I wonder about everything. All the time. I wonder if this is at all worth it. I wonder if I will have to deal with some kind of repercussions for taking all of these hormones. I wonder if I can keep myself from getting too hopeful this time. I wonder if it matters that I forgot to take the dexamethasone yesterday.
I wonder if it's too soon, if my body isn't ready. I wonder if I've really recovered at all from the loss, if I'll secretly be happier if it doesn't work. The one thing I don't have to wonder about is whether I'm only doing this now because my husband will be working out of town soon and I have a deadline with my clinic.
I wonder if I'll know when I'm ready to be done with this. I'm stuck in this weird place between being unable to look at babies because I ache for the ones I didn't have, but also not actually being all that crazy about babies, lately. I mean, I loved my own baby, and I know I would love another one. But babies in general, eh. Maybe it's just the effect of long-term ganerelix, the forced-menopausal chemical stop sign for reproduction. I sometimes look at stained sticky mothers tethered to strollers matted with wet crumbs and I just wonder why I'm doing this at all.
Secondary infertility is a weird set of contradictions. I don't have that original driving need to have a baby, to be a mother. I'm in it for other reasons now, and maybe those reasons aren't as compelling. I would so love for my daughter to have a sibling, someone to connect her to family in her own generation and the next. I would love to have the experience of raising a kid the second time around, when I kind of know what I'm doing and am not just figuring it out as I go the whole time. I would love to have another child with my husband, because he's turned out to be such a great dad. But I wonder if I wouldn't be better off just enjoying what life has given me.
I wonder if any of this will seem to make more sense tomorrow, after the stims start working their chemical magic?