Checkmate

I spent the weekend with E. at our flat in the Other City for a change of scene, and we talked of many things. Of ships and shoes and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.

But not, for the first time in many months, of babies. It was a blessed relief, to be honest, to turn our minds to something else for a change. The chaos in our life extends to other areas, such as our wonky living situation, and E.'s feelings of career stagnation, so there is never any shortage of material to work with. Periodically, as we did this weekend, we take some time off from the Infertility Express train to Hell, and think about other stuff.

Like, where do we want to live? Should we sell one or both of the flats and move to somewhere in the middle? If so, where? Should E. quit his job and start his own business? If so, what would that business be? If he could get a better job, would it be worth thinking again about making a big geographical move? You know, that kind of thing. The sort of discussion which at the best of times leaves you staring wide-eyed at the crack in the ceiling in the middle of the night. And that's before we add a hypothetical baby into the mix.

We talk about the "other stuff", and then we get back on the hamster wheel, spinning mindlessly towards nothingness.

One thing I continue to find hard about where we are at in the infertility process is that it renders us almost absolutely incapable of planning anything, decisively, for the long-term. There is still so much we don't know. We don't know if we'll be buying maternity clothes in the spring, undergoing treatment, talking to adoption agencies, or getting a puppy with the aim of learning to live childfree. If you put all of that on a spectrum of what could be, it's really insanely mind-blowing. I mean, any one of those outcomes is, in its own right, so chockfull of possibility, it makes my head hurt.

People say 'you have to get on with things and live your life'. Try not to let infertility get in the way of planning things that you would otherwise want to do. But the thing is, I am not talking about whether or not to book a holiday to Aruba here, I am talking about decisions, big decisions, which, if circumstances change significantly in one direction or another, could have enormous impact.

People say 'well, just be patient, everything will work itself out in time'. Yeah. That's what I said a year and a half ago. How much time should I factor in here? For everything to "work itself out"? To wait and see what will be. Two years? Three years? Say another two years to try fertility treatment, and if that fails, then a year to get into the adoption process and another year to actually get a baby from somewhere? Are we really saying that we put everything else in life on hold for at least four years while we figure this shit out? And what about the very real possibility that we'll opt to live without children, if it comes to that, in which case, knowing how much of a blow that will be, I'd really like to get on with making some arrangements to make that as pleasurable and comfortable as possible.

People say, ' well, sometimes things don't go to plan'. Yes, I get that. I'm not even talking about things not going to plan, I am talking about not being able to make a plan in the first place. I am talking about the feeling of sailing into uncharted waters, of going right off the edge of the map-where we may find land, or where there may be dragons.

I think the reason we aren't talking about baby things on top of, or in the contexts of, those other discussions is because we both feel like we need to make a conscious effort to work with what we have got. Even if what we have got remains a gigantic question mark. I know I can't wait around forever for things to fall into place. I also know some of the answers are coming, very slowly, in painstaking drips.

But it seems so desperately slow. E will do another SA this week, and I have the HSG scheduled for December. We then need to see the RE again to discuss options. It's the usual hurry up and wait, without any definitive plan of action anywhere in sight. So right now it feels like there is absolutely hee haw happening on the baby front, apart from the forced march of baby-making sex on cue.

We are both so tired of waiting. All these months going by, and our lives don't change- we are stuck, in suspended animation, waiting for something, anything, to happen. I don't want to wake up one day in a few years from now, and find that opportunities have passed us by. Nor do I want to wake up, and find we have gotten ahead of ourselves, and burned our boats, only to find that I now need passage off the Island.

I feel like whichever way I move, I am trapped by the spectre of infertility. One way or another, something will have to shift. Because I can't live my life in checkmate forever.