I am quitting clomid. I am quitting trying to have a baby. I am quitting thinking about what being pregnant would have been like.
I, officially, quit.
I'm quitting, I've found, because I'm selfish.
A girl grows tired of only seeing one pink line on a pregnancy test month after month. I'd rather have my sanity back. I'd also like to travel and would like to sleep in -- or sleep naked -- on the weekends when kids aren't in the house. I like knowing what empty-nest syndrome feels like in my 30s. I like it when my husband goes out of town and I have the house to myself in the evenings because my stepkids are, rightfully, with their mom.
I am a selfish stepmom.
If I ever went to a counselor, I wonder if they'd tell me I'm merely deflecting my real feelings: that I'm in a deep state of denial about the infertility and have built a wall around my true feelings.
Wall or not, I'm moving on with my life....without my own biological children; and man does it feel liberating.