control

You would think I’ve come to terms with the fact that I cannot control much of anything. But no, it’s still a huge struggle of mine. I’m type A and like to be prepared - hence my last post on managing my expectations regarding my hair loss.

Losing my brother was a major moment for me where I realized no matter what I did, I didn’t have control over the situation. Obviously. It’s common sense. But it wasn’t until I felt absolute grief and pain to understand that life is going to happen whichever way it wants and you have to accept it. There are no tallies for good vs. bad moments to ensure its balanced.

Our latest IVF round was a failure. Seven eggs were retrieved. Four were mature enough to be fertilized. Three made it overnight and zero survived the week. 

This was a tick on the bad tally. 

But not just a tick, a real slap in the face. 

I got the news on Sunday morning - technically day four after chemo - when my body had been holding up very well if I do say so myself. Besides fatigue, dry mouth and an overall foggy head, I actually felt quite well. 

The fertility doctor called and left a voicemail to call back for results, which is never good news as this office always shared detailed messages with updates. However, they never before had to share that the thousands of dollars we funneled into a science experiment with my body didn’t work this time around. 

Up until that morning, I spent the last three days praying for my body to behave and not give into the chemo. I woke up in the middle of the night and each morning cautiously assessing my body and it’s state. Am I nauseous? Do I have a headache? Am I in pain? No, no and no. Then a rush of relief would go by and I would slowly get up hoping the calm would last.  

By Sunday afternoon, I was exhausted from my own constant bodily evaluations and underlying pressure to feel OK. And from the metaphorical slap across my face that came that morning when the doctor filled me in with the news that she was disappointed to share. Disappointed is an understatement.

I hit the point of disappointment that I didn’t want to share this update at all because it feels so fucking redundant. I’m so tired of typing that everything will work out and everything will happen as it should. I just wanted one more embryo for security, peace of mind and an insurance policy on my own motherhood. I’m a broken record.

So after the call, after a cry and after a nap, the flu like aches and pains finally set in and every muscle was tender to the touch. My body was beat up - physically and emotionally.

In reality, severe body pain is an expected side effect to the chemo, especially since it was the first day with no steroid intake. But for me, it was the feeling I needed to remind myself I can’t control my body. And it felt good to hurt.

I’m a self-described emotional cutter but sometimes I can’t even fully comprehend my own sadness and need a physical reminder to understand what’s happening. It felt necessary to feel a pain for the loss. It’s the loss of an insurance plan; the loss of security; the loss of peace of mind; the final loss of control.

Control is overrated anyway.

So yeah, I feel pretty freaking useless as a soon to be bald woman with a rapidly depleting egg count and temporary rock hard breasts. But I am ultimately living in a short-term version of myself just until everything is double checked and cleaned up so the next version can move in for good, hopefully with more luscious hair and a perfect chest. Eggs, embryos and babies? (Insert girl with hand up in the air emoji). 

So for now, I may not have control but I have the power of my decisions to live in the hope that life will work itself out and there are some good ticks coming on my tally. 

PS – My pain went away by Monday afternoon and I was a-ok to go back to work on Tuesday! Wohoo. Here’s to manageable pain ahead!