Worry, Guilt, And The Burden of 'What if'?

It's no secret that I obsess about things.

I obsess about even the smallest things in life, so you can imagine how I am with the biggest. I go over things and over things in my mind. Dissecting them, rethinking them, focusing on every last detail. I worry. I play things over and over in my mind. And I find it really hard to let things go, especially when I feel they could have been avoided, if only I'd been more on top of things.

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night sobbing.

I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. It was all Dave could do to comfort me. Sometimes infertility hurts to your very core. It's a rollercoaster. One minute you are up, the next you are so low you don't know if it's possible to bear so much pain. It sneaks up on us, squeezes, hurts so bad that you think the pain will kill you. And you can’t stop it. There is no rationalizing it. It comes fast and furious, taking hold and torturing our hearts, minds, and souls. It is a pain I wouldn't wish on anyone, unexplainable and completely devastating. It is simply unbearable.

The fear of this final cycle failing brought me to my knees last night. Even though it's now when I should be most hopeful. It's now when we've had more embryos growing in a lab than we ever have before. It's now when we are have the best chances with the best lab in the world that we've never had before. It's now when we might even have a few new embryos growing in the lab today that I should be jumping for joy. It's now when I should be celebrating that I am crying.

I hate infertility. this stupid ugly beast. She sends fear, her partner in crime into our hearts to torture us. To sap our hope. To remind us that we are kidding ourselves. That is has never worked before, so why would it work now. To taunt and laugh in our face and bring even the most hopeful person to their knees.

But my pain doesn't come from fear of failure. It comes from fear of regret. It comes from the fear that if this cycle fails, if we are forced to face a life without biological children, that I will be haunted forever, that I will never be able to let go of the guilt, of the 'what if' thinking. That I will never stop wondering if I could have done something to change the outcome.

Up until now, this was my biggest fear. I want closure. I want to be able to walk away knowing I did everything I could. That's why I put myself in a position to have no regrets. I ate all the right foods, got all the right bodywork, asked all the right questions, came to the best clinic and lab in the country, double checked my protocol, asked and reasked questions that I needed to know, scheduled regroups and extra appointments with our doctor. Up until now, I did everything I could. I dotted all our I's and crossed all our T's. I listened to all those nagging voices in my head.

Except one.

And that is what woke me up with uncontrollable sobbing, regret, and a feeling that it's my fault for ignoring the voice in my head that told me we were triggering too early. That I should have picked up the phone and questioned it. that I should have listened to that voice that told me I wanted to coast for one more night before triggering. That I should have at least called and told them my concerns.

And now it is too late. Half my eggs were immature, and I can't help feeling that if I had of listened to my gut feeling, I could somehow have changed the outcome and got us almost double the chances.

But what I'm even more afraid of, is that if this cycle fails, if we do get to the end of this and the answer is no, that I will always look back and wonder. The one thing I wanted to avoid. I will always be asking "what if?" And that is a fate worse than anyone should ever have to bear. Because I'm afraid that that question will torture me forever.

I know I need to stop. I need to focus on the good. But right now, I'm just so afraid. And can't stop asking:

What if?