The Ongoing Grief of Infertility

It’s been a year since I decided to stop doing fertility treatments. It’s been a year since I chose to accept that my rainbow baby was not going to come, that my TAC would provide me with nothing more than peace of mind, and that my fertility journey post TAC was a blessing in that it allowed us to find and treat my endometrial hyperplasia.

So much good has happened since stopping fertility treatments and I do not regret that decision for the world.

Getting daily injections, struggling with the physical, mental, and emotional changes, the lack of focus, the discomfort of ultrasounds and bloodwork every 2-3 days, not sleeping… It was wrecking me in so many ways. I needed to stop. I know that I don’t have it in me to walk that path again. I had my three strikes, I am out of that game.

But if I am completely honest with myself and completely honest with you, I still had hope. I still had the want and the desire for a living child that Malcolm and I could raise to adulthood, who would survive us and be our source of immortality in this mortal world… I honestly thought that we would be one of those couples that end up being the anecdotes people tell couples just starting their fertility journeys… “You know Annie and Malcolm? They struggled for six years, two losses, countless surgeries, pre-cancer… and almost as soon as they stopped trying they had a baby all on their own without any intervention! Isn’t that amazing? Don’t give up hope…”

My faith has been torn to shreds since losing Lily and Anika. I don’t know if God is there, and if God is there I don’t know if I want to be friends with a being who would let me go through all of this… But still, almost nightly I have prayed for a miracle. I have prayed that God would give Malcolm and me a healthy baby naturally, that we can raise to adulthood, and that if that was not possible that God would take away my longing.

Well, it’s been a year. I haven’t gotten rid of the homecoming outfit I bought for the baby that will never come home. I haven’t gotten rid of the first stuffy, or the partially completed baby blankets. And that longing is still there. Almost every day.

But I’m turning 38 this summer. I decided long ago that 35 was my cutoff age for having kids, I pushed that to 37 because of my losses and all the complications and surgeries. And at this point I am pretty set in my ways. I like going to bed when I want to and waking up when I feel like it. I like going on dates with my hubby and not having to worry about a sitter. I like going on trips and getting to see the world! But that longing is still there. I watch my nieces and nephews and my two grand nephews grow and change and I want to see my child do that. I want to hear my child laugh and cry, I want to teach my child things and get into arguments about whatever. I want the spilled milk, the messes, the homemade cards and presents. I want to hear “mom” and know they mean me.

And I hear those stories in my mind of the couples who tried for years, and finally accepted that they were not going to be visible parents and then, suddenly there’s their miracle! And I wonder why them and not me?

I love my life. I love my husband and our crazy puppy. I am excited to start our new chapter as homeowners. I love our freedom. I love how much love is in our home with our little family. I love that we get to watch our nieces and nephews and grand nephews grow. I do have a rainbow life. I do not regret the decisions I have made. They have helped me to be helped by and help many others going through similar experiences and that carries a value greater than I can express.

And at night I will continue to talk to the unknown and ask to either get my miracle or have this longing taken away. If you feel so inclined, you can do the same.

3 thoughts on “The Ongoing Grief of Infertility

    • Wow. Thank you. It means a lot to me to see that my journey is helping other people. I am doing well and I will write more about where I’n at as soon as my semester is over.

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