I wish that I knew last week what I know today. Actually, I did know, I just chose to ignore those feelings and replace them with what I wanted. As Adam on Myt.hbusters says, "I reject your reality and substitute my own."
My appointment went the way it should have, and not how I so stupidly dreamed it would.
Diagnosis: Your F*cked Up.
Professional Opinion: If you go forward with pregnancy, you're a f*cking idiot. Pray that God has you, your baby, and your pregnancy gently in His hands.
Fame Status: You're 1 in a million baby, and everyone in Texas is talking about you. (No, really, they are. Doctors are calling my new RE to ask about my case because they are afraid for their patients with septum removals. Why? Because this never happens. It is so rare. Hooray for me! I am so glad I get to be that person.)
Where I Am: Can I please just forget all of this happened? Can I just move forward with the knowledge that my daughter is all I will ever have and forget that I am broken? Can I just forget that I have failed?
How I Feel: ANGRY. God and I need to have a talk.
Right now I am just not in the mood to talk about any of this. I don't want to talk about the appointment and what I was told. I don't want to talk about the million directions my mind is going. I don't want to talk about how I'm trying to process this. I don't want to talk about my options. I don't want to be optimistic or look on the bright side right now. I just want to shove it all to the recesses of my mind and forget about it.
Where Did My Positivity Go? I think it leaked out the hole in my uterus along with my chances of bearing more children.
For the first time ever, this infertile doesn't want to talk about it.
Thank God for antidepressants and shrinks.