I started this blog, two years ago today, as a place to sort out how I was feeling after undergoing 5 additional own-egg IVFs, one DE cycle, and one DEFET, in pursuit of the 2nd child we are still trying to have. It was a dark, emotionally tangled time. Rarely, has this blog been directly about infertility, as in cycling in the PRESENT tense. There was some talk, early on, as to what other options were available to us to complete our family, but once we committed to domestic adoption, I never looked back. Never. I came to terms with my infertility in a way that didn’t include another pregnancy. I have been on a completely alternate path; myopic, even.
That is what I meant by about-face in my last post. It just feels like I’ve done a complete 180 and I feel somewhat guilty about that (anyone who knows me, knows I don’t do guilt, which is really saying something about how I am feeling). This space has never been about my own active ART and it just feels odd to me to even be writing about it here. I can imagine that those who have been reading for some time or came here because I am an Open Adoption Blogger, may be conflicted and/or choose not to continue reading. I do not blame you. IF and ART do not always go hand in hand with adoption and vice versa. And, I am well aware that personal pregnancy news on a blog previously dedicated to domestic adoption can be a painful/sensitive topic.
I am doing my very best to keep true to the intention for this space that I set forth two years ago, “My place to vent, rant, share, and chart my course”. Our continued and fervent desire to complete our family with a second child has, for better or worse, led us right back to the beginning. A true and never anticipated full-circle moment. I, however, am not the same person who last cycled 2 1/2 years ago. I am an older, wiser, more settled and much more circumspect woman. I am a mother with 5 years of practical experience. I am a proponent of adoption and an adult adoptee. I am a advocate for women’s infertility treatment rights and choices. And, I am infertile and it is because of this that, at nearly forty-six years old, I am turning to donated embryos in the hopes of completing our family.
Can I muster even an ounce of hope that one way or another, adoption or donated embryos, we will finally get where we have been trying to go for 4 1/2 years? Hell, I went to my first consult with my RE when I was 38. Eight years ago. EIGHT! Nothing, save the loss of my brother, has tested and shaped me like my struggle with infertility, journey to motherhood, and dogged perseverance to have a second child.
I am filled with fear. Not the debilitating, can’t get out of bed or put one foot in front of the other kind of fear, but the wake me up and keep me up at night kind of fear that dances at the edges of my conscious mind. Should I even be tempting fate in this way? Is it even possible for me to get, much less, sustain a pregnancy? Knowing what I know about my incompetent cervix and now that we are with an HMO, can I advocate for my care in a way that will give a pregnancy a fighting chance? Am I capable of being a vertical pregnant woman, having been restricted to bed rest for 21 weeks of my pregnancy with my son? Will some life threatening pregnancy complication befall me for even doing this? I am scared to be pregnant again. But I see no other choice but to try.
What is it about IF that makes me feel predisposed to all manner of tragic outcome? It is not simply that I am a forty-five year old woman endeavoring to be pregnant. It is the lengths that I have gone to in my endeavors. Why do I feel that, just because of that, there is some sinister price to be paid? I am just a woman, who is also a mother, who wants to have another child. The fact that I am infertile and that that has caused me to travel unconventional paths, should not also mean that I am somehow undeserving and thereby tempting fate. Nonetheless, that is how it feels.
I try to see the universe as benevolent. I try to believe that I have come to this path because I was supposed to come here. I feel mostly settled and definitely grateful to even have this opportunity. Another shot to carry our next child. God, just typing that makes me cry. I want so badly to turn the page on this chapter and begin the next as a mother of two, family of four. Means to a happy end, please universe, means to a happy end.
“It’s the action, not the fruit of the action, that’s important. You have to do the right thing.
It may not be in your power, may not be in your time, that there will be any fruit.
But that doesn’t mean you stop doing the right thing.
You may never know what results come from your action.
But if you do nothing, there will be no result.”