I keep trying to sit down to write an update on this experience, but it’s hard to know how to write about it without sounding terribly sad. That’s been my excuse for not writing, but not writing isn’t helping me to feel any better and even if no one on earth sees this but me, it’s good to get it out.

It’s been two years this month since we started trying and more than a year since we began the fertility treatment process and we obviously don’t yet have a baby nor do we have an ongoing pregnancy or answers as to whether we will be able to.

Right now we’re taking another hopefully brief break after our second failed IVF.

If you’re keeping count, the first one worked and then I had a miscarriage. The second and third failed.

Now we’re faced with a decision – run more tests to try to get some answers, proceed with our last embryo and hope for the best or move on to another method.

I would say right now most of my energy is spent on trying to stay positive and I probably fail at that at least 50% of the time. Russ might say I fail at it more than that. Luckily, he almost always makes up the difference.

At my best, I am fully aware that Russ and I are very lucky to have each other and we still have time to figure this all out – I’m reminded often by my doctor that 31 is not old in the world of fertility treatments and certainly not in the world of adoption.

At my worst, I’m incredibly lonely, I can’t make myself care about anything I should care about and I feel like nobody understands what I’m going through emotionally and physically.

And I worry.

I worry that it won’t work out and that we won’t ever have a family. I worry that no one would choose us to be the adoptive parents of their child. I worry that all of our friends with children will move deeper into that stage of life and we’ll be left behind. And I worry that all of these worries will eventually be too much for Russ to help me juggle, though that one feels silly to even write.

I’d love to say that I’m moving through all of this gracefully and feeling confident that it will work out, but, in the interest of honesty, I’m often not.

I’d love to tie this up in a neat little upbeat bow, but I’m going to just leave it right here in all its honest glory and hope tomorrow feels a bit more positive.

 

4 thoughts on “

  1. I know exactly what you are going through. I went through the process for 3 years before I had success. I was not a candidate for IVF I had a process called G.I.F.T. On the program. I know it is so hard to stay positive but I was determined that God was going to allow me to have a baby. So I gave it to him and told him if He didn’t that I would be sad but I would know it was not meant for me. Hey I even told Him things He knew like people all the time mistreat them kill them and here I am ready to just love one so much. So don’t loose hope Elizabeth. I will continue to pray for you and Russ.

    Like

  2. I sit here and cry, cry for you and Russ, cry for mike and me and for your parents😩😩😩 I only hope we can take some of your sadness away this coming weekend💗💗💗

    Like

Tell me what you think...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s