When I was young, maybe 6 or 7, I fell on the playground and landed on my back. It was the first time I got the wind knocked out of me and I still remember that feeling of gasping for breath, knowing it was there, but unable to feel the relief.
It’s hard to comprehend the peace and confidence I felt through our recent IVF cycle now that we are facing the reality of it’s failure. I find myself thinking how naive I was to think it would just be easy this time…pop a few pills, let Dr. K work his magic… I mean it worked the first time obviously it will work this time (insert palm to forehead emoji)
But in all honesty, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be pregnant right now. I truly thought and felt with confidence and peace, that this was going to work. I mean of course I knew that there was a chance it wouldn’t, but that never felt like a real possibility.
We took a spur of the moment “let’s escape reality” trip to Disney this past weekend. It was good for us to be together and away, but as the weekend went on, the shock of it all started to wear off and even the happiest place on earth couldn’t keep my heart from aching.
I sat at work on Monday plotting out my college workshop program for the spring and as I flipped the calendar page into April it was like the “L” reached out and punched me in the gut. I’m not supposed to be at work in April. I’m supposed to be at home, loving on a newborn and adjusting to life with two. I know that kind of sucker-punch will continue as we move through the year and face all the things I had planned to be pregnant or have a newborn for. I find myself praying, with absolute admiration, for the women who carried children much longer than I did and lost them, who face would-be birthdays and holidays and small moments in time and have to cope with the fact that their child isn’t here with them. I’m sure the longer a baby is carried, the harder the loss is. That doesn’t diminish our loss, but it gives me some perspective, too. One in four women will experience pregnancy loss. That’s a lot of us. That’s a lot of strong freaking women.
The more I read about HCG levels in IVF and chemical pregnancies and implantation, etc…the more I realize how true it is when we call Austin our miracle baby. You don’t often see a successful pregnancy with numbers that started as low as his did. I’m not sure what it means for us that both our embryos started with low numbers. One made it and one didn’t…so many questions with so few answers. That’s the way it is with infertility… a lot of unanswered questions.
People keep asking what our next steps are. I honestly don’t know. We will absolutely try again, but our failed cycle has knocked the wind out of me. What I thought I knew has shifted and I’m just trying to catch my breath. On some days it feels like my defenses are up and I am building walls so I don’t get hurt again. On other days it feels like I am just taking a moment of silence to sit with God and really feel my way through this, allowing all the things to flow through me while God holds me by my right hand as he has promised. I fight for those days, through my sadness; I fight to hold on to God even when I don’t really want to, even when I’m angry with him, even when I can’t see him clearly. I fight because he has always fought for me.
I learned on that playground long ago that if you fight hard enough, gasp long enough, the air will once again fill your lungs and you will return to the jungle gym ready to swing on the monkey bars again. I’ll get there. We will get there.
