Freedom from hope

12 Aug

I’ve noticed a subtle yet significant shift in my outlook since this last cycle failed.

Let me make some things clear before I go into this. I definitely want to keep trying. I definitely want to try transferring all seven of our waiting embryos (in batches of course) to my uterus to see what sticks. I’ll probably even want to pursue more fresh cycles after that if we can, whether it’s right away or after a break.


My hope, my faith, my expectation, that we will be parents, has all but vanished. I see children out in public, and where they used to always remind me of my own eventual children, that door is shutting. Now my mind says, that’s nice. For them. That’s nice for them. That’s never going to be you. But that’s nice for them.

I no longer have this lingering assumption that a pregnancy is surely right around the corner. I’m realistically looking ahead and seeing years of childlessness. And maybe it’s just because we’ve been doing assisted cycles for the past few months, really all year, but I’m enjoying not trying right now. I’m enjoying exercising, and having sex, and eating, and even dieting, and planning upcoming travel, and really just LIVING, not feeling trapped in the prison of living to be pregnant. It’s temporarily clouding my vision and making me think, hey, this isn’t so bad.

And sometimes I think, it really wouldn’t be. I could have my body back. I could have my mind back. My husband and I could have a life back that vanished with our first miscarriage. A carefree, more active life. We used to DO so much more. And not that we sit at home all the time now, but we DO far less. Friday night, we went out to dinner and both ordered mai tais, which remind us of our wonderful Hawaiian honeymoon. And after an articulate toast (“Fuck infertility!”), we both reminisced back to those days under the Pacific sun. What fun we had, before all this shit went down.

We’d have more money. No diapers. No whining, screaming, temper tantrums. No potty training. No daycare costs. A nicely decorated guest room. Time and freedom to travel, take day trips and weekend trips with very little planning. Would I trade all of this for even a short time with just ONE child of our own? In half a heartbeat. But the thing is, we can’t have children.

Not normally, at least. Not like other people can. Not without a whole mess of drugs, and doctors, and ultrasounds, and blood draws, needles, and not to mention, a freaking miracle because our embryos are just plain abnormal. WHY. Why is that? Why when my stuff and his stuff combine, why do they make genetically fucked up embryos? I’m sorry, I just don’t get that.

So it’s a long shot, and it’s always going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. I’m not saying we won’t find it, I’m not saying we can’t get lucky, but we really, legitimately might never find that needle. I have to internalize that, and embrace it, because it’s a fact.

There’s some freedom though, in accepting this. It feels like a question I have been shouting into the universe for years has finally been answered. I can rest now, knowing we might never get pregnant, we might never be parents, but somehow, SOMEHOW, we will be okay. Because we can face our worst fears, the ugliest hell imaginable, and come out alive. The sun keeps rising and we still LOVE each other.

Amor vincit omnia. Love conquers all. It’s kind of our motto. It’s inscribed onto his wedding band and tattooed on my arm in his handwriting.

But one question remains for me. Why keep going? Why stay on the roller coaster at all? If you can spot the light on the other side?

First off, those seven embryos. Those are ours and we love them and they deserve a shot. Second, there’s still options left to try. But beyond that? I’m just not ready to quit. My hope has all but gone but there is still a small sliver there… I think. There MUST be, otherwise I can’t understand why I want to go forward still. Maybe it’s just that sick, cruel drive we all have to procreate, even when the world is telling us that won’t be possible. I don’t really want to keep running into the wall. Keep bruising myself, keep bursting and bleeding, when every sign points to stop. Points to, you’re done. This won’t work.

I don’t want to be that person who keeps blindly pushing on, even at the expense of their own body, their own relationships, their own life.

But if I’m going to give up the fight, I have to know that I did EVERYTHING I could. Otherwise, I’ll never know peace. I have to shine the light into every dark corner, leave no stone unturned. I have to give until there’s nothing left, and there’s still something left.  So while I have no hope for these FETs, I’m going to do them.

After all, the only way out is through.


20 Responses to “Freedom from hope”

  1. Cristy August 12, 2012 at 8:39 pm #

    Beautifully written!! And everything I’m trying to strive for too. Thank you for such an honest post. I have nothing but faith that whatever the road ahead holds, you and DH will live a beautiful and fulfilled life.

  2. cassiedash August 12, 2012 at 10:59 pm #

    You’re fighting a good fight. Even if the end is not what you hoped for (God forbid), knowing that you did everything you possibly could will hopefully give you some peace. And to still have a love that conquers all after everything you’ve gone through — that’s no small feat. You should be proud. Proud of your strength and the strength of your love. I’m still hoping for you, though. Hoping and praying. ~ hugs ~

  3. Alicia August 12, 2012 at 11:06 pm #

    Great post. Your words echo my own thoughts. Hugs.

  4. Katie August 13, 2012 at 12:21 am #

    So beautiful and true. After another miscarriage people this weekend told me maybe I should just let it go. I should have them read this…

  5. road2ourbaby August 13, 2012 at 12:58 am #

    What a great post. I find myself thinking a lot of the same thoughts. I’m only in the beginning of IVF, and I can’t help but think there is a chance this might not work for us. For now though, I have to try.

  6. dopingforbaby August 13, 2012 at 2:01 am #

    This is such a beautiful post. I have had so many of the same thoughts, and have surely lost much of the hope of a pregnancy I once had. The struggle now comes in how to move forward and how to do so knowing you have done what feels most right and complete for you. The last line is awesome. And so true. I will remind myself of this daily. Thanks.

  7. idioticinfertility August 13, 2012 at 2:23 am #

    Wow. Thanks for writing this. I have begun thinking and wondering the same things.

  8. eighteenyears August 13, 2012 at 10:36 am #

    I think you’ve written a post that all of us have inside of us eventually. Thank you.

  9. MrsTypeA August 13, 2012 at 2:37 pm #

    Totally makes sense – we can only put your bodies (and minds) through so much!! It’s so tough and I think most people don’t even begin to understand. *HUGS*

  10. sams August 13, 2012 at 4:21 pm #

    It’s like you were in my head when you wrote this. This is exactly how I feel and what I think. I feel like IVF will never work for us but I can’t give up until I’ve tried everything I can. I’m on a month of BCPs right now before our first FET in September. It’s so nice having my body back, except for the BCPs but that’s minor compared to the IVF drugs. So for now, I’m staying on the IVF path.

    Sending *hugs* to you along your journey.

  11. taradawes August 13, 2012 at 8:49 pm #

    Amazing post – I honestly think you have the best attitude about all of it. Best of luck!

  12. infertilitydoessuck August 14, 2012 at 3:39 pm #

    great post!!!

  13. Aplatanada August 14, 2012 at 8:10 pm #

    Lovely post, Shelley. It’s a painful fight, but you are tough and will be victorious, in one way or another.

  14. What an amazing post. Hugs.

  15. Theresa August 15, 2012 at 1:33 am #

    I totally get this.

  16. sass August 15, 2012 at 10:25 am #

    I really love this post. You’ll keep on living life, doing your best, and finding happiness again. And being prepared for what might come doesn’t mean that we can’t keep our fingers crossed for each of those FETs.

  17. Joanna August 15, 2012 at 7:25 pm #

    A truly, achingly honest yet beautiful post. I know others have said it, but you truly echo the hope, dreams, wishes, and fears of all of us. It’s times like these when I wish a virtual hug could convey all of the love, support, sympathy and understanding I have for you friend. It’s a horrible ride, but it gives you strength you thought you never had and reminds of you what and who is important. Much love and big hugs to you as you continue your fight, you are not alone. Thinking of you Shelley.

  18. Emily @ablanket2keep August 16, 2012 at 1:37 am #

    Beautiful post. I’m glad you are doing things you enjoy. Even though you may only have a little sliver of home I will be keeping up so much hope your your 7 embryos!


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