I read all the blogs on the Stirrup Queens blogroll and find so much comfort from them. The brave souls that shout from the roof top their cycle days, treatments, and loss. I cheer for them. And sometimes I cry for them too. But I, myself, am not that brave. To tell the world of my hurt? My disappointment? My anger? My jealousy? Then I would no longer be the strong confident person that is handling this all so well.
I have a webpage/blog that I keep updated for friends and distant family, people that I know in RL. I am very proud of it. It is well written with accounts of what we did over the weekend and places that we have traveled and pictures of smiling faces. Most of the entries end with the sentiment of "happily ever after." It is all true but yet it doesn't begin to scratch the surface of I am feeling on the inside. Living with only very few people knowing is starting to feel like I'm living a lie.
I also wonder if it is too late for me to start a blog about infertility. . .my infertility. I have long past the times of innocent s.e.x., the feeling of control from charting, the discussion with hubby that I think something is wrong, the first appointment with an RE and the feel of those cold stirrups, the hope of Femara, the pain of 2 HSG's, the confusion of a second opinion, and the finality of the term "both tubes are blocked".
Instead I begin my story at the starting line of IVF. . .with all hope but also with a whirlwind circling around me and inside me. The whirlwind includes a hubby that just doesn't process the situation the same way as I do (thank goodness, sometimes), a BFF with her own troubles and baby wishes, a bank account that can handle one IVF, and parents who are kind but don't understand.
I begin in the middle. Hopefully I am not too late.