Follow me on the crazy, hopeful, discouraging, funny, and ultimately successful (one way or another) path to parenthood while facing infertility.

Monday, October 24, 2016

#Microblog Mondays: Different Time, Same Old Place



Remember back to November 2014, when I wrote about the house that we saw on a whim, that was absolutely perfect for us (well, except for being a tad over our budget and having a pool and being over 3000 square feet which is a LOT of house)--but we couldn't buy it because we were living in uncertainty, doing our tenth cycle (which would be canceled the week my grandmother passed away), and we just felt the timing wasn't right?

If it came up for sale again, which we were sure it wouldn't anytime soon (because it was GORGEOUS and had a great location), we would be in a different place and maybe then we could buy it, because it truly was The House That Got Away. The house where I could see us doing Christmas in the living room and having people over for dinner in the open kitchen dining area and hosting book club in the family room out back, but that (like SO MUCH ELSE) just wasn't timed right.

We went to get pumpkins on Sunday after lunch, and drove past the very same house, and I just about caused an accident when I saw that it had an OPEN HOUSE TODAY sign out front.

What choice did we have? We walked through it, quite possibly the most depressed potential (and yet not at all potential) homebuyers the real estate agent had seen that day (possibly ever). We noticed where the new owners painted the bedrooms neat colors, where their daughter's room had blackboard paint in the dormer that read, "Olivia is da bomb!" and "I want to live in a world where normal is an insult," and her walk-in closet held a Griffyndor scarf by the hideaway window. Like the only child who lived there was even the one who got away, in a weird moment of irrational thought.

The house is slightly different, and something bad's happened where they have to move -- some kind of downsizing not quite two years after they bought it, some kind of personal tragedy or rift. A lot can happen in two years.

Unless you're us. Unless you are walking through the SAME HOUSE you walked through two years ago, seeing how time has changed and things have shifted FOR EVERYONE EXCEPT YOU.

Because for us, really, nothing has changed -- we still live in uncertainty. We still have to keep the money that we might be able to use as a down payment at the ready in case we get that call. We are still hoping and waiting and trying not to feel so incredibly STATIONARY, so put on pause while everyone else seems to go on living their lives.

It put me in a funk. I had to buy something like 14 pumpkins, grief pumpkins, to help cheer me up and even then I was in a "What is going ON? Why do we always get the cosmic FINGER?" mood.

There are perfectly good reasons why we won't buy this house. If we bought it, we'd have to get ours ready for sale (and it is not ready whatsoever), we'd have to redo our home study for a new house, and we'd be strapping ourselves financially at the worst possible time. We'd be putting the length of my maternity leave at risk. We'd be putting our ability to take any call that comes at risk. And Bryce hates pools.

And I have to say that walking through the house again didn't quite have the same giddy "this is totally OUR HOUSE" feel it did the first time. Maybe because it felt a little used, a little tainted by the quick turnaround. Maybe because we've accepted that we are in a place of stasis and we were just torturing ourselves, going through the house that we knew we ultimately can't make ours.

Living like this just reminds us how far infertility reaches, how long we've lived in this hideous limbo, and how very different absolutely EVERYTHING would be had we been able to have a child without quite so much effort.

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy!

17 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry, Jess. That does feel awful: to be walking through a space where you can imagine yourself, but not as you are right now, to watch everyone else changing and feel awful about being left where you were. Sending hugs ... the limbo sucks. I wish I *did* have a Magic 8 Ball answer for you, but you're right; that doesn't always make things better, either.

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    1. Thank you... it does suck, but it will end at some point...right? I appreciate the hugs.

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  2. You're right. Limbo is hideous. I remember the feeling of relief I had when I first thought about what life would be like when treatments finished, knowing that we could plan our life again. So I'm sending hugs, as you live through this.

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    1. It is hideous! Relief. Yes. One way or the other, I am getting to a point where I can't live in the limbo state indefinitely. Thank you for your hugs!

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  3. At first I thought, "No way!" I can't believe the house is back on the market. But... I get it. When you write out the reasons it's not a good idea, it totally makes sense. Sending you hugs. Your last sentences struck home for me. That limbo. How much more you could have had if you weren't going through infertility. My daughter is 11 months and I still struggle with those feelings. How we have no savings. How we struggle every month because of astronomical IVF loans that will take years to pay off. It's so tough.

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    1. It was TOTALLY a "No Way!" moment. And then a really depressing moment. And now I can see that it's not really our House That Got Away, that there will be another house out there for us when everything has settled. And yeah, can you imagine what it would be like to enjoy your family without the stress and ongoing cost of IVF? I'm sorry you struggle with this lingering thing too.

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  4. I have a dream house. One with a huge porch, perfect for a porch swing to spend lazy summer evenings and a side space that's perfect for a small garden and a large backyard. I remember walking through and seeing the large foyer with the elevated ceilings that allow you to see the second floor and the spacious kitchen that could become the center of a home.

    It's slowly being changed by the people who own it. The dream is shifting and a big part of me is sad for it.

    It's hard to feel like you are outside looking in. That the dreams we had are feeling used by others. To see others go on while we feel like we're standing still. It's one of the many terrible things infertility saddles onto those living through it. And I'm so sorry for it. It's far more than unfair.

    I'm so sorry that your dream house has been tainted.

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    1. I'm trying to see it as NOT the dream house anymore. It's missing a porch, which is my real dream too, and while a pool is a neat thing I would be terrified of drowning small humans. I will always wonder What If, because it's human nature to think on what might have been if only things had been different. I have to believe there's a better house out there that's more perfect for us, that will reveal itself when the time is actually right. It just sucks that the time is NEVER right and it seems like this stuck-feeling won't ever end. Thank you for your thoughts!

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  5. Ooof, that's such a hard one. Those reminders are the insult to the injury that is infertility. I'm sorry you're stuck in this limbo. I wish there was something that would make it better or the waiting easier - it just sucks so, so much. Sending thoughts and hopes.

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    1. Thank you for your thoughts and hopes...I wish there was something (other than some wine) that would make it better, truly better. It felt like a punch in the gut, but it's just a dull ache today. :)

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  6. Ah, yes, infertility. The gift that just keeps on giving....sigh. You just need a new dream. And that house belonged to an old dream.

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    1. That house did belong to an old dream. It will be so much better when we are resolved and we can move knowing that everything is settled (ha, is there ever a time when EVERYTHING is settled???) and it's the right time. It just stinks that we thought there might be a right time and it still eludes us. Someday it will all come together and we won't feel constantly on pause.

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  7. Oh wow-how crazy and sad the house is back on the market again so soon. Maybe it didn't feel right because it isn't right anymore...maybe you have actually outgrown that house-that dream. Even if you feel exactly the same, you have changed over the last 2 years in some way, not matter how small.
    I agree with Bryce about hating pools. I do not like the idea of having a pool in my own yard...it makes me feel nervous and unsettled, worrying about the kids and the dogs. When we were looking at houses, we saw SO many with pools. My realtor said that not only do you have to factor in the cost of the maintainence of running the pool (chemicals, electrical, general upkeep, ect) but that a pool also significantly raises Home owners Insurance AND property tax. So there's that.

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  8. The last line really got me. Not so much about my life now, but I often had similar thoughts at the end of my previous marriage and while grieving the end of that relationship. Living in limbo is terrible. I hate the feeling stuck while it seems everyone else is moving forward. Sad to hear about the change of hands in the house so relatively quickly. Sounds like some lost dreams there, too.

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  9. I'm sorry seeing that house again made you feel like your lives have been stagnant. It sounds like you are making the right choice not to make an offer based on your current situation though. Hopefully another even better fit for you house will come along when the timing is better in the future and then you can make your own happy family memories there.

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  10. Ugh - the Universe better stop kicking you when you're down! Keeping you in my thoughts. *hugs*

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  11. I hate pools too, but I love grief pumpkins. There is nothing like being stuck while everyone else moves on, sometimes towards better things or worse things, but never as stagnant as you feel. When you get that call, though, things are going to change SO fast. I can't wait for that day.

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