...until I received an email from the Alumnae magazine from my prestigious, East Coast, liberal arts college asking alumnae news:
"Your classmates would love to hear about you, so please share your news. Photos are welcome too- just be sure to send a caption with everyone's name and class year (if applicable) listed."
Here you go, snooty college - here's my announcement:
"Jem and Mr. Jem have been unable to conceive a baby on their own and attempted IVF this quarter. She produced 26 eggs, and 5 excellent embryos (see picture above). Unfortunately, even though 2 implanted, neither were viable, leaving her and Mr. Jem completely crushed. She's been in contact with dear friends X, Y, and Z, who are all able to conceive (two with some extra medical help). She'd love to hear from other classmates whose hearts have been ripped out by infertility."
Fuck you, college!
On a happier note, I did make an appointment with my therapist, Rose, for Friday. It has helped to be able to vent here in this blog, but this woman has known me since Oct 1999. Rose has been there for me through a job lay-off, cancer (melanoma on my right shoulder), my marriage to Mr. Jem and all the doubts I had about that, Mr. Jem's job lay-offs, me supporting Mr. Jem through school, Mr. Jem's avoidance of TTC, my fears about being a good, deserving mother (see previous post), our TTC naturally, the stark reality of IF. The last time I saw her was right before embarking on TTC with ART.
I love Rose. She's absolutely wonderful. I had a fantasy that the next time I went to see her would be to talk about coping with PG. Yet another fantasy crushed by IF.
Fuck you, IF!