I think that is what happened. At least some of it. I fell out of love.
We talked a bit about our relationship while on vacation. He’s not happy with our sex life (not that I am particularly, but honestly, it’s not at the top of my priority list right now), and suggested an open relationship. But I don’t think that’s for me. So he said that in this case he might leave eventually – and was taken aback when I said that would be fine. (He also said, sometime during this conversation, that he did not believe counselling would help.)
When he comes into a room, most of the time, he doesn’t do much to greet me. He hugs and kisses SB, sure, but me? Well, I’m just there. So in a sense I’m puzzled at his surprise.
And still I’m having a hard time with this. I wonder if it is because, years ago, I made a promise? A promise to stay with him in good and bad times.
We have certainly have bad times. And good ones. But we were together in them. Now it feels like we are already separated, if not formally, then emotionally.
I’m usually not one to lament the fact that SB is growing up. I loved her baby months, but I also just love seeing the person she is growing into. Perhaps because I know how it is when they stay tiny forever, perhaps I would have been like this anyway.
But just now she climbed into my lap, asking to “snuggle boobie” (we stopped nursing a few months ago, but she still loves to snuggle up against my naked boobs) and then fell asleep. And it makes me a little sad that she’ll stop doing this eventually.
Despite good intentions, I have not become a better blogger. In part because life is full, with a little monkey and a great job and, finally, some nice weather.
In part it is because thing I feel like I’d need to write about is so complicated, and something I did not see coming. At all.
As I may or may not have mentioned, we bought a house earlier this year. The entire process was stressful for a number of reasons. H has long had issues with making decisions on purchases, going back and forth over all the possible pros and cons, both before and after making an “official” decision. No matter if it’s a pizza, a computer, or a house. And to some extent this is necessary, especially in this order of magnitude. But it’s also wearing. Especially once the contract had been signed and all wait periods had passed, it just really didn’t make sense to discuss why this may have been the wrong choice after all. I mainly tried to wait it out, hoping that, once we moved, he’d see the advantages and settle in. We’ve moved a few times already, and it always took him a while to adjust.
But he’s still complaining. Not just about the house, about all sorts of things, about how he thought he’d be more successful professionally at this age, etc. I’m tired of all the complaining. I’m not at the professional level where I was hoping to be either, but I love my job, I have a wonderful child, and live in a good and safe place. He seems unable to focus on the good in his life, and it’s been like this for years. Perhaps my patience for the endless complaints has worn thin.
The other issue I’m struggling with is that he doesn’t seem to make our family life a priority. He’ll sit on the couch with his laptop instead of playing with his daughter or help set the table. When I point this out, he’ll have some excuse like “I’m tired” – because I clearly had 12 hours of sleep and spent the day at a spa.
We don’t do much for fun together anymore. I asked a friend to watch SB and planned a dinner for our anniversary, and it took a long time to convince him that we should actually go out just the two of us. Then finally he changed plans and we only had a very rushed dinner before going to the movies. And while I really liked Wonder Woman, it would have been good to sit and talk.
I know marriage is hard (Bunny had some great posts on this over the years). But I have no idea what happened. Or what I’m supposed to do. How to explain him that I’m so unhappy with the situation that divorce is a realistic option. How to say any of this without him getting very upset and thus eliminating the chances of actually having a conversation.
Sometimes I feel the only thing we have in common anymore is SB. And, much as we love her, that may not be enough to keep the relationship alive.
SB said this yesterday. Out of nowhere.
We mention A&C every now and then, maybe every 1-2 months. So far, she has only said C’s name right after we have, and while she generally has an amazing memory, I hadn’t realized she had woven the twins into her family.
My transfer was cancelled. Last Friday, the doctor monitoring my cycle (at the clinic where our embryos are) suggested I stop all drugs and start over. Given that there usually is a 12h flight between me and my embryos, and I’m not just going to fly over again in 1-2 months, this wasn’t a great option. I talked them into one last-ditch effort, increasing vaginal Estrace to 2x/day and hoping for the best. On Tuesday at yet another ultrasound, the lining was 7.2mm, so we thought we’re good to go. Unfortunately the doctor decided against a transfer, because there was no trilaminar pattern (despite having said on Friday that, at 7mm, she’d transfer even witout stripes).
As you can imagine, I’m frustrated and sad. Sure, I understand that the embryos are very precious, and that we only have a limited number of them. But I am not sure how much evidence there is that the lack of stripes is really critical. And it is very unlikely that we’ll come here for 6 single-embyro-transfers, or attempts to do so. Thus, while they would have looked as transferring now as “wasteful”, realistically, in a few years we may decide (for various reasons) that our clock for having more babies is done, and any embryos we have left will be discarded. So… I’m not convinced that the net outcome will be an different, and now we didn’t even get a shot at pregnancy. And on some level, I wonder how much their concern about their SART statistics plays into this…
I do realize that this is, at least in the world of IVF, a luxurious problem. In the past we have been rather lucky, and most elements of the process went smoothly. My transfer success rate has been stellar. Nevertheless I can’t help and be sad at this loss of opportunity.
There were many things that didn’t work out particularly well in this cycle. The communication between the two clinics was essentially non-existent – the local clinic only ever wanted to talk to me, not my embryo-storing clinic. And, although I have some biomedical knowledge, that led to more delays and annoyances than I care to repeat. So I’ll need to look for a new local clinic, and have a chat with them about how this communication will go, before starting another attempt.
There are some other complicated things going on, unrelated to fertility but still stressful, and to some extent related to our family’s future. I haven’t really blogged about them, but I might in the coming days. Though first of all, I very much look forward to holding SB again tomorrow evening, after an entire week without her. We talked on Skype yesterday, and she was so happy to see me, it was wonderful. Balm on my heart and soul.
Clearly I haven’t become a better blogger. Sigh.
So at that first ultrasound, the lining was thin as expected, but there was a cyst on one side. And for the first time it became apparent how annoying it is to coordinate between clinics in vastly different time zones – it wasn’t until 36h later that we actually had a plan (continue Lupron, start patches and hope for the best). Then, at the lining check 2 weeks later, I was only at 6mm, and no striped pattern in sight (the cyst was gone though!). After another back-and-forth across timezones, it was decided that I should add estrace vaginally. Of course by then it was in the middle of the night, so I had to wait until the next day to actually ask my local clinic for a prescription and pick it up. Today we’re at 6.7mm… so that’s an improvement, but still not quite where it should be. All this worked way better with SB’s transfer – but then, I wouldn’t trade places for anything. I find it so much easier to handle this less-than-stellar performance, knowing that I have a baby to cuddle when I come home.
The main point of contention is that I am still nursing SB. Essentially, only at night, but who knows whether that has any detrimental effects. (I haven’t even told the clinics. They’ll just tell me to stop, and I see their point, but also, lots of women get pregnant while nursing toddlers.) But now H has enough, he wants to do everything we can to make this transfer work. I struggle with taking something from my one living baby that she clearly loves, but… I also understand him. Perhaps it is time. And as I’m leaving for the west coast on Monday, it literally is only a question of 2-3 more or fewer days of nursing in any case.
Wish us luck.