Sometimes I have what seems like a hundred ideas for blog posts floating around in my head, but when I find a spare minute to write some of those thoughts down, I can’t find the right words.
This topic has been weighing on my heart and my mind for some time now. I thought that maybe writing it all out would help lessen the blow.
I’m truly thankful for moving along in the adoption process and I’m looking forward to finally becoming a mother to a special and amazing little boy or girl in this way; however, I find myself dealing with anger issues surrounding my infertility.
We know what my underlying issues are: PCOS, LPD, hypothyroidism. I take medicines to balance my hormones and keep everything in check. I followed my doctor’s instructions perfectly. We cycled and cycled and cycled some more. Our embryos were of the highest grade during IVF. We had an almost 100% fertilization rate. We did all the shots to help support a pregnancy. We endured the pain in every form. We got to beta day countless times and were disappointed each and every time. My nurse had to break the news for years that our babies decided not to stick around and that she was so sorry. We listened to our RE offer up possible reasons for our constant failures. We were told to try again. We were told that another cycle may work. We were also told that it may not.
So here is the question that I’ve been asking myself over and over again for the past two months – Is it better to know why I’m not getting/staying pregnant or is it better to live in the dark so to speak? It’s hard to hear over and over again that the reason for our miscarriages and lack of success with IUI, IVF, and FET is unexplained. Maybe that’s why I’m so angry – because there’s no logical and obvious reason why I’m not holding a baby in my arms today. Again I ask – “Where is that crystal ball with all the answers?”
Honestly, even if I did know what the true underlying problem was, I’m not quite sure that I would feel a sense of relief. A sense of finality. I’m not sure that the feelings of wanting to feel my baby kick and move from inside me will ever truly go away. I know that with time these emotions will start to subside and not always be at the forefront of my heart and mind.
I hope that one day I feel at peace with our decision to stop trying to conceive a biological child. I know my heart has room to love an adopted child. I know this because there’s room in there to love children of friends, love students I’ve taught in the past, and love others in general. However, I do think there will always be a small space in my heart that can never be filled. There will always be a space for that child made up of our DNA who lives only in my mind and in my dreams.