Tomorrow will either be amazing or a very quietly experienced despair

My appointment is tomorrow for the bloodwork that says if we’re pregnant or if we have to try again.. starting from egg retrieval. As I write my dog is laying across my lap and the look on her eyes almost wants me to know it will be ok. I don’t know how animals always know when you need them, but Elvis (pup) came over when I opened up my blog app and forced me to take a moment to be mindful of being in the present with her rather than so deep in my thinking. I really don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring, but I worry that I might break. The bruises and knots from the injections aren’t unbearable (now that we know not to inject the full length of the 1.5″ needle! Good god that was horrible- if it kept going the way it was the first few days there’s no way I’d be able to keep going. Good thing it’s not as bad now..still stinks but it’s bearable) but the bigger issue is my feeling of not being enough. Maybe the embryos didn’t stick and I wasn’t as good about everything as I should have been? Maybe I didn’t eat well enough? Maybe I didn’t take enough rest? Maybe I stressed too much? Maybe I didn’t take my meds as needed? Maybe? Maybe? Anxiety about not being enough is such a horrible companion throughout this journey, and now that we’re almost 24 hours away from finding out if it was enough, if I was enough, well I’m scared. An actually, I read some quotes that were weirdly comforting about how I’m feeling:

Maybe life isn’t about avoiding the bruises, maybe it’s about collecting the scars to prove we showed up.

And 

Darling, the great are often bruised.

Let me tell you, I’m bruised- physically and mentally. I feel like I should have taken pictures of all of the bruises I’ve endured throughout this process to show the kiddos one day if they ever say I’ve never done anything for them… nah too passive aggressive. I’ve never been one to be stopped because of feeling scared of getting hurt, or scared of scars. Hell- the Sunday before our Friday wedding hubs and I did a Spartan race where I ended up having a giant rope burn down my right ankle that freaked out our photographer when they went to do our shoe photos- I know life is meant for living, not for looking perfect, and yet here I am two months before my 30th birthday afraid of what I’ll find out tomorrow. I am strong and I’ve weathered much worse so far in my life and yet the fear is right there sitting on my shoulder whispering in my ear telling me I’m about to break. I asked hubs not to plan on attending the appointment tomorrow (after all it’s what a 15 minute appointment and he’d have to come back from Michigan for it and then drive back? Yeah ok.) for two reasons. Mostly because I want to be able to tell him if we’re pregnant. I feel so increasingly robbed from all of this- from not being able to try naturally, to all of the invasive procedures, to taking something so happy and turning it into something miserable and painful and clinical, to not having my husband- my best friend- in the room with me during the embryo transfer (yeah that one hurt the most, but chin up because I can’t let on to hubs just how devastating that was for me. Yup, three people all up in my lady bits followed by laying in a darkened room by yourself for 5 minutes while having to pee wondering if you made the right choices and then going to the bathroom and reminding yourself that you are not going to pee out the embryos and to just relax- totally my first preference for having kids… yours too? Oh good, we’re all on the same page there 😛 )… you know I just want to be the one to tell my husband that we’re pregnant. I don’t want that taken from me. Given- we’re probably going to be doing that by FaceTime, but whatever, I’ve lost that ability to tell hubs in person because of his new job, but at least I get to tell him damnit! …but the other reason is because if we’re not pregnant, well. I don’t want him to see me like that. While he will eventually see me in that level of despair, and trust me it will be a long process, I can’t let him see the deepest darkest corners of my despair yet. I don’t let anyone in that deep- I don’t even let myself see that side of me very often (talk about defense mechanisms!) . And that’s saying something  as hubs knows pretty much ALL of my secrets, my pitfalls, the bad and ugly sides, and he’s been around for almost half of my life (ok we’re not quite there yet, but 12 out of 30 years is pretty darn close!) and I don’t think I can recover and go about my life with him seeing that side yet. On that note, I made a really bad choice. I scheduled my bloodwork for tomorrow at 1pm- I have work in the morning (no biggie) but then I go back to work after for a few hours. I should have just rescheduled my clients in the afternoon. It’s not fair to them if I find out bad news…. it’s a good thing I can compartmentalize my own stuff when I’m with clients. It’s also a good thing that the people I’m seeing tomorrow are long time clients and I know what types of things they’ll bring up and NONE of it relates to babies. For the next time we do this (whether to try again or to expand our family further), I’m going to remember to take more days off and love myself more. I’ve always put others before myself, which has a lot to do with our decision to pursue this option, and loving myself and honoring my emotions is something I’m constantly working to improve. Next time I’ll be doing a few things differently. 

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