I can’t seem to get myself off of the couch.  See, I could stay on the couch all day today and it wouldn’t make much of a difference.  The crazy thing about my career is that I’ll be harried and super busy for months, and then there will be weeks of a lull.  I was just out of town for about two months, away from home and J, living in a crappy apartment, going non-stop all day and then collapsing at the end.  It was stressful and all-absorbing.  Now I’m back home and though I have a job, there are no pressing deadlines for awhile.  For now, I have to wait for others to finish their part before I can even get started on mine.  So, I’m just here, on the couch.  It’s nice, really, to have the leisure.  Believe me, I’m NOT complaining.  It’s noon and I’m still in my bathrobe, after all.  I know how lucky I am in that respect.  It’d be a lot nicer, though, if I could just embrace it and let go of the guilt and mild anxiety at not being busier.  I can’t get rid of the idea that I’m some absurd stay-at-home mom without the kid, though.

I organized all my dresser drawers, our bathroom cabinet, and cleaned out my studio closet that will (one day) become the baby closet.  My next project is the kitchen.  Then I can make preparations to the dining room so that it’s ready to become my studio.  Then my studio can become the nursery…one day.  Will you think I’m absolutely crazy if I tell you that I have a ground plan sketched for the nursery set-up?  That I have the color picked for the walls?  That I have a powerpoint collage of nursery inspiration?  That there’s a part of me (I’m keeping it in check, don’t worry.  I’m not THAT crazy) that just wants to decorate that damn nursery already?  I have a list of other things I could do today, but it’s really hard for me to motivate.  I should go for a walk, but it’s really cold and gray outside.  I could start a painting, but it’s hard to get rid of the feeling of that just being busywork – that it doesn’t matter whether I create that painting or not.  I guess it’s that feeling that keeps me from actually being an artist, but that’s another post entirely…

I guess the big problem is that I so desperately, all-consumingly just want to be a mom now (I know I’m not alone here).  I don’t want to do anything else.  I spend my time researching Montessori tools for infants and toddlers, putting children’s books on my Amazon wish list, collecting kid art projects.  I’m now an expert on strollers.  I know it’s ridiculous, but that’s just where I want to be.  That’s where I’ve wanted to be for FOUR YEARS now.  At the beginning, right when we got married (2008), I was afraid of what motherhood would do to my identity and my career.  I worried about having to turn down jobs, about staying at home, about becoming a primary care-giver.  J and I actually had arguments about it, because I was filled with such fear and ambivalence.  That was before the years of struggling to get pregnant.  I guess 4 years,  3 clomid cycles,  2 IUIs, 4 IVFs, and 0 BFPs really can change your priorities.  Now I can’t imagine anything more exciting than a day at home with my child.  God knows, there will be many days that aren’t as idyllic as my imaginings, but let me pretend for now, ok?  I know I’m being silly.  Even if this DE cycle works I’m not going to be an instant mother.  I still have to have other things to fill my life.  It doesn’t help that I’m deeply ambivalent about my current career.  I’m burnt out and I’m not sure I can stay doing this when we have a kid, so my cathexis has shifted elsewhere.  It’s all in one basket – the baby basket.

If I’m honest with myself, I’ll say that our DE cycle is happening in good time.  It didn’t take long for us to find our donor (of course we had to look all across the country, but we found someone I’m super happy about), she’s finished all her screening, and now we’re in the process of working on the agreement with our attorney.  That all happened in a matter of 3 months.  J and I have a couple of months at home together, just being a married couple, not dealing with injections, hormonal moods, disappointment, or my work travel.  I know that’s good for us.  We’ll work on getting into a groove together again, and on getting our sex life back.  I should just enjoy this time for what it is – take care of myself and my love and be patient.  Unfortunately, patience isn’t my strong suit, though, and I’d say it’s been given quite a test.

My donor should be getting her period next week.  It is the oddest thing to know something so intimate about a complete stranger, but there you are.  She’ll then start on birth control pills.  Our IVF lab closes from mid-December to New Years for their annual upkeep, so they’ll need to time things so that we have retrieval after the New Year.  Transfer should be around January 7th, 2012.  All fingers and toes crossed that I’ll be able to announce our pregnancy 4 years from our wedding (April 19, 2008).  All fingers and toes and hairs crossed that I’ll be safely pregnant by the time I turn 39, on February 4th.  Please.

And then there’s the thought that pokes it’s way in – I’d say 20 times a day.  It might not work.  We could spend all this money and time and effort and I could STILL not get pregnant.  I can only pray with all my being that if that happens, we’ll have some frosties to try again with.  (Why on earth does my computer auto correct “frosties” as “fro sties”?  What are “fro sties”?).  I guess I know we’ll be able to cope with the pain and disappointment if this cycle doesn’t work.  That’s the ONE real gift of infertility, as I see it.  You learn how very much you can take – and it’s WAY more than you ever thought manageable.  But I really, really, really hope I won’t have to find out that I’m quite that strong.