Good News and Coming Clean

The results of the Rh antibody test came back yesterday, and the test was negative. Yea! That was a huge relief. Deep down, I knew how afraid I was of the possibility that it would come back positive, but I had been trying to take the ostrich route and not think about it too much. I’m glad that little drama is over.

Speaking of dramas, before I begin this next part, I will issue a disclaimer:

If you’re feeling fragile, you may want to stop reading here. I’m not pregnant, but there will be discussion of a baby and, well, us…

This is something I haven’t blogged about yet, because I just haven’t had it in me to put it down in words and put it out here. But I’ve slowly begun to process all the feelings, and I figure it’s probably time to work up the courage and come clean.

The thing is, we’re matched with a birth mom again. (That sentence was supposed to be in teeny, tiny type, but I can't seem to make the blog recognize the html code I added, so pretend you're squinting to read it.) I’m trying not to be afraid, but apparently I can only bring myself to write that in a whisper. We’re pretty much only whispering in real life, too. We’ve told some friends who are also dealing with infertility, and we’ve told our bosses about it, because it’s only fair to give them as much notice as possible. But I’ve only told a couple of fertile friends, and we haven’t told any of our family. I’m not even tempted to say anything to them at this point – it’s just easier not to.

I won’t go into too many details here: I know it’s unlikely that the mom is spending her time browsing the infertility blogosphere, but as my mom says, you can never be too paranoid careful.

The due date is still a ways away, and the situation has already hit a few bumps that we thought might derail it for a while, but we’re still moving forward at this point.

I feel like I should be happy. I feel guilty that I’m afraid, because what kind of faith is that? My faith seems to be in a very sad, sorry state lately. But to be honest, I spent the first few weeks after the match feeling angry. Angry that we have to go through this process in the first place, angry that each day is “ok, what else is going to come up with this situation that we have to deal with?” rather than “yea, we’re one day closer to being parents.”, angry that I can’t enjoy this.

The anger has settled down for the most part. Now I can’t quite tell if I have peace, or if I’m just feeling resigned. R and I still talk about "the match" (again, teeny tiny type meant only to be seen by squinting) in qualifying terms – “ ‘at this point,’ it’s still going forward”; “ ‘hopefully’ she’ll go through with this”; “ ‘so far,’ she still seems to want to do this.”

Maybe I’m stronger this time around, or maybe there’s just a much tougher, hard-to-penetrate layer of armor around my heart now. Because I know that either way, whatever happens with this situation, we’ll be ok in the end. Hopefully parents, maybe not, but ultimately, ok.