I haven't been posting much, not only because of the fact that I can no longer do so during the day at work, but also because really, I haven't had much to say. Life has been surprisingly (and blessedly) infertility-angst-free for me of late. Not sure if that's because we have a plan (albeit one which will not be realized for several months), because I really worked through my feelings of grief and loss in my (four) counseling sessions, or if it's just a temporary glitch. Whichever the reason is, I'll take it.
I'm doing so well that I was even able to interact closely with an 11-month-old baby at my office today. . . . a baby whose mother is a complete stranger to me, I might add. (He was the visiting nephew of a coworker I don't really know at my new job.) And I received the news that the 21-year-old unmarried pregnant file clerk at my office delivered her second child today without much emotion at all.
Years ago, I remember seeing a button (remember when buttons were all the rage? I may be dating myself here) that said "Since I gave up hope, I feel much better." Actually, that kind-of sums up my current emotional state. Since I've given up hope of conceiving a child naturally, with my own eggs and without intervention, I feel much better.
That said, I have not given up hope of parenthood. No, I confess that I still have hope that DE will make us parents. We have our initial consultation at our chosen clinic the first Friday in February (I am going to keep the city and clinic names confidential here for privacy reasons, but email me if you are looking for a DE program and are interested), which will be our first step on the path. (Well, aside from our ongoing plan to save as much of the hefty cost of a cycle as we can.)
I have developed a routine of checking the donor database at our clinic once a day on average, just to see whether any new donors have been added who might fit what we are looking for or whether any of our "favorites" have cycled or been taken out of the database. "Checking up on my girls," I call it. It's odd and comforting at the same time.
So that's where I'm at. Life in general is busy and full, but life on the TTC front is quiet.