changing the conversation.

I started this blog because I needed a place to write about what Mr. Hope and I were going through, infertility-wise. I decided to do it anonymously so that I could keep my business just that: my business. This allows me to be more open/honest in how I'm writing about things. I always figured I'd share the link with my family and close friends so I could keep them up informed about where we are in the process (even though I haven't sent it out yet - I wanted to get a bunch of posts down first). 

But I'm realizing the more I write, the less anonymous certain parts will be. I think I'm going to have to be okay with that. Starting now.

Last night, my BFF came over and we went out to dinner with Mr. Hope. Her sister in law (SIL) just had a baby and she was telling us about a recent visit and then started reading Mr. Hope the riot act about how he better behave when we have our baby. Suddenly it hit me that if I get pregnant any time in the next 12 months, BFF and I can't take the trip to Europe we have planned for our 40th birthday.

(A little history here: BFF and I are practically birthday twins. We also have husbands who tend to screw up birthday celebrations. So now we take a trip together each year, just the two of us, to celebrate our birthday. These are honestly the best vacations I have ever taken in my entire life. I spend half the year re-living them and the second half anticipating the next one.)

Mr. Hope said, "What, you wouldn't trust me with a newborn?" And I said, "Uh, that's not it at all. I'm thinking about breastfeeding." And then BFF and I had to school him about what that means and how I can't just pump and dump all over a foreign country, nor can I tote around a gimongous cooler of breast milk and take it home on the plane. BFF said, "We could always bring the baby with us," to which I replied, "On a seven-hour flight?" And then she was like, "Yeah, as soon as I started to think that through I realized it wouldn't be possible." 

Then we started talking about maybe postponing our 40th trip until the 41st birthday, which would give us time to save up more money and for me to finish breastfeeding, blah blah blah, and brainstorming contingency plans, like maybe doing a spa weekend nearby so we wouldn't skip the birthday thing altogether. 

It struck me that we were having the kinds of conversations that we used to have before my infertility diagnosis. The ones when I still believed that I could procreate. The ones we stopped having when my first two attempts at IVF had to be converted to IUI due to poor response/development of a lead follicle. When I started saying things like, "If we're lucky enough to get pregnant" instead of "When we have a baby."

I feel like making the decision to pursue the donor embryo path has given me, Mrs. Agony, a little bit of hope again. And I'm really liking how that feels.