I know you all deserve an update on our fertility journey. You’ve been so supportive. Thank you for all the texts, cards and private messages. They’ve meant so much. I especially loved the message from a friend who vented about all the irritating and unfair things in the world of infertility … honestly, your vent session was one of my favorite messages because it allowed me to laugh, cry and also vent a little about the unfairness of it all too. Life isn’t fair. And while we are suppose to just accept that fact as adults, sometimes it just feels good to express irritation at it! Ha. You know who you are and I appreciate you. 🙂
At this point, we’ve decided NOT to pursue another round of IVF. And in plain and simple terms, that means the likely-hood that we will have a child of our own genetics is pretty slim. Less than 1%. It was 1% before they really even got into it and now that they know what our bodies are doing/not doing, it’s way, way less than 1%. Which means what, anyway? Half a percent? A third? ZERO? Geesh. Major frown face when I typed that.
It’s not zero, we know that, but that’s mostly all we know. If we conceive a child, it’ll be a miracle baby. Which would be amazing, and I do believe you should never completely lose hope! That being said, there’s some very real grieving going on over here – which is exactly why I’ve hesitated to write anything. I’ve wanted to process all that is happening in my heart before expressing any of it to the public. I don’t want my post to be too sad. I don’t want you to feel sorry for us. I don’t want you to think I’ve lost faith and am mired in hopelessness. But I also strive to always be really real with y’all and so I decided it was time to talk.
When you’re crazy in love with someone, when they’re your best friend and counterpart in every way – you just might naturally want to create a life with them. Dave is the most incredible person I’ve ever known. He’s the hardest working, and the most honest and sincere person you’re likely to meet. He’s also all the things I’m not – steady and consistent, analytical and patient. He’s got eyes the color of a summer blue sky – and from the moment I knew we were in love, I wanted a baby with those same eyes and that fiercely loyal heart. To find out there’s a strong possibility I won’t get to have that, has been a real blow. I’ve imagined that little baby so many times, that it feels like someone has died when I think of never knowing that sweet soul.
I think this is the most difficult part of infertility because you’re grieving a life that never was/will be. I feel guilty to be grieving in this way when there are actual people alive with real problems. People who are dying. People who have had a child and lost it. People who are alone, homeless, starving, etc. I have so, so many blessings that it feels so wrong for me to be this deeply sad right now over someone I’ve never met, only dreamed about. But there it is anyway, I’m feeling it.
I hesitate to even write about it because it feels selfish of me to be this sad. A good friend told me the other day that I’m entitled to feel what I feel. I’m allowed to be sad while I process this whole thing. I’m allowed to spontaneously cry whenever I feel like it right now. I also hesitate to write about this because I don’t want people to think I don’t like them or their babies. I love you all and your sweet babies. I’m happy for you and excited to watch them grow up. Don’t be scared to talk about them or pregnancy in front of me. The week we found out our IVF had failed and we weren’t great candidates for a second round, I went to visit my baby niece and see my sweet cousin’s newborn. Dave was pretty nervous for me and questioned whether it was the right move that morning. But to be honest, it felt so good to go see those babies and know that I love them and their parents. I felt nothing but joy and love around them. But there is a very real possibility that in the near future, I will still cry at random times when I see a pregnancy announcement. Or cry when those perfect newborn pics stare back at me from facebook. It doesn’t mean I’m not happy for my friends, it just means there’s an unfulfilled part of my life that still hurts a little right now. I’m sad for me, and I’m sad for Dave.
Speaking of IVF. Let’s talk about that. I was actually prepared for it to fail. Many, many people do multiple rounds for various reasons, but mostly because they don’t get enough eggs each time. I was prepared to possibly have to do it again and have it fail. I was not, however, prepared to hear the reasons why it failed and that they didn’t think it necessarily made sense for us to keep doing it. Our doctor didn’t say we absolutely couldn’t. He offered some steps and solutions to our issues that give it a better chance of success than the first round. But he absolutely said to us, (like I mentioned before) “For some people it makes sense to do multiple rounds of IVF, for others it doesn’t….” We could read between the lines.
It’s super tempting to try again. But from the moment he made that comment to me, I felt my heart go another direction. I just kept hearing the words “irresponsible” in my mind over and over again when I’d think of doing another round of IVF for us. The full weight of what that means to me, is that it feels irresponsible to try IVF again for Dave and I when the success prognosis for us is lower – there are other babies out there that need a home. The cost for us to do IVF again would be close to what it costs to adopt. We just couldn’t spend that sum again with little hope of success when we could spend that same money and bring home a sweet child that needs us. At least that has been what’s on my heart.
Life is moving along. I’m doing my best to fully process this grief but to have balance and move forward. I won’t let it drag me down – and I don’t feel that it is. I feel hope for the future. When we feel ready, we will likely pursue adoption. You know I have two beautiful adopted sisters from Guatemala that I love so, so dearly! Adoption is a beautiful and wonderful and I am excited for that chapter of life, when we decide to start that process.
Thanks again for all your support throughout this time. Writing about it all has helped me process and sort out my feelings. I appreciate your comments and have felt your love. I look forward to blogging about more cheerful things in the near future. Despite the challenges, life is still beautiful and I’m grateful.
Love,
Stacey