My therapist tends to say things that I vehemently disagree with… until the next day. Recently she argued that I was stuck between two choices, trying to have the best of both, but ending up with only the worst.
I couldn’t see what she meant at first. I thought I had done a very good job of choosing to give up and move on, to try and accept that this isn’t going to happen for us. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that we should keep trying, so we were going to do that (too). Wouldn’t choosing the other side of things just be the same? If I chose to pursue this last cycle wholeheartedly, I wouldn’t be able to shake the feeling that it was doomed at the start.
But see – I haven’t actually chosen to give up if I still plan on trying next cycle. I’m just pretending I have. So instead of finding peace, I’m still caught in grief. Yet I also don’t get to feel the stubborn pride of trying anyway. Just disappointed.
So if I’m going to get out of this quagmire, I have to either actually give up – or go all out. Certainly no one would fault me for throwing in the towel. I mean, what are even the chances after all our failed and missed cycles? What’s the point of going through this one more time?
But there’s one thing that I have learned about myself over the last few years, and that’s how bloody stubborn I am. This might not work. This might – again – be a waste of time. I might just wreck my mental health even further. But I won’t remember all that five, twelve months from now. I will only remember if I tried.
When we hiked across England a few years ago, my feet started killing me about three days into our eight day hike. By day four, literally each step was horrible, shooting pain. Twelve, fifteen miles of pain. We seriously discussed getting a taxi and cutting our hike short. We could just spend a few days at the coast drinking tea and eating scones. No one would fault us.
But I knew I would regret it. I knew I would only look back and remember the pain if we gave in. So I soldiered on through another day of awful pain and beautiful vistas, then we switched boots and the pain became manageable, then I put on my vibrams and never looked back.
Now I remember there was pain, but mostly I remember that we did it. We hiked 100+ miles in eight days and it was beautiful and gorgeous and amazing.
Unfortunately, there won’t be beautiful vistas to think back on, but at least I’ll know that I tried.
So I choose to embrace this last cycle. In terms of possible obstacles and hindrances, it will be a lot like last one – that is, a two week ovulation window before we have to be at the French Embassy, at which point it will be too late in the cycle anyway.
It can happen. It is possible. And I’m going to do everything in my power to increase that possibility.
…on that note any tips/supplements that are especially helpful for PCOS would be welcomed. I’ve already got green tea, fish oil, vitamin D, and a prenatal, plus meditation, exercise, tightening my diet, metformin, and cutting back on caffeine. Anything I should add?