky to be one step closer to fulfilling our dream of being a family of four. Which is why, the conversation I had with one of the doctors last week should NOT have caused me to get emotional.
Let's backtrack. I had an appointment with the doctor that was recommended by Dr. Compassion. I've heard wonderful things about her and was excited to finally get to meet her. She was bubbly and warm and had great things to say about Dr. Compassion. I also felt like she 'got' some of my emotional roller coaster with going through IVF and the cancellations and the surgeries and all of it. Turns out, she did 'get' it. She is parent to two adopted girls. She travelled the same path of infertility and endured several unsuccessful IVF attempts. Just hearing her share that, meant a great deal to me.
She reviewed my history and asked if Dr. Compassion had ever discussed the idea of removing my left tube. I said no, because it was scarred over and we were doing IVF anyway. I have no idea why the next sentence poured out of my mouth, but it went a little something like this. "To be honest, we are complete with this pregnancy. But, I'd never rule anything out and who know, maybe we'd have the crazy-against-all-odds story and wind up with a third." And she looked at me and paused. I then blurted out, "I'm having a hard time with the finality of this all,"
And I had put it out there. I have had this sense of finality over the past few weeks. Regardless of the facts that Mr. T and I had always planned on two children and that I am carrying the crazy-against-all-odds-baby, I feel a small, tiny bit of sadness. Please, do not read this as greed or as intentionally being insensitive to anyone still fighting tooth and nail for a baby. I mean neither. This past week has been bittersweet. I am sailing through milestones and could not be anymore elated. I am also realizing that the decision has been made for us. Even if Mr. T and I sat down and said, "Yes, we both agree. We are done." It would feel different. I guess, maybe I am just a control freak and I like to have the final word and not feel like crappy circumstances have made the decision for me.
Control and I have a very complex relationship. Almost like a love-hate one. And this lack of control over my reproductive system has been a major blow to my overall psyche. Then on the flip side, I felt overwhelmed by having too much control with deciding on an embryo transfer. It has been like walking on a tightrope for the past 18 or so months.
The emotional roller coaster of infertility doesn't just end or go away. I am learning that the emotions are different now but still intense. I say all this, but through it all, the biggest thing I am feeling is gratitude.
We both paused and I mulled through all of these thoughts and feelings in about 10 seconds, only to come out of my thoughts to see the doctor looking at me. And very kindly she said, " I would never take away a woman's fertility. This is not a conversation I would have lightly and I am the biggest believer in miracles. Yes, the stories happen. But, you will be a mother of two and a spontaneous pregnancy with a very scarred tube is not likely to have a good outcome." I told her that I felt confidant that in the end, I'd give consent to have the remaining tube removed, but last week, it felt too final.