The thing that scares me the most...

So my brother was in town last night and had me drive him to the airport this morning.  On the car ride there, he decides to bring up our infertility struggle.  Everyone in the family knows I'm open and honest about it, but with my brother...I just don't talk to much about it.  Well he asked if we had explored "other options" since this last failed treatment cycle.  I explained that simply, no- because we were not interested in things like donor sperm, surrogates, or adoption.  (This after he dropped the annoying comment that well meaning friends and family don't realize hurt so bad of "well if I had not had that vasectomy...I would have made and given you guys a kids to have"....Thanks... like "it's so freaking easy for me and my wife to have a kids that give us three months, I could have produced one for you, you broken-charity-case-couple.")

But I digress.  So he asked why we wouldn't be interested in adoption.  (Don't get me wrong...for those of you that have or are planning to, I hail you...but it's everyone's personal choice and it irks me that people throw it at you so casually!).  I told him that it costs similar to a shared risk IVF session.  And takes about the same amount of time (minimum) because of paperwork, home study, etc.  THEN you pick a woman who wants to give up her child, help pay medical bills, etc.  get your heart and hopes set on this being your child...and at the last minute she changes her mind?!  We have a friend who's parents adopted him.  They went through the process four times before they got their "take home" baby.  I really don't think I could go through all that!  And we really would like a child that is part Jeff and part me...thus why we also would not consider Donor Sperm.

Then (*and this is when I started actually crying while driving instead of just having some tears stream down my face....which is just what you want when you're doing 70mph on I-90) I said the thing that scares me most: That since Jeff is six years older than me, and has a family history of the male line in his family not living long (his Dad at 68 is the oldest living male Juice-ski known .Ever.)  That say 30 years from now...Jeff passes away.  And I'm 64 (my mother's current age, which no longer seems so old to me).  And alone.  And no one cares about me.    And I said..."Mom and Dad will be dead.  You're older.  You'll pass away and I'll just be left with a few nephews that they'll see every couple of years because "Aunt Kate" doesn't have anywhere to go on Thanksgiving.  And because they will not want my crap...I'll have to donate it to Good Will."

And (silly brother) to lighten the mood...he joked "Do you think Good Will will want your crap?"  I said laughing through tears, "Well, I don't know that I'll have any good crap, so no Charity will want it.  Might as well let them sell it and get some use off of the crap."  So he continued to joke, "Boy, that future seems pretty bleak.  You might want to take up knitting.  Too bad you're allergic to cats, 'cause you could be that weird cat lady that knits.  Maybe you could get some turtles or fish or something."  Funny, Dan. Funny. Then my brother said, "As long as I'm alive there will be someone who cares about it."  ((Sweet, no?))  And so by this point, we are close to the airport and ease into a new topic and I drop him off.

Sadly though, I could not stop thinking about this as I drove off to work, or the first few hours of work.  And it just kept making me tear up.  I am happy that I've come to a head space where I am accepting of the idea of living child free if needed (we'll see if we get to the end of the treatment road, if I'm still that confident).  Now, if only I can get past that vision of my old age without Jeff.  : (

Sorry if you read this blogger of a downer, but since this has become like my diary or therapy or whatever - it's good to just get it out.