Some time ago, my 2 year old daughter threw an unexpected temper tantrum over dinner at Disneyland. This may not sound like an unexpected thing to you, after all this is a a 2 year old we are talking about, a 2 year old being forced to interact with actual food at the happiest, tantrum capital on Earth. So you're right, the fit itself was absolutely to be expected, it was the impact it had and what it taught me that was so surprising.
It all started with a carrot. Snow Pea was dining on peas and baby carrots quite happily during dinner, carefully chewing each bite in hopes of scoring dessert at the end of her meal. Then, just as she was opening her mouth and about to tip the last carrot in, it fell to floor. She lost it. Completely melted down. "My carrot! I need my carrot!" Doing what any well-meaning but absent minded parent would do, I explained that the carrot was gone but it would be ok. Look! You can have dessert now! You didn't finish the last carrot but you get chocolate pie! But she didn't want chocolate pie. She only wanted that carrot. That last bite she was so ready for, but that had been taken away by an unfortunate combination of gravity and unrefined motor skills, was all that mattered. It was the first time I saw my daughter truly sob. Big, fat tears rolled down her face as she bawled, "my carrot! my carrot!"
I did not know what to do. I kept trying to comfort her, calm her down, but nothing helped. Until finally, I picked up the poor, lost carrot and let her hold it in her hand. I explained that she couldn't eat it and she just looked at it, took a big sigh and then put it on her plate. She stopped crying and asked quietly for a bite of the pie. And then I realized, it wasn't the carrot itself she needed, it was closure! My 2 year old reminded me, in what may seem like the silliest way, just how crucial of a need that is to all of us when our heart is set on something that we no longer get to have.
Since our third failed FET at the end of last year, I have struggled with my emotions and the unrest at not being able to decide what our next move will be. Chad and I had originally agreed that if December failed, that we would be done with trying and just live as a family of 3. But when I met with my RE we discovered that I had a uterine polyp that was a very likely culprit for the previous failures. After that I was very quickly scheduled for surgery to remove it and have my also potentially damaging tubes removed.
That was in January and my brain has been a yo-yo ever since. To cycle again or not? To be focus solely on my one, wonderful child or to do this just one more time? That last failure left me feeling so broken, so defeated, I really haven't wanted to go through it again. But then there was the surgery and with it that possibility that my body actually is capable of doing this again. I have gone back and forth a million times. More than anything, I want to be done with this phase of my life. I want to be out of the limbo that infertility creates and move forward to something else, whether that is with one child in my arms or two. But what I learned from the carrot is that I need closure to do that. And I know deep down that with the surgery success and embryos still in the freezer, that closure will never come unless I take the plunge again. I will always wonder "what if?" and I can't truly move forward with that in my head & heart. I have no doubt that I will be crushed if this still doesn't work. I will cry, I will hurt, I will mourn but I will find peace knowing that I can allow myself to let go. I can pick up that carrot that is my dysfunctional body, heave a big sigh and grab a bite of chocolate pie instead.