Spots Don't Count

To say that I've been hanging on by an emotional thread would be an understatement. But I've put my game face on, and I've handled every obstacle we've faced with patience and grace. I've held back tears and break downs and I've bit my lip so hard that I could taste the blood. And I smiled and said thank you to the people who were delivering me the next batch of news. On the outside you'd have no idea what was happening in my life or in my head.

But this morning I couldn't take another minute. And I cried uncontrollably, in a parking lot, for an hour.

I cried because I nailed the second interview for a job, that I want so badly, but I can't take because I am infertile.

I cried because my insurance counts EVERYTHING done in a treatment cycle against my $10K lifetime limit and now we have to start with IVF or we'll run out of money.

I cried because my period came on Sunday, maybe Monday. Depends on whether you count spotting. My RE says not to count spotting so I didn't. Then I went in for CD3/baseline bloodwork and ultrasound today and guess what? Spotting counts. I'm literally waiting for the phone to ring to find out whether I am really day 4 or day 3, because if I am day 4 it's too late for me to start taking BCP's for IVF #1 and I'm out of the game for another 30 days.

I cried because I'm terrified of failure, of going through this for months or years to come, of making a decision that could kill one of our babies before it's had a chance to live, of bringing a baby into this world in the NICU.

I cried because I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.

And then I stopped. I washed my face at a gas station. I got back into the car and drove to work. I put my game face back on and have pretended all day that the world is wonderful. And inside my heart is breaking.