this year, condensed

I'm still really, really confused.

This is for anyone else who is confused too.

I was all set to do IVF. I started my treatment cycle almost two weeks ago, after months of careful planning and thought. Theatre was booked for an egg retrieval sometime around May 9, and the embryo transfer was to be two days after that.

I was set to be at the receiving end of some really good drugs too, dammit. :madface:

The plan was to do this on my own, and the plan kept my emotions under control. I was handling the process really well, both the mental strain associated with it and the physical stresses caused by it.

A bit of legalesse: When I decided to do this, I was only what's known as 'socially infertile' in that I had no partner who wanted to have children with me. Legislation doesn't allow treatment of someone who either isn't getting enough sex, or is getting enough but with the wrong (picture me making bunny ears with my fingers when I say 'wrong', okay?) person. Fertile lesbians miss out too-unless the one wanting to get pregnant is medically infertile. Have I over explained enough? In a nutshell, treatment isn't available to anyone who simply wants medical intervention to get knocked up. You have to need it.

There's a loophole in legislation though, one where being medically infertile trumps being socially infertile, and once you're diagnosed appropriately, the social aspect of your infertility isn't even addressed. It stands to reason then, that I needed to be diagnosed medically infertile to be able to access treatment with donor sperm, and fortunately, I was.

Then I was sent home to wait for my period to arrive so we could start counting the days for treatment to begin. My period never arrived and the waiting was awful, so the unit arranged blood tests to determine where my cycle was at, and following those results, treatment commenced on the appropriate day, April 15.

But what we didn't know was that on that day, I was already two weeks pregnant.

Colour me You've Got To Be Fucking Kidding?!

So I need to let go of the plans I'd hung onto so desperately when things seemed like they'd never happen. These plans kept me focussed when the light at the end of the tunnel was too far away. They kept me sane, and now I have to throw them all away.

I wanted to do this alone, and now I need to get used to the idea of sharing and compromise. I need to stop feeling like the universe is playng a huge joke on me, him and our child, and accept this is a wonderful gift. I also need to accept that while this isn't what I planned, this child wants me - wants us - so very, very much, and that this IS the child I want so very, very much too.

*pats stomach* Hey you in there. I do you know.