A week and a half ago, while awaiting a response from M on the status of our genetic testing, E and I had been exchanging emails. At one point she said this:
“I did want to tell you that Dr. T recently had a patient that had a second loss with the same diagnosis as you. She has two healthy children. You never know when one piece of information can give you hope.”
I didn’t know what to think about that. I still don’t know what to think. I realize the point she was trying to get across but reading that didn’t really evoke any strong emotional reaction in me.
My response to that comment was:
As for the hope, I know this goes against the grain and I’m probably not “supposed” to say things like this, but I almost don’t want any hope. I would love for the results to come back saying that yes, there is something in our DNA and we can never have a biological child so that I can close the door on this and move on to adoption or donor material without always wondering “What if we had tried just one more time…” I’m not saying I would love the diagnosis, but I would love the finality. I know that we could move on now, and we don’t even need the results back to decide to move on, but I think having results like that would make it much easier to swallow and I wouldn’t always be wondering if I gave up too soon or if “Just one more try” would have done it. I’m not looking forward to having to make a decision if the tests come back and we don’t get an answer.
I feel like a weirdo saying I don’t want hope. Aren’t we all supposed to have hope? Isn’t that why we are here and why we keep going? I do hope to have a child one day. I do hope to have a family. I hope to raise a child, to love a child, to share my favorite things, to be a family. Help with homework. Go on vacations. Go to dance recitals or baseball games or debates or science fairs. Whatever it is. To learn new things about myself and The Husband, to push myself, to share experiences. Change diapers, clean messes, to see my patience be tested. To see my dog with a little human. I hope for all of that.
But as for my feelings toward hope, and I think I alluded to it in my WTF? post, maybe if I just accepted this situation as hopeless I could move on quicker instead of dragging this out. I’ve already lost three babies in three years of trying- shouldn’t that be enough to convince me it’s time to pursue other options? Do I need to have these test results back in order to accept the situation for what it appears to be?
I keep going back and forth. Immediately after Baby 3’s diagnosis I was convinced it was time to move on to adoption. I reached out to other bloggers who had adopted or were in the process to get their feedback and advice. I reached out to my friend K, whose cousin adopted a son two years ago so she could ask them which local agency they used and what they thought. Then time wore on, and I decided to sit back, relax, and not make any decisions. And then I decided that we could do IVF with PGD if the genetic results revealed a cause. And then three weeks ago I decided again that we should adopt. Then last week, incredibly, I decided that we should just try naturally again because now, instead of taking regular old folate, I am taking methylfolate and that is going to help me (not sure why I decided that is the golden ticket) and I was just having a hard time believing we could experience a third NTD (not sure why I was suddenly feeling so invincible.)
So really I have been back and forth and all over the place, driving myself crazy with what I should or shouldn’t do. And that results in me not wanting to deal with it. The Husband and I haven’t really talked much about it – I think we had a silent agreement that we would just discuss everything once the test results came back. Of course we discussed the delay in testing, and he is frustrated by that too, but as for what to do next he kind of just defers to me or says “Let’s just wait and see.” Wait, wait, wait. I’m so sick of waiting. Every day I wait feels like a day closer to the day I go in to early menopause or my ovaries just shrivel and die. And, nobody could help a girl out by getting the genetic testing done in a timely fashion so that just makes it worse.