I drove a minivan in high school. The kind with the fake wood paneling on the side. It was old and wreaked of stale McDonald’s cheesburgers, cigarettes and the bad strawberry air freshener that was working just a little too hard to try and cover up the cigarettes. It had a busted taillight from the time I let Nacho, the foreign exchange student from Mexico back it out of the driveway at a Halloween party. It was ugly as shit. But it was perfect. I could fit half the drill team in the back of that thing to cruise around town with our pom poms and Natty Lite. And I loved how at only 95 pounds, I felt like I ruled the road.
I always assumed there would come a stage in life when I’d drive a minivan again.
But minivans aren’t for people like me.
They’re for my sister-in-law who is about to have her (whoopsie) fourth baby, any hour now. That phone call is a-coming. They’re for those friends of mine who once rode in the back of my own minivan. Even the ones who swore back then they’d never drive one themselves. They’re for the woman in the elevator at my doctor’s office on the day I found out that this cycle, too, had failed. She had an adorable little girl and an equally-adorable 8-month bump and politely looked away as I struggled to hold back my tears.
Today will be my last appointment with the Dragon Lady. For a while at least. Not necessarily because she got my hopes up this time, only to be dashed again – though I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a small part of it. But because it’s starting to look like this ever-building mound of medical bills, prescription payments and IVIG infusion costs isn’t going away any time soon. And on top of that, it looks like we may need to throw on a round of self-funded IVF. And so something has to give.
So, no, minivans, they are not for me. At least not any time soon.
8 thoughts on “Minivans are for other people”
I’m so sorry. Sending you good thoughts as you move forward.
I am sorry. I’ve been thinking about you, hoping for a good news update. I hope so much that you get to drive a mini van someday in the not-too-distant future. Hugs.
It sucks that this wasn’t a good cycle for you…. Maybe it’s a good thing to take a break from all the treatments. Not only will it be good for your finances, it also will be good to clear your head from all the baby stuff. I wish you a minivan in the near future. A cute but practical one 🙂
Agree. Thanks for the good wishes.
Sheesh. Life is so hard sometimes. I hope you get your minivan eventually. X
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Heartbreaking. I’m so sorry.
I started my infertility journey in my early 30s, and the best gift my doctor gave me was to say, early on, that there was nothing more he could for me. That he’d be willing to try if I wanted, but that he was not optimistic. It was hard to hear, but I actually felt a huge weight of anxiety lifted. No more questions about how long we could keep this up, no more uncertainty, and hopes rising only to be dashed. My doctor freed me to start thinking about Plan B for starting a family. That was 4 years ago. I could have spent 4 years trying and trying and trying, but instead I moved to Plan B and have been a mom for 2 amazing years.
These days, there are so many ways to build a family. Foreign adoption, adoption of older children, fostering, egg donation, surrogacy… Don’t be too narrowly focused on just one way. Put a limit on how much time and energy you spend on Plan A. Those years you spend could instead be spent being a mother.