well, it's been a rough week. to be expected, i suppose. as much as i try to rationalize and intellectualize all of this, there comes a point when the denial is no longer possible. and, in my world, that pretty much means that i am on the edge of either tears or a temper tantrum at all times. luckily for those around me as well as my fragile personal possessions, it's mostly been tears so far.
or maybe i was in better psychoemotional health when i used to scream and break things. i seem to be really good at swallowing down my rage as an adult, but who knows how productive that actually is.
the hubby finally talked to the doc today. he never got ahold of him last week due to what seems to be a combination of busy and conflicting schedules as well as a general sense of either apathy or avoidance on his part. somehow, regardless of how busy my days are, i manage to fit in phone calls that are important, but perhaps he operates differently than i do. in any case, they talked this morning. again the doc said we could just wait 60-90 days because that's how long it takes the sperm to go through a complete cycle and totally re-generate, so we might get different results. the hubby said he isn't comfortable waiting because it's been quite some time with us having unprotected sex (which we called "not trying but not trying not to"), 8 months of planning and actually trying, and also his wife is an anxious basketcase. so the doc recommended a specialist... whom we promptly learned does not take any insurance.
no worries, right? we'll just go onto the insurance website and find a urologist that takes our insurance. easy. except that there aren't any within the entire city limit. not a one. so we can either switch to a different insurance plan that we can't really afford, or go to this "highly recommended" guy and spend $425 for the initial session and $275 for every visit thereafter, with tests and procedures extra, of course. meanwhile, i'm still going in for the hystogram on wednesday, which will mean missing work and being uncomfortable at best and (more likely) in a bit of pain and discomfort for a couple of days. PLUS we can't have sex until that procedure is over for at least 24 hours (likely longer since it seems i will feel like utter crap afterwards) and it seems that's precisely when i'll be ovulating this month! so even if we WANTED to TTC and take advantage of the fact that they say you're more likely to conceive after having one of these hystogram thingies, we won't be able to. awesome.
this is the kind of shit it's come down to, which is creating a good portion of my general instability at the moment. money and hassle. i don't want our sex life to be monitored and prescribed. i don't want to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars or take drugs or go through procedure after procedure just to get pregnant. oh, and adoption? by the way, did you know it runs you about $20-30k to adopt a newborn? my insurance will cover a whopping $5k of that. nice, right? and it still takes years, and you have to deal with home inspections and background checks and who knows what else. any old jane schmoe can get knocked up and have a baby and no one gives a shit, but to adopt one that needs a home they put you through the ringer. where's the justice in that?
but honestly... back to the intellectualizing and rationalizing again... i don't even feel as comfortable with the prospect of adoption as i thought i would. of course i'm open to it. but right now it's a disappointing second choice. and i would never, ever want to bring a child into my life while i'm feeling that way. i didn't used to want to have my own children, it's true. i used to entertain the idea of adoption as a wonderful possibility. but i seem to have conveniently forgotten that what made me change my mind about wanting kids was meeting someone with whom i wanted to have kids. plus it's so... complicated. adopting a newborn is difficult and expensive. adopting an older child is difficult in totally different ways. i don't think i'm ready to have a toddler or a young child walking around my house. the idea of having a tiny infant first and growing and changing with that baby seems so much more logical and so... natural. of course it's how everyone imagines it.
it just seems so unfair that it is so hard. which is what has me walking down the street spitting mad at everyone i see who's pregnant or has kids, particularly those that look pissed off about it or are -- gods help them -- yelling at their kids. i have come close to grabbing people's arms and shaking them for being so ungrateful. and the number of freakin' adorable babies and little kids on halloween? torture. positively awful. i didn't realize that i used to look at them and somewhere subconsciously imagine having my own one day. now it's like a stab in the heart every time. trying to unpack and set up our new house when i've always had -- somewhere in the back of my mind -- the vision that it would be the place where we raised a kid or two is like constant, repetitive heartbreak. i sat down in the hallway and sobbed last night when we brought upstairs the bookshelf that has always held my children's books... the collection that i've used for work but have been adding to deliberately the past couple of years for the purposes of my own future family.
i know on some level that it is still possible that things will work out. but i also have to make myself accept that there's a chance that it won't. and i'm just so angry. and so sad. and there's nothing that anyone can say or do to change that, which is why i find myself not wanting to talk to or see anyone other than the hubby. while i don't think he knows exactly know what i'm going through, he is experiencing something similar, i imagine, and is somehow able to understand how upset i am (and when to walk away, lest he get something -- say, a drill -- thrown at his head when i'm having an irrational outburst about curtain rods). i can't expect anyone else to be able to handle me right now.
except my therapist. thank the stars for mondays.
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