The "it will all work out" guy...

I've been drinking too much recently (including at this very moment - a Sunday night when I should definitely be thinking about going to be early -without waking up fuzzy-headed tomorrow). I learned tonight (thanks, and UNthanks to the alcohol) that my husband doesn't think about "what if this doesn't work."

I don't know why I find this disturbing enough to dedicate a post to. I guess because I think about it. A lot. Probably more than I think about "how wonderful it would be if it DID work."

Maybe that's why we work together - he thinks positively, I cover all the "what if" scenarios. I guess it's always been that way. I am without a doubt the worrier, he is the ever optimistic (if very annoying) "it will all work out" guy.

It's probably the alcohol in the first place that allows us to even fathom the conversation of "what if"...but it also seems to be the conversation that starts the ever infamous argument: "why do you think of that" / "why don't you think of that" - outcome.

Here's some background (strictly MY perspective of course): I recently got turned on to Link TV. In a nutshell, it's a news channel (that also does documentaries, cultural music shows) with perspectives from inside foreign countries - Cuba, Germany, Middle East...etc.. I have no idea how I've been missing out on this station from my Direct TV lineup all this time, but I have.

I flipped it on the other day and ooooh'ed and aaaah'ed over a 30 minute news clip about Barack Obama's family in Kenya. A tiny portion of the piece centered around a school in Kenya that they dedicated to him. It's called (of course): The Senator Barack Obama Primary School. There was a kid in the school who looked to be around 16 or so that spoke perfect English and said he dreamed of having the opportunity of coming to the U.S. and studying to be a doctor so he could support his family back home.

Like flipping a switch I had a bit of an epiphany. Well, maybe not an epiphany, but maybe a moment that made me stop and think: "Jesus, K, there are a zillion things in this world that are worse than not having a child."

Excuse my pure liberal dribble, but when I was 16, I certainly was not dreaming about becoming a doctor - much less planning out my career in order to support my family. Hell, I was barely thinking about college. In my mind, college wasn't even something that - other than picking a school - I needed to worry about. It wasn't that my parents were rich (quite the opposite), but it was always assumed that "they would find a way." Not that I intentionally took that fact for granted, but the idea of college was always kind of assumed when I grew up....I would pick a college...I would go. My only real decision to make was "what would I major in" / "what would my profession be." To be honest, in my mind, cost was kind of a secondary factor.

And (to clear the air), I'm not a total idiot. Yes, I know there are millions and millions of people in the world that simply did not grow up with the idea of college - that an education like that was financially out of the question. It seems stupid that somebody 30 years old (me!) would finally and suddenly be affected by the fact (per one 30 minute news clip) that these people are really out there. So it's not the realization that they actually exist. It just suddenly struck me that here's a 16 year old kid who TRULY knows the importance (as in life or death) of success...of ambition, of drive. And all he needs is someone to put forth the faith in him - take a chance on him to make this happen...for him to become a doctor so he can support his family.

Drum Roll, please......

Then I started thinking about all the money (all the fucking money) we have blown (and I mean seriously thrown the fuck away) in order to have a child. I thought about how important it is to us. And why it's important to us. And it is selfish? And it is a waste? And could it be spent in ways that could REALLY make a difference in the world? And what is it that drives us to keep spending this money? Could I live my life (without regret) without having kids? Could my husband live his life (without regret) without having kids? And what if this entire infertility journey has just to been to take us to a place where we find ourselves ok with not having kids? What if my inability to withstand repeated IVF attempts was just to break me down and force me to explore other options that I never would've considered without the pain of the last few years?

I'm not a religious person at all. If I'm being honest, I'm 90 percent athesist, with a 10 percent chance of "what if". In conversation I define myself as "agnostic"...a very generic way of saying "hell if I know what's out there - but I'm not against the idea of there not being anything out there." The closest I get to going to church is doing yoga, or practicing a quick meditation on Saturday morning.

But there is a very big part of me that thinks things happen for a reason. I don't mean that it makes sense - or it's fair - that we can't have kids. I do, however, spend a lot of time recently thinking maybe this really is more about the journey than the outcome. Maybe us having kids doesn't even matter. For my own personal journey - it's figuring out if I can live my live without kids without turning into a bitter person (my mother) who chases away all her fertile friends, or sits around feeling sorry for herself. Maybe it's just finding out if my husband and I can survive repeated failures (which at this point I don't think we can, I know we can). Maybe it's something bigger like - turning me into a person who can overcome her fear of adoption and raise someone else's child who could turn around and save the world. Maybe it's smaller - we get sick of a quiet house, so we rescue shelter animals. Maybe all of it is completely random and irrelevant - maybe we really DO live out our lives sleeping in on Saturdays with our coffees and newspapers, no sound of little giggles in front of Saturday morning cartoons. Or maybe this mess is all some great Karmic test to see if we can create good out of something horribly bad....

Hence, this entirely long druken post....

The kid from the Obama news clip.

My thought (that I'm seeing way into the future and my husband hasn't even begun to consider yet): instead of throwing our money away...if we DO get to the point where we've decided that "enough is enough" and we've given up on IVF...I want to do something good. I want to start a charity...or I want to ship some kid over from god-knows-where, let them live in our house while they get their PhD, go on to support their families back in the homelands...or I want to spend all this IVF money on food for local food pantries...or I want to who knows what....

All I know is we've made shit-loads of sacrifices for children we are starting to not even be able to imagine having. It would seem crazy to "move on" from IVF and not do something amazing with that money that we're already used to not having. Somehow honor the children that we won't have - honor the little bits of life that we created...change lives that already exist....

It's just that I know if the next 2 cycles don't work and if I don't find myself something extremely proactive to do for my fellow man (or 4-legged friend), this may consume me. I don't want it to consume me. If this doesn't work, I will need something important and meaningful to keep my head above water. I know that in a handful of months, if cycle 4 doesn't work, and cycle 5 doesn't work...we're left empty-handed. With no new options. That's why I need to plan ahead. Because the idea of Cycle Six sounds asinine. It seems selfish. It seems stupid. If it hasn't worked by number 5, how can it ever? And if we're going on that idea, we're more than halfway done with this journey. We're running out of next cycles.

It's time to start reaching within and seeing what else it is that we pull out besides foolish hopefullness, biological desperation and irrational optimism. I've been more than lost in this for more than a few years, and it's past time I started thinking of more than the life I always thought I'd have and came to grips with the life I actually have. And the biggest part of that is realizing that the life I actually have can be the life I always thought it would.