Can this be it? Are we really not suppose to have kids? This process has shaken me to my core. I feel defeated. This time I know how cruel IVF can be. It’s no distant stranger. I’m not in shock, I’m just worn and hurt. Who would have guessed we would be sitting here.
I was so naive and I took so much for granted. I thought the hard part would be finding someone I wanted to live my life with. Mike is home, I’m certain of him. He keeps me safe.
But now I want that magical feeling of cuddling a cute baby on the couch. It’s funny, I am not a "couch" person. I’m not even a "house" person. I’m a "lets go somewhere" kind of person. But babies are fun to sit on the couch with. I’ve loved having my nephew here and as much as I loved taking him places, he taught me that the couch is a playground of it's own.
These have been my first few days without him since he moved up to Northern California. We packed up his dishes, clothes, toys, books...everything. I’m mourning our life with him. Suddenly without notice, my whole family moved while I was in Europe. And now we are mourning our IVF dreams as well.
Today is not my favorite day.
And yet still I can’t give up. Sometimes it scares me. Maybe all of these signs are saying give up and yet, I can’t. Not yet anyway. I still imagine that picture of little Mike in the bathtub as a kid. The image that changed all my beliefs. I want a child with Mike. I’m still so open to what that will look like in the world of IVF, surrogacy, or adoption.
First, I need to see what grieving will look like this time. Even in my heartbroken, defeated state, I know that we will get up again. Despite this being one of the worst, saddest days ever, I refuse to imagine our lives without a kid to love. Often I really wish I could.
To our friends and family: we are beyond grateful for all of the love and support we have received. We never would have been strong enough to try this again without you. Thank you to the ends of the earth.