The chaos of moving house kept me pretty distracted these past couple of months, but then out of the blue, I'll just have a very bad day.
In the more than two years now of actively trying to conceive, waiting, diagnostic testing, more waiting, treatments, and more waiting, I know how trying and stressful this process is. I know that when you are in a cycle, or approaching a cycle, time seems to stand still.
But I can also promise you that distraction makes the down time, the long waits, pass - with less agony.
Yes, every celebrity baby post will eat away at your heart, and real friends with real babies will hurt even more, but it gets easier. I'm now enough cycles out from my last failed transfer to stop counting, and didn't even visit my fertility board for two or three weeks. Yes, I'm out of touch with how my ladies are doing, but I've also kept my mind occupied with other things and poof, time flies! It felt like forever when I made the decision to wait six months to try my frozen transfer, but now I'm half-way there! I have reached out to a new clinic, making inquiries about shipping my embryo, and I could drive myself nuts waiting for a reply, and waiting for an appointment, while checking expedia for airfares back to my old clinic and guestimating how long I would have to stay, and then start stressing about the physical stress of travel... it's a vicious cycle you see. So instead, I am better off keeping my mind busy with work (now that I work at home though, much more opportunity for mind-wandering) or online browsing for new dining chairs. Or figuring out how to reset the clock on my oven...
The hardest part about the move was giving away baby things. Each time was like ripping off a band-aid and often involved tears. Giving to someone in need made it easier - at least I knew it was going to get used. Some things were sold. Some things were put out at the curb but never by me as that is not something I could do. Somethings were smuggled aside, sorted later in private, and a few things even smuggled into my suitcase and into the back of the closet with the "out of season" clothes so my partner doesn't know I kept them. The brusk efficient manner of the movers made me think some days I could have smuggled a little more, a few more baby clothes or maternity clothes, but it's done, it's gone - a basement full of things for baby number two, never to be used again by me anyway. And it made me very sad at the time, but I try not to think about it. Back to new dining chairs and resetting the oven clock. Before I know it, I'll be popping estrace pills in preparation for my frozen transfer.
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