Putting things off

One of the things I don’t like about myself is that I tend to procrastinate.  A lot.  I genuinely want to get stuff done, and I want to be on top of everything… but it just doesn’t happen.  Getting myself to go from *wanting* to do something to actually *doing* it is like trying to jump over the Grand Canyon sometimes.  I’m going to blame depression and ADHD, but I’m sure some of it is just me being lazy.

So we’re on hold for getting a baby until mid-January, but that’s only 2-3 weeks away.  There are a ton of things that I really should try to get done before then, because I know they’ll be almost impossible to do after we get a baby.  Paperwork is the biggest thing – I’m really behind on things at work, and I have to get caught up in the next couple weeks.  I know how to do what I need to do, it’s not anything hard, but actually doing it… it’s much easier to put it off then to force myself to do it.  I get to the point where I actually have anxiety about sitting down to work on it – since I have “failed “to be productive SO many times, now  every time I try to get started on things I worry that I’ll just “fail” again.  And that just feeds into the avoidance and procrastination.

I made a “Before baby” list tonight of all the things I would like to get done in the next couple weeks.  Now I just have to get myself to do them.

Anyone want to give me a good kick in the pants to get me moving?

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Ready… Set… Wait.

Something came up last week, and now we’re on hold for foster care again.  We should be able to get back on “the list” sometime in the middle of January, so it’s not too bad, but still…  It’s always something, isn’t it?  This whole journey has been like this, I almost expect it now.

March, 2006: Finally start trying; I had been waiting and waiting for my husband to agree to it.

January, 2007: Visit Ob/Gyn and get a referral for the fertility clinic (it hadn’t been 12 whole months of TTC, but it was 12 cycles).  Wait until March, 2007 before we can actually get into the orientation to start with the RE.

March and April, 2007: Go through basic testing and wait for that first appointment to get the results back.

July – October, 2007:  Wait to see if clomid will help increase my husband’s sperm count.  Then wait for an appointment with the urologist in November.

November, 2007 – March, 2008: Wait to save up money for IVF.  I asked to get FSH tested in March…

March – May, 2008: Get back FSH results; wait to repeat the test in April; wait to do the clomid challenge test in May; wait to talk with RE about “options”.  (This was probably the worst waiting period out of our journey so far.)

June – December, 2008:  Wait to save up money for IVF.  With extra pressure to do it soon.

February – July, 2009: Wait to buy a house and move (I didn’t want to get licensed, move, and have to go through the whole home inspection all over again.)

August – November, 2009: Submit foster care application; wait to get licensed.

And now we wait again.  It feels like every step forward we take is followed by a waiting period, but I guess that’s true for so much of infertility.  Kind of Really sucks.  And I know that once we’re back on “the list” in January, we’re still going to have to wait to get “the call”.  But at least I’ll feel like I’m moving forward again.  Instead of stuck.

What’s the worst waiting period you’ve had to go through?

Hard week…

I’m glad it’s finally over.  I’m exhausted and a little depressed, but neither of those is anything new.

I’m not sure how I feel about Christmas this year either – it’s our fourth Christmas since we started trying to get pregnant.  And still no baby.  Although I know we’re close.  I can’t believe Christmas is only a week away!  I’m far from ready.

I think I might try to talk my husband into taking me out bowling tonight.  Throwing something and knocking things over might be good for me…

One year anniversary

Tomorrow marks one year since our decision – The Decision – to give up trying to get pregnant.  In some ways, I can’t believe it’s been a whole year already; in other ways, December 3, 2008, seems like a lifetime ago.  There are those days in life, those moments, when everything changes.  One moment things are one way, and the next moment everything is different, and you know things will never go back to the way they were.  You know *you* will never go back to the way *you* were.  The Decision was one of those moments.  One of those life- altering events.  Things will forever be “before The Decision” or “after The Decision”; that line is there.  It will likely fade over the years, but it will always be there.  This year it feels especially deep and jagged.

I’ve gone through really hard times in my life before – dealing with severe depression when I was in college.  There were plenty of times when I felt like my life was over, like things were just too much to handle, like I was just going to break into a million pieces.  But I don’t think any of those times were like The Decision.  They were drawn out over periods of time, and they were part of the ebb and flow of how my life was during that time.  Kind of like how infertility was for me before The Decision.

After The Decision, after that one moment, I felt like my world was ending.  It was such a huge loss.  I’ve waited to be pregnant since being in high school.  Part of me wondered how I could voluntarily make a decision to let go of something that was so important to me.  Part of me wondered how I was going to keep living.  There were times when I felt like I couldn’t even breath.  And I felt such an overwhelming, almost crushing grief.

So, what did I do with all of that grief and pain?  I somehow managed to keep going, and even maintained some semblance of a normal life.  How can something so intensely painful, so earth-shattering for one person, be so invisible to the rest of the world?  It doesn’t make sense.  Yet that’s how it works, especially with invisible wounds, like infertility.

And now, a year later, the pain has lessened, but it’s still there, and it still feels just as invisible to the world around me.  The grief is less intense, but it remains part of who I am.  The moment doesn’t really become any less momentous with the passage of time.

One year since The Decision.