Sometimes I want to quit.
I'm not a quitter by nature. I'm a fighter. I've always been someone who works really hard toward a goal, and I have to say that I've achieved every serious goal I've put my mind to. But this goal, this elusive goal that I've desired so badly for the last 19 months, seems like it never gets any closer. Sometimes I ask myself, "What if I just stopped?" What would happen? I bet a lot of non-IFers would say, "Then you'll probably get pregnant, silly! That's always what happens when people stop trying."
But really, what would happen to me? I'm a different person now that I've started this. I think that even if I threw in the towel today, I would never be the same. My heart and my head are both in different places than they were before this journey started. I've grown up. I'm not interested in the same trivial things that used to amuse me.
They say marriage changes you, but I disagree. Hardship within your marriage changes you. Don't take this the wrong way. Joey and I are great. Our six-year relationship has grown to its strongest point in the last 19 months. He is the only person in my life who completely understands what it would feel like for us, as a couple, to never have children. We share the same hopes and the same fears. Neither of us have patience for immaturity and stupidity in our friendships. And both of us are doing everything we can to protect ourselves and work toward achieving the same goal: a child.
I made the mistake today of reading Stephanie Saul's latest column, and I made an even bigger mistake when I read the comments. It saddens me to hear how people still believe that having children through the use of ART is some kind of terrible "sin", how those of us seeking fertility treatments are going straight to hell, and how we just want a child to carry around like a token. Yes, that's exactly why I'm going THROUGH hell trying to have a child. Because I want a baby to dress up like a doll. If that's what I wanted, I'd buy a fucking Cabbage Patch Kid.
Sorry, back on track . . .
What would happen if I just stopped trying?
Sometimes I'm exhausted and I think I want to, but I don't know if it's in my blood to just stop. Part of me would always be looking in the rear-view mirror wondering if I made the right decision. Part of me would feel like I bigger failure if I didn't continue to try. Part of me would fight until I was so physically and mentally exhausted, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. There are times when I sit back and think about life without children. I've never wanted to imagine my life without kids, but every failed treatment brings this possibility closer and closer to reality.
But for now, I keep fighting.