Sitting in our living room with the twinkle of Christmas tree lights, that I can see out of the corner of my eye, has been a constant reminder of what we still don’t have. The lights of the tree shine so bright, while inside I feel so dull. Keeping my cool gets pretty difficult thsi time of year when Facebook is plastered in kid pictures. As each holiday season passes, year after year, it’s gotten harder and harder to enjoy it. Years of infertility treatments has yet to “produce” what we have been dreaming of.
My husband & I have been struggling this holiday season. We put the tree up and it took us weeks to even put ornaments on it. We questioned even putting them on at all. I wish like hell all the presents wrapped under the tree were for our children. I wish I could take them to get pictures taken with Santa. I wish we could bake cut out cookies and leave them out with milk for Santa on Christmas Eve. I wish we could wake up Christmas morning with our children and see the excitement in their faces when they look under the tree. But yet, another year will pass where we are just a family of two.
We miscarried our fourth child a few weeks ago. The sting and heartbreak is still in full force. While we pretty much knew which direction this pregnancy was headed after our first beta, it’s still something you can never prepare for. I lost nearly 50 pounds prior to transfer, my lining was at 11, my NK cells were at 19, I had an infusion a week before transfer – everything was practically textbook perfect. Why can my body not do what it is supposed to do? I’ve never felt like more of a failure.
We have had so many family, friends, and strangers reach out to us with kind words, prayers, and encouragement that it’s been overwhelming. I’ve had a few friends send thoughtful gifts (thank you so much Lindsay, Justine, & Kolby) and cards that have made my day. Thank you is not enough but right now, it’s all I can offer. The fact that you all have acknowledged what we are going through means more to me than you’ll ever know. We have some immediate family that still have yet to acknowledge our infertility journey at all and it’s heartbreaking for us…and it really, really hurts.
It’s been just over two years since I made the decision to go public about our infertility journey. I can say that I, 100%, never ever thought I’d still be on this journey four years later. I thought one cycle of IVF and we will have our miracle baby. Wrong. Eight IVF cycles and seven embryo transfers later, and here we are. Our spare room, meant to be a nursery, is filled with baby bags, onesies, and cloth diapers – all hopes that we would someday have a child. Maybe it’s time we sell those things or give them away. I’ll never regret being open about our struggles. The amount of messages I get weekly on social media from women also struggling with infertility, telling me I’m an inspiration to them & thanking me for my courage and strength to go public is what keeps me going when I feel like I can’t go anymore.
My RE called me yesterday to see how I was doing and I thought it was incredibly thoughtful. All I could tell her was that I was ok. It’s what I tell everyone. Is it the truth? Absolutely not. I’m not ok. Not even close. We are going on four years of wanting a baby and yet, we can’t have a baby. I feel empty inside. Like life was just sucked right out of me.
We were dead set on surrogacy if this transfer didn’t work. However, at our second beta appointment, our nurse informed us of some changes to our insurance policy that gave us a lot to think about.
Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, for all the love, prayers, support, and words of encouragement. Please keep those struggling with infertility in your hearts this holiday season as it is an extremely tough time for us. Love to you all.