Anniversary. (And Thankful Too.)

July 13, 2011 at 6:00 am | Posted in Heartbreak, Infertility | 16 Comments

Today is my due date from the last time I was ever pregnant.

Or ever will be pregnant, I guess.

J and I had a conversation this weekend about our remaining embryos. And even though nothing earth shattering was said in that conversation, no decisions were made, I felt a very distinct shift in mindset.

We’ve lost hope in ART. And because of that, we’re unwilling to spend any more time or energy on going back to our RE.

And so when I asked J, Are you really DONE? he knew what I was asking.

Was there any chance we would go back and try again?

It was like we were talking about a death, where both of us acknowledged that we were really sad about the loss of our dream of multiple children.

But we both have accepted the reality that hope is now gone.

We’re done.

And so this due date, for me, is rife with emotion.

It’s not just acknowledging a loss of a pregnancy.

But it’s realizing that it was, in fact, the last time I’ll ever get to BE pregnant.

It’s acknowledging the loss of hope.

It’s acknowledging that there are forces in this world of which we have no control, no matter how much we wish otherwise.

It’s acknowledging that we spent years believing that it’ll all be worth it in the end.

But then we were spit out of the process with bitter knowledge.

Sometimes it ISN’T worth it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay, really OKAY, with the years of loss and fear and broken hope.

But I am closer to acceptance. Which counts for something.

To My Little Embryo That Wasn’t:

I miss you.

I’m sorry.

I love you and wish you had made it to my arms.

____________________________________________

I wrote this last night, when the melancholy grief was at its peak.

Today I woke up to the sound of my son running into the bedroom, calling “Mommy!!!”

And I played racing cars with him, when he asked me, Mommy, you want to play with my Lightning McQueen too?

Today, I thank my lucky stars every day that he’s a part of our life. He’s a salve for my grief in every way.

As much as I wish it were different, that we weren’t infertile, that we could have a dozen babies and get pregnant whenever we considered it… we wouldn’t have HIM if that were the case.

No matter what happened before and after him, I never lose sight of the fact.

We are so lucky to have him.

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16 Comments »

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  1. Sorry to hear you’re feeling this way, but I completely understand. I can’t see trying again either.

  2. *hugs*
    I’m here if you need me. I’m sorry you are going through so much right now.

  3. Always keeping you in prayer… .. HUGS!

  4. Flooding you with love and support and thinking of you.

  5. “O” was worth it.
    I do know what you’re saying though. I get it 110%…. hugs

  6. I understand what a difficult day this is for you. Thinking of you today.

  7. What an awful bittersweet day. Abiding with you.

  8. Look at that cute little guy with the Lightning McQueen under-roos. Adorable.
    ***************************************************************

    I don’t think you’ll ever get over the years wasted, but I do hope that with time the ache goes away. I emailed a friend that adopted her children after infertility the other day to tell her that I was pregnant. I wanted to give her time to process it; I wasn’t sure if she would be upset by it. She said that there was a long time where she was upset by it, but now her life feels so full that she no longer has that ache. I hope the same will be true for you one day, my friend.

  9. You’re allowed all that melancholy and grief, really you are. The dream of having multiple children, it’s a dream more than worth mourning.

    And yes, you are very lucky with your boy O, but one emotion doesn’t cancel out the other.

  10. I had a similar moment after our last failed cycle. I realized that I spent almost the whole decade of my 30’s in the blackness of infertility. Yes, I ended up with a son who is a joy and who I am grateful for, but I also knew I didn’t want to spend my 40’s living in that blackness again. There was just too much loss and broken-ness.

  11. “No matter what happened before and after him, I never lose sight of the fact.”

    Here, here!

  12. You are in my thoughts. I know you are grateful for O, and I’m so thankful you have him. But I’m still sorry for your pain.

  13. Thinking of you now and always. It’s okay to be happy for what you have and sad for what you do not.

    I wish this hadn’t even been a post you needed to write.

    XOXO

  14. […] since J and I had the weekend talk about our lack of hope with ART, I’ve felt something shift inside […]

  15. I didn’t get a chance to reply to this earlier – my first thought was wow, I can’t believe that much time has passed already! But I wanted to say that yes, you are lucky to have O. And not just because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, and you have not been pregnant again. Also because he is cute and smart and fun to be with. This anniversary must be hard, but I’m glad you’re starting to find some peace with being done.

  16. My heart breaks and warms at the same time.

    Bea


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