A Message From Elmo
As Phil and I sat with our grief and sadness and worked through our decision not to try again, we realized that we had been somewhat naive to think that we could make the decision ahead of time. There is simply no way to make a decision of this magnitude beforehand. In thinking about it, I realized that I had made at least two errors in my calculation.
1) In the back of my mind, I was certain it was going to work, so making the "we get what we get and we don't pitch a fit" agreement was easy because I assumed I would get what I wanted;
2) To the extent that I knew that it might not work, making the decision ahead of time was going to keep me from feeling grief (Ha!). I wouldn't have to sift through the grief to figure out where I was--I had already done it ahead of time.
We talked back and forth and finally reached a point where we were both in agreement that we were willing to reconsider our decision. We might still stick with it, but we could change our minds. In this vein, we went to doctor's appointments with both the fertility doctor and my obgyn to get all of the facts on moving forward and stopping. Then, we sat down to digest the information. This was exceedingly hard for me. At one point, I realized I didn't really care which decision we made, we just needed to make one so I could move forward. Of course, this is a bad way to make a decision, but I am someone who loves certainty and planning and making a decision was the only way to get that--or at least the illusion of that. See, our decision comes down to "no" and "maybe." There is no "yes" option. I hate that, but my hate doesn't change the fact that those are my only options. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready to give up. Yes, I hate the roller coaster. Yes, I hate the uncertainty. But, I truly believe I am meant to have another child and the only way to achieve that is to try again.
As I was coming to terms with whether I was willing to change my mind, Phil and I became aware of some hints we were receiving. They weren't necessarily the universe telling us what to do, but the fact that they made us wonder meant that we had more thinking to do. The two biggest of these gentle nudges came in the form of a television show and some laundry.
The evening after we met with the fertility doctor to talk about what another round would entail versus what was necessary to donate the remaining embryos, we were watching Elmo with Lil' Bit. Sesame Street has started a new line of Elmo shows called "Elmo the Musical." This particular episode--a new one--was called Circus the Musical. In it, Elmo is "a monster with a dream." He keeps trying to find a way to join the circus, but is thwarted by his inability to fill in for any of the missing acts. He ends up having a discussion with a chicken, who tell him he needs to do what she does, "Just keep cluckin'." Essentially, try and try until you achieve your dream. Phil looks over at me and says, "Did Elmo just tell us to try again?!" We laughed it off, but it did make both of us think.
Then, today, Oliver's original due date, we were scheduled to meet with my obgyn. Phil picked me up and, on the way to her office, he told me a story. He had recently gotten in the habit of washing his clothes and leaving various pins attached to this shirts. One particular pin was a comma--a symbol in the United Church of Christ of the quote by Gracie Allen which it has adopted as it's own motto: Never place a period where God has placed a comma. Phil began to wonder if, by stopping, we were placing a period where God had placed a comma. I made a really bad joke about us placing a period after God had placed a "period," but it made us think more about it.
After the doctor visit, we went out to lunch to process. We both reached the same place, but we kept tiptoeing around it in case the other one wasn't there. We didn't want to impinge on the decision-making process of the other. Ultimately, we both agreed that we felt led to try again. We made no decisions about what would happen after another attempt. Those decisions would have to wait until then. We could only decide what we were going to do right now, and we both felt that we needed to try.
Now, you can probabaly guess that, once we had made a decision, I was ready to charge down the path. But, I didn't. I am reining myself in on the planning. Why? Because I ignored this nagging feeling I had last time that the timing was off. I had planned it and this was perfect timing, my gut be damned. So, this time, I want to go with the flow. I want us to take our time and figure out how we'll finance another round. I want us to wait and call when we're ready and see when the next available cycle is. Now, once I have a month, I will calculate everything within an inch of its life as I always do. But, until that point, I want to allow for more flexibility in recognition of the fact that God's time isn't necessarily my time.
So, to sum up this really long post in a few sentences--we're trying again, but we don't know when. We are extremely grateful for all the love, support, and prayers we have received since all this began and hope you'll be so kind as to share it with us again as we make our way back to the amusement park for another ride on the roller coaster.
1) In the back of my mind, I was certain it was going to work, so making the "we get what we get and we don't pitch a fit" agreement was easy because I assumed I would get what I wanted;
2) To the extent that I knew that it might not work, making the decision ahead of time was going to keep me from feeling grief (Ha!). I wouldn't have to sift through the grief to figure out where I was--I had already done it ahead of time.
We talked back and forth and finally reached a point where we were both in agreement that we were willing to reconsider our decision. We might still stick with it, but we could change our minds. In this vein, we went to doctor's appointments with both the fertility doctor and my obgyn to get all of the facts on moving forward and stopping. Then, we sat down to digest the information. This was exceedingly hard for me. At one point, I realized I didn't really care which decision we made, we just needed to make one so I could move forward. Of course, this is a bad way to make a decision, but I am someone who loves certainty and planning and making a decision was the only way to get that--or at least the illusion of that. See, our decision comes down to "no" and "maybe." There is no "yes" option. I hate that, but my hate doesn't change the fact that those are my only options. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready to give up. Yes, I hate the roller coaster. Yes, I hate the uncertainty. But, I truly believe I am meant to have another child and the only way to achieve that is to try again.
As I was coming to terms with whether I was willing to change my mind, Phil and I became aware of some hints we were receiving. They weren't necessarily the universe telling us what to do, but the fact that they made us wonder meant that we had more thinking to do. The two biggest of these gentle nudges came in the form of a television show and some laundry.
The evening after we met with the fertility doctor to talk about what another round would entail versus what was necessary to donate the remaining embryos, we were watching Elmo with Lil' Bit. Sesame Street has started a new line of Elmo shows called "Elmo the Musical." This particular episode--a new one--was called Circus the Musical. In it, Elmo is "a monster with a dream." He keeps trying to find a way to join the circus, but is thwarted by his inability to fill in for any of the missing acts. He ends up having a discussion with a chicken, who tell him he needs to do what she does, "Just keep cluckin'." Essentially, try and try until you achieve your dream. Phil looks over at me and says, "Did Elmo just tell us to try again?!" We laughed it off, but it did make both of us think.
Then, today, Oliver's original due date, we were scheduled to meet with my obgyn. Phil picked me up and, on the way to her office, he told me a story. He had recently gotten in the habit of washing his clothes and leaving various pins attached to this shirts. One particular pin was a comma--a symbol in the United Church of Christ of the quote by Gracie Allen which it has adopted as it's own motto: Never place a period where God has placed a comma. Phil began to wonder if, by stopping, we were placing a period where God had placed a comma. I made a really bad joke about us placing a period after God had placed a "period," but it made us think more about it.
After the doctor visit, we went out to lunch to process. We both reached the same place, but we kept tiptoeing around it in case the other one wasn't there. We didn't want to impinge on the decision-making process of the other. Ultimately, we both agreed that we felt led to try again. We made no decisions about what would happen after another attempt. Those decisions would have to wait until then. We could only decide what we were going to do right now, and we both felt that we needed to try.
Now, you can probabaly guess that, once we had made a decision, I was ready to charge down the path. But, I didn't. I am reining myself in on the planning. Why? Because I ignored this nagging feeling I had last time that the timing was off. I had planned it and this was perfect timing, my gut be damned. So, this time, I want to go with the flow. I want us to take our time and figure out how we'll finance another round. I want us to wait and call when we're ready and see when the next available cycle is. Now, once I have a month, I will calculate everything within an inch of its life as I always do. But, until that point, I want to allow for more flexibility in recognition of the fact that God's time isn't necessarily my time.
So, to sum up this really long post in a few sentences--we're trying again, but we don't know when. We are extremely grateful for all the love, support, and prayers we have received since all this began and hope you'll be so kind as to share it with us again as we make our way back to the amusement park for another ride on the roller coaster.