November has been a full month, and we're not even halfway through it.
After much discussion, Ben and I have decided to do another round of IUI. Our attitudes are totally different now - last time we were dreaming of names and diapers, and deciding how we would share happy news.
This time we're going through the motions - looking at it as just medicine, trying to stay detached, because we know the results may not be what we want.
This time I've let myself think what life will be like if round two doesn't work.
The doctors would do three rounds of IUI, but if this round doesn't work we probably will not pursue a third. We are going through round two as much for closure as for hope. The odds are not great (even with all the medicine it's only a 15-20% chance), and we've been trying to have a family for almost four years.
I know others "try" longer, but we can't keep going on like this; while we would never begrudge this choice for others, we won't pursue any "next steps" for fertility. It's not a decision we've made lightly, and while we've granted ourselves freedom to change our minds later on, we've been living in limbo, and for the sake of our hearts we need to be able to let go and move on.
I've accepted that we won't have a baby the "normal" way.
I've accepted that we may only have one child because of the difficulty getting pregnant.
But it might soon be time to accept that (at least for awhile), we won't be having kids.
That sounds so defeated, but I don't feel that way. There's something quietly flowing through me - something so foreign that I didn't recognize it at first.
I know if this doesn't work there will be hard days, bad days, and days full of emotions I'm sure I can't even yet imagine. I doubt it will hurt less. (In fact, it might hurt more).
But for now, I'm starting to prepare myself for that.
Acceptance. Nice to meet you.