Still Waiting

It's strange to me, but over the last few months, I've been so wrapped up in all that was Dad's illness and death, and all that was the struggles of an unemployed turned soon-to-be-first-time-college-student spouse, that I kind of forgot about the struggles of infertility.

Sure, I was still going in for my every 4 weeks Lupron injection, and taking my estrogen (when I remembered). And I'd have my rough moments here and there. But honestly, infertility was pretty far off the radar. Even moments like this one (as told from the perspective of my very good friend) brought joy and happiness, rather than the all too familiar emptiness.

But now - now that life is returning to calm, and the holidays are gearing up, I'm left here, still waiting, still hoping against hope to beat my own odds and manage to conceive naturally. And yet, I still haven't had my first post-Lupron period (43 days after my last shot, but who's counting?). I figure I'm pretty well now officially out of the running for one of those fairy tale Christmas morning announcements. Oh well, it's only the 5th consecutive one of those I've been out of the running for... I should be used to it by now, shouldn't I?

But, of course, I'm not. I'm pissed off at the universe, at God, at my broken body. Why is this our story? Why are we being punished in this way? What is wrong with us that nature, or the universe, or God, insists on working against us - on throwing us out of the gene pool?

It's infuriating, on so many levels. I've fought long and fucking hard for my marriage, my life, my family, to be in a place that is genuinely ready for children. I've accepted that there will never be as much financial security as we'd like, and that my house will never be Martha Stewart approved. We're working hard to better our financial big picture, have come together to finish projects that make our house feel more like our home. For fuck's sake, I'm READY!

And yet, here I am, still waiting.