Wishing it were otherwise
When JJ persuaded Mare, Jen and me to get off our long-winded arses and start our own blogs, instead of filling up the comments on a trying-to-conceive buddy group we all had joined, the three of us were comparatively fresh-faced and dewey-eyed. We'd each been trying for a fair while --a year, maybe more--and were starting to feel a bit worn down, but injectibles and procedures were still to come. I remember thinking myself a bit of a fraud for even labeling myself "infertile"; I hadn't really paid my dues, at least not by comparison to so many in Blogland. I mean, all three of us were still having sex at that point, and actually holding out hope for a result each cycle. We knew something was not quite right, but the possibilities for diagnosis and repair were endless.
Me, I had a feeling--a maudlin, pessimistic feeling (don't I always)--that I would end up in the deep end. But I kept expecting, hopefully but with a fair lump of envy, that Jen and Mare would get that positive one unmedicated IUI, or on some Mediterranean vacation. But that didn't happen, and it didn't happen, and it didn't happen some more. And while our paths were very different, they ended up in the same place: IVF, Summer 2005.
I know I shouldn't have expected us to go three-for-three, but I was sure that, if it was two-for-three, I would be the one who struck out. So when I got a positive, and then Jen got a positive, I was certain that Mare would make it three. And when I eagerly opened Bloglines to read her post last week, full of optimism for good news, I couldn't really take it in for a few minutes. And then I started to cry.
Mare, I wish to god you didn't have to deal with this pain. It hurts so much, and it lasts so long, and there is no fairness in it. With all my heart, I wanted this to work for you.