The fact is, there is a whirling mess of emotions going round and round inside of me. Hope is certainly one of them. But stronger than any others are fear and guilt. By now, I know a lot about being infertile and childless, but what do I know about being a mother? I am an aunt, a big sister, and I've been a baby sitter, but all of those pale in comparison to the overwhelming task of being Mom. There is no handing the child back when you are Mom; you are the one that everyone else hands the child to. Given our financial situation, I am also wondering how we could possible afford a baby; those new tires certainly didn't help. As of right now, Husbandido would have to work 160 hours of overtime and get paid for them before Oct. 1 for us to get completely dug of our mess. (This is where I know I should be trusting God to provide, but I'm still quite terrified.) We do have something of an absolutely last-ditch emergency fund if we have no other choice, but we are trying hard to avoid tapping it. I'm not old old, but I'm past the point of the dreaded "Advanced Maternal Age" and all the increased risks that come with it. Being infertile and childless has become comfortable, and I almost wonder if I want to leave it. (Told you those insanity producing hormones were powerful.)
Even if that home test is positive, I don't think I would yet be confident that our wait would be over. I'm not even sure when I would be comfortable thinking of it as "having a baby." Certainly not until after blood tests looked good, but even still, I can't help but feel like I know too much. Yes, the odds may be good after you hear a heartbeat or make it past 12 weeks, but knowing so many who have suffered even late losses, I am scared. Yes, I am still having some early pregnancy symptoms, but I do not feel remotely as queasy as I did during our brief previous pregnancy. (My mother will sometimes remind me that every pregnancy is different, and that having such symptoms really doesn't say anything about the health of the child. All of which is certainly true but not particularly reassuring.) I am scared of losing another child; as much as I want to hope, I am scared to.
The other dominant emotion in this maelstrom is guilt. So many of my friends have been through so much more than I have, trying longer, having surgeries, or multiple losses that if we are so blessed, it doesn't seem right or fair that it should be us, who have suffered comparatively little. I know there isn't a set amount of suffering that one must endure to be rewarded with a baby; really, I do know that. And of course, I know that if we have conceived, it in no way affects anyone else's chances; there is not a finite number of babies to go around. But I worry that us conceiving on our very first NaPro cycle would feel like a slap in the face to those who have endured so much more. The last thing I would want is to cause my friends pain. I also wonder what would happen to the wonderful friendships I have cultivated with others going through IF. No, the friendships wouldn't necessarily end, but they would certainly change, just as your friendships with your single friends change when you marry.
I know that all this fear and worry aren't doing me any good, that I need to just hand it all over to Him and trust in His plans. (It's just hard.)
I'd like to leave you with a song that I am finding comforting right now, addressing the question of "Why?," helping me remember that I will likely never know, at least this side of heaven.