I could make an appointment with my local therapist to deal with all my frustrations of this latest chapter in the trying-to-get-a-baby-to-form/stay-in-my-uterus chronicles, or I could just make a film for the upcoming IIFF and deal with those emotions that way. The IIFF is not only free (whereas my therapist charges me a $20 copay and makes me drive a half hour), but you have the chance to win fabulous prizes this time. It may be possible to work through my fears about loss and missed chances AND win a bottle of Love Juice.*
I spent yesterday afternoon working on the music to the sequel of Mother Earth's Flower Shop. It is called "The Gardener Knows" and it explains loss in simple to understand terms that are appropriate for both a child and your idiot Aunt Jane who tells you to just try again because it wasn't a real baby.
It is really hard to sing it. I'm not just talking about the fact that it is completely out of my range and you're going to hear a bit of the old warble when you listen. It's because I made it general enough to refer to both a failed cycle and pregnancy loss. To all the hope you plant in the ground that never springs up to life.
Frank at PostSecret has a message up this week about why he took a brief break from the Secrets Project. A person asked him if his absence was the beginning of the end and he responded, "It's not the beginning of the end of PostSecret. But maybe it is the end of the beginning."
I am not taking a break from blogging (you can't get rid of me that easily!), but there is a sense emotionally that I've come to the end of the beginning with this round of trying to conceive. Josh said that I've sounded down in many of my recent posts and I haven't even posted the ones that I felt were too morose, though I am considering working backwards and posting one of them later this week to (1) take it out of my drafts folder and (2) cut myself loose of it. I have been down. I've been really frustrated. I've felt very much strangled by time and money and people not moving fast enough. I yelled at a poor nurse at my doctor's office today because she was still focusing on the timing of this progesterone test and I exploded with, "isn't it indicative of a larger problem than just progesterone if I'm not ovulating regularly? I. Don't. Have. Time. For. This."
It literally comes down to the fact that I can't sense what will happen next. When I was finishing college, I knew that grad school came next. And if it wasn't grad school, I was going to take the year to live on a kibbutz in Israel. I knew what the future looked like and while my first choice was definitely my first choice, my second choice made me happy too.
Since my first choice to conceive at home hasn't been coming true, it is time to move onto my second choice. And this is where it gets murkier--is it better to spend the money on IVF or adoption? How will we pay for this? How will it affect the family?
I wish that my life was like a little advent calendar working my way towards holding that child. And I could just peek behind all the doors and see a little glimpse of the future. And know whether I'm on the right path (this hypothetical advent calendar would be more like a choose-your-own-adventure path to the goal with the ability to flip a few pages ahead and know if the choice you're making is going to bring you to the prize or towards some horrible end forcing you to start over at the beginning yet again).
I wish I knew if I was making the right choices. Where is my Disney-issued fairy godmother when I need her?
*It's not too late to enter and make a film. We just started this new cartoon last night. You could make a film that is a montage of pictures set to music in one evening. Come on...join. Don't you want a little Love?