How much do I want this?

Wilma and I spoke today for a little while, about what happened the other day and how we both feel. As it turns out, she didn’t even realize what she’d said until I snapped at her in my own anger. She thought about it, figured it out, and left before she made things worse. So we spoke about why she was so angry, whether at me or at herself.

She doesn’t want to be pregnant. Not because she doesn’t want another child, but because I’m not pregnant. She wants us to be fat and happy and pregnant on the couch together, convincing our husbands to do all manner of things for us while we watch Gilmore Girls together. It’s what she wanted for the first one too, but I couldn’t make it happen. She knows it’s not my fault, and she wants more than anything for me to be the one to say “Wilma, I’m pregnant”. Once again she’s offered to be a surrogate for me if I ever need one – she demands to be on the top of my list. Considering she’s the only one… 🙂

Wilma is also very frustrated with me. She sees that when I want something, I rearrange the budget and I get it. We wanted to buy the house – or rather, we didn’t want Aaron’s parents to lose it, so we bought it. It wasn’t the best idea ever, but we can handle it. We also just bought a car – not planned, exactly, but we can handle that too. Both of those mean that I don’t get to pay off debt nearly as fast as I could have without those extra payments. She doesn’t understand why I don’t just rearrange the budget again and “buy” a baby. What she does see is that I tried one IUI and gave up. How could she know the heartbreak I went through doing that?

I tried to explain – I can take out a loan for a house, buy a house, and have a house. I can take out a loan for a car, buy a car, have a car. I take out a loan for IVF, go through all the drugs and mood swings, all the hope and stress…and have nothing. I do it again…and nothing. I simply can’t justify spending $75,000 on 6 IVF’s with nothing to show for it. I don’t see wanting to make myself spend 30 years paying off those loans with monthly payments – the heartbreak of writing that check every month, knowing that I’m paying for the babies I was never able to have. Sure, maybe the first one will work. Maybe it won’t. I didn’t find out until after my IUI that it only had a 13% chance of working. Had I known that upfront, I might have decided not to do it. I thought I had a 50% chance, or even a normal 20% chance. 13% wasn’t enough to pin my hopes on.

Why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I live my life like all those other oblivious people out there who don’t know jack shit about their cycles? Those who have unprotected sex in the backseat of their car and get pregnant without thinking about it. Those who never stop to think where they are in their cycle when they want to have a drink. Who don’t plan for the family they may or may not ever have when buying a house or a car, who can walk through the baby section at Wal-Mart without wondering if they’ll ever have the chance to buy all the cute things for their own children. I know they exist – I meet them every day. They Email me after two years to tell me these things. But this is all another post for another day – perhaps after I get used to my new anti-depressants and am not so emotional.

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