I am a few hours away from leaving for vacation, lots of things left to do, and no motivation to do them, and I'm just a grumpy sad mess. So here is why:
On my way home from overdoing it at the gym and upsetting my cranky left sacroiliac joint, I got a call from the infertility pharmacy. Everything is fine with my order except that when I started with this pharmacy, and Gon.al F there was a program that gave you your 3rd cycle's GF for free. So here I am, all ready for my free GF, and the program ended June 30th. Yeah. I had no idea it ended at all. I thought it was just some sort of program, that once you were enrolled you got your goods. So I came home called all the other big pharmacy's and their prices for Follis.tim and GF are way higher than Free.dom's. I wasn't actually angry with Freedom--they are always so unfailingly nice, and the person who had to tell me about this was also pretty upset that no one had told me about the end date, so I had no where to go with my anger. I guess I could fight with Sor.ono, but I'm not going to be David to their Goliath. The problem is solved, the die is cast, this is my lot, I need to suck it up blah blah blah. BUT, I can't. I just can't.
When I was in college I worked in the campus post office for this lovely woman from West Virginia who told the most amazing stories about growing up in the Appalachians. She really took me under her wing the summer between my junior and senior years of college. When I ran out of money, she brought me lunch and leftovers so that I wouldn't starve--because she actually knew what that was like. I felt so humbled, and I was a lot less hyperbolic about situation after that. Anyhow, all of this is to say that one of her pithy observations about me was "'You are like a the hem of a skirt, it's fine until something makes the thread start to unraveled, and then it just keeps going." That is how I'm feeling. I feel unraveled. I was really counting on this free medication to cushion the blow of this next IVF. I know it's an odd cushion--a pin cushion to be exact.
It is, and isn't, the money. We have the money to pay for the meds, and we have the money to pay for more meds, but it is the fact that once the money is gone, there won't be a nice big chunk like this again, and that I am so torn up about the miscarriage, the unknown of the next cycle and just the whole unknown of all of this stuff.
Infertility strips away your cushion. It takes away that sense that there is a margin between you and loss; you and heartbreak; you and chaos. I seem to be able to get into a good bubble sometimes, and the rawness isn't so apparent, but something like this pops the bubble,and I am back to feeling raw and exposed.
Our two eldest kitties (of 3) have hypertropic cardiomyopathy. They are still pretty healthy, but their loss is also imminent (like a year or two). Last night, when I was grumping on the couch, my cuddly male kitty came and laid on my chest with his cheek pressed to mine. We stayed like that for at least 20 minutes--I really needed that. And it also touched off a fresh round of grief for these wonderful kitties that have been with us for nearly all of our relationship--our sweet babies.
So I am going to try to get myself together. I need to do a bit of laundry, strip and remake the bed, vacuum the carpet, oh yeah, and pack a bag!
The OPK line is getting darker, so at least we can give it one more try for free while we're on vacation.