In the past, birthdays have always been a huge deal to me.
I usually celebrate big.
This year, not so much.
In fact, my birthday went by with very little fan fare which was fine by me.
My 36th birthday was almost week ago. It was last Saturday. Memorial Day weekend. Great for partying it up which is usually right up my alley. This is how I usually roll on my birthdays...
Last year for my 35th b-day, I celebrated with my girlfriends at happy hour and with my hubby and his family in Mammoth.
My "annual" 29th birthday party AKA 34th b-day
At the club for my 30th with my besties
house party for my 28th birthday
You get the idea. Surrounded by friends. Smiles. Laughs. Drinks.
And my personal fave...a little dancing.
But this year I was happy to just let it slip by. Forget it was even happening. My in-laws came into town from San Diego and we had a very low key dinner. Nothing fancy. No cake. No candles. No alcohol. This was a first for me...on all counts.
I can't tell you why. Except that I didn't really feel like I had much to celebrate. I'm another year older. Another year without a baby. We are another year as an infertile couple. Facing another year of IVF expenses and TTC. And another year closer to end of this journey.
Today is my sweet husband's birthday. Our birthdays are six days apart. He turned 37. I spoke with him a few times today since he's at work. Each time I wished him a happy birthday, he said he'd forgotten it was his birthday. I wonder if he feels the same way I felt.
Today is cycle day one. Last night about 11pm, I welcomed AF and my frequent, unwanted visitor... endometriosis pain. It sucks but I've accepted it. The pain comes and goes. When it is gone, I always know it will return. I can count on that.
Something has changed though. And I kinda feel like it is a big something. I'm not sad. I'm not disappointed. It is what it is.
I'm just tired and I'm resolved.
It hit me today. My hope for natural conception has officially died. This is the first month in 54 long months that I didn't force the baby dance just because I was ovulating. Just in case. Nope. I didn't even care. I knew I wouldn't get pregnant this month. I knew we wouldn't save $30,000 if we just tried...even if we weren't in the mood. It's done. We are going to Denver. I've accepted that fact.
I no longer take my temperature or chart my cycles or take OPK's. I'm an infertility veteran. I know exactly when I'm ovulating. I no longer think this might be our month. I no longer take pregnancy tests when my boobs get sore or my period is late. I finally know better. I don't believe I'll ever get pregnant on my own.
Maybe never get pregnant, period. But never on our own. In case you were wondering how long it takes for someone to finally accept the inevitable, for me...it took 54 months.