Again

It's amazing how one phone call can pull me right back in.

Land of IF: Population, Me.

I have been doing really well the past couple weeks. No, I haven't been perfectly content, and I have been so conflicted about our next path that it's downright confusing at times. But I have been calm. I've enjoyed the feeling of being done with treatments - if only for a time - just the feeling of not having to schedule appointments, spend a quarter hour mixing meds and jabbing myself nightly. It has felt nice. Easy. I have distinctly *not* felt infertile, at least for the past couple weeks. I thought about our next steps with a sort of detachment, thinking the whole time that whatever works out will be for the best ... no, that we'll make the best of it. I will even say that I have spent more time being happy with feeling done, and less time being sad about what we're missing.

Then today. Today I did something that's been on my "to-do" list since this day. One month ago today I learned that my IVF wasn't going to happen, because my ovaries were sleeping on the job. I knew when my cycle was converted that I'd have to sit down with my doc and talk about our options. I knew it would eventually be time to figure out what happens next.

So I called today to schedule time with the doc for what we infertiles sometimes call the "WTF appointment." As in WTF went wrong? WTF do I do now? As I said, I went into this phone call with a sort of centered calm. It is what it is, whatever will be, will be, and all that fun stuff. Within minutes of the call I was crying. (Frankly I'm lucky I held out until I hung up the phone.) I was internally cursing my body, angry and feeling broken. Guilt. Tired. Again, again, again.

The appointment is Friday.

I'm scared.