I Guess We Have a Diagnosis (or, The Worst Has Come To Pass)

At the risk of jumping to conclusions, I would venture to say that we may just have a diagnosis. My tubes are clear, I O like clockwork, but my husband's swimmers aren't that great. Looks like a ducks, quacks like a duck, must be MFI.

I googled our particular flavor of MFI (morphology) and it appears that, not only is MFI the most difficult kind of IF to overcome, but this KIND of MFI is the most difficult of that. Something about the sperm being unable to penetrate the egg because of the... well... the deformity of the head.

*sigh*

I try not to dwell on bad things, and really, I haven't had much serious heartache in my life, but as I sit here and write this, and allow myself to really think about the repercussions, my stomach is flipping over and tightening up. I think I am about to panic. And then come the tears.

This was not supposed to happen to me. And even as we were in the early stages of trying, and I would read other women's blogs, and they would talk of never thinking it would happen to them, the thought would float up from the depths of my consciousness, and I would smack it down, and drown it, stuff it under a layer of optimism. That layer is getting thin. Its getting like a white cotton shirt that you have bleached too many times, and its getting gauzy, and you have to be really careful with it, or else it will tear.
Shit. I think there's a hole.

I am scared. What if everything I have hoped and dreamed of will never come to pass?
I think I am going to throw up.

Ok, Ok. Chill out. Things will work out. They always do.
But what if this is the time that they don't?

Stop. Look, we have only had one SA, maybe it was a flukey one.

What if I have been using up all the "good luck chips" throughout my life so far, and now, I have all run out. No more good luck chips. No more good luck.

I can't rewrite the plan I had for my life. I want a dinner table surrounded by my kids, and their spouses and their kids. I don't want a life of being "Auntie Erin", of showering someone else's kids with my affection and time because I have no other outlet. I was going to write that I hope that doesn't sound selfish, but I am not sure that I care.
I don't want my husband to have to rewrite the plans for his life. I don't want us to be the barren family.

I pray that this is a bit of a blip, and not a true bump in the road. Just a little stone, not an axel-jarring crevasse.

I just can't get that white shirt to cover all the negative thoughts, and the more I scramble and pull the more it rips.