Struggling again...but trying to hold on to hope

I love medicine.  I love teaching medical students (on those rare occasions when I actually know something).  I am no good at either the medicine or the teaching, but I enjoy them.

It helps not a bit.  I sit in the radiology reading room to review a CT abdomen and a pelvic ultrasound series, but my mind is back in March 2010 when I was the one on the receiving end of the pelvic ultrasound, and the same Dr. J was reading, and they couldn't even find two streak ovaries.  Just one.  I remember the student ultrasound tech's sympathy, and how I tried to reassure her that this was ok, they had proved my uterus was normal, so this wasn't really bad news.

I couldn't have known that two months later a certain REI specialist would tell me my PERFECTLY NORMAL aorta is in terrible (yes, because 2-5% is such a high rate) danger of dissection if I become pregnant.

(By the way -- that same aorta has had no trouble pumping blood for a six-mile run.  Just saying.)

It was like this last time, too -- the sadness was a delayed reaction.  Again I walk on leaden legs, and my thoughts are 80% baby/infertility-related.

I should be looking forward.  Our new donor had a successful consult pending the send-out genetic tests which should be back in a week, and we are hoping for a transfer in late July or early August.  But I stopped expecting last August.  Why should this ever work?  My therapist told me this will eventually work out -- that I am motivated, and keep trying, so it will eventually work out.  If only.  It won't work.  The only future I see is one in which I continue to watch everyone else have children while I remain forever childless.  The only reason I am even willing to board the emotional roller-coaster again is that I won't accept this childless future.

My mentor/internist/person to whom I come crying far more than I ought tells me motherhood is great but not all that life has to offer, and that I shouldn't let it be the only reason I exist.  I'm a "wonderful human being with lots to offer."  If only that last were true.  I am unwonderful.  I do one thing well, and that is complain.  And what could I possibly do that would provide the same connection, with all its wonderful and pull-you-hair-out moments, as motherhood?

I feel sad and alone.  And the worst part is, I am not alone and I should be grateful for all the wonderful people and pets and things in my life.  Infertility isn't making me sad.  I am.

Told you I was unwonderful.