This cycle has been surprising to me in getting me to think more deeply about my relationship with my daughter. Now eight, she's in a word, incredible. A Harry Potter-reading, dancing, singing tornado of smiles cut by the usual tantrums. She's a joy. For reals.
It's weird putting yourself through the torture of an IVF cycle and potential pregnancy - that you know will be joyless - when your house is already filled with a fuckton of joy. You step back and look at yourself and go "why did I sign up for this again?"
We never set out to give her a sibling per se. As an only child myself, I've always been pretty confident that she would be fine as an only child too. Based on how I've seen her interact with younger kids, I think she'd get quite the kick out of life being a big sister to another baby in the household, but good god it's not like I want her to have to experience the responsibilities of motherhood at such a young age.
I carry so much grief and trauma from the past five years. I am fairly certain that whatever the future holds, I'll still be a walking basket case in need of a lot of self-indulgence and dance classes. If I am ever lucky to mother another baby I'm sure I will still be heading straight to my therapist.
But it's interesting....This whole donor egg experience is so high stakes - the cash laid out,
the injections, the gloom - and yet, at the end of the day, I do know we will be
fine. We have the Nibble. I believe she's the only tethering me to sanity in this sea of craziness.
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