Beginning Again.

April 3, 2012 at 8:34 am | Posted in And I ran (I ran so far away), Infertility, IVF #6: Maybe This Will Be Different. Or Not. | 12 Comments

Today I went to New Clinic for my day 3 labs.

My favorite running song by Linkin Park has a line that I can’t get out of my head right now.

The hardest part of ending is starting again.

I had a dream a few nights ago that I had a baby. Someone handed him to me and said, He’s hungry.

And with some disbelief, I realized that my breasts were full. And so I started nursing my baby. It was SO vivid; I FELT the prickly ache of letdown. Except I didn’t really believe that it was my baby. My heart was full with love and ache and longing.

I woke up to the heaviest day of AF. And it took me a good 8 mile run with a friend to erase the sadness I felt when I woke up.

I sort of feel that way about cycling again.

Sadness, resignation, longing, ache. I don’t have a lot of hope that one cycle with New Clinic will actually work. I wish I could go back to the days where I believed every embryo made a baby.

But I do have hope. Because otherwise I wouldn’t even consider another cycle.

Last week my best friend had her NT scan. On the way to her house that day, I could barely breathe with the hope that everything was okay. I exhaled in relief when she confirmed that everything was ok. And when we were discussing how she was going to tell her daughter, I asked if the u/s pictures were sufficiently baby-like to show to C.

She waved at the pictures and said she wasn’t sure, I could look if I wanted.

Seeing the pictures of her baby – unmistakably a baby – hit me with a physical blow. She has a baby in there.

And the feeling was overwhelming. It was like something deep inside me was screaming, I WANT THAT!

So really, this beginning again means I again am inhabiting a place between hope and fear. As the phlebotomist drew blood today, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

She asked me if I was okay, or if I was feeling lightheaded.

I wanted to tell her about all the other blood draws I have done. The negative betas, the cycles where I was bruised and the best of my clinic’s phlebotomists had a hard time finding my vein. How much I really don’t want to cycle again, how scared I am that I will never be okay until I have another baby in my arms, how much I want to be done with draws and doctors and Fail and heartbreak. I wanted to tell her about Lucky, how scared I was when I was pregnant with him and how I have never felt such a depth of love for any other person in the world. I wanted to tell her about my dream, how much my arms ache when I see pictures of babies. How my heart constricts whenever I see a birth or pregnancy announcement on Facebook. How much it hurts to listen to people take for granted the ability to plan for their family.

I didn’t, though. All I said was, I’m okay.

The hardest part of ending is starting again.

But here we are, at the beginning.

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12 Comments »

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  1. “The hardest part of ending is starting again” what a powerful thing you said…. Good luck my friend, may your dream become true!

  2. That line is really resonating with me, too.

    You are so brave. I wish so much for you that this new start will provide the ending you want.

    xoxo
    T.

  3. wow – deep breaths – and one day at a time.
    How a blood draw can be so heavily weighted with the past.

  4. How scary to be starting this again. And yet I’m glad to hear that you do have some hope, that you have some thoughts that it might work. I really, really want this to work for you. I will be thinking of you and hoping for the best.

  5. THINKING OF YOU!! Saying LOTS of prayers for you, you deserve this SO MUCH!!

  6. Sister, you know that we have shared a similar emotional path to #2, to possibly coming to terms with being a family of 3, to the deep longing and desire to mother another that doesn’t go away with time. I wrote a similar post over a year ago that echoed the “I want that” feeling. It is primal. It drives us to do things we would otherwise desire not to.

    As I face what will likely be our last ART ever, with our remaining precious three donated embryos, I try to talk to myself about what I will do, what we will do, if it doesn’t work. What does one do when they reach the literal end of the road? Some times I think I will be OK and most times I know that there will be a deep chasm that I will need to find a way to heal.

    Abiding with you.

  7. I hope that this is your final beginning. Sending love and luck your way. ❤

  8. Thinking of you along the way! Hoping this is IT.

  9. […] when I read Serenity’s post, Beginning Again, not only am I cheering her on in her quest for #2, but I commiserate with being caught between […]

  10. Thinking of you and wishing you all the best. Love the line about the ending and the beginning.

  11. Wishing you a new beginning of a different kind…

  12. God this post just made me want to cry. To not want to do something and face it all again so much it hurts…but at the same time to want the positive outcome so badly it haunts you. Just breathe. One day at a time. And let little O distract you. Try not to think of the if’s.


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