This whole third round of our FET has been one of the most extreme roller coasters I have ever been on. We would have extreme great news followed by devastating news. I felt constantly worn down and at the end of what I could take but then somehow I would muster up excitement and hope for our next blood draw/ultrasound/medication.
I sit here now feeling lost. Feeling like I don't know which way is up, like I am suffocating from all of the hopes and dreams that are now gone. Although this little baby was only with us for a few weeks it was our baby, it was loved. There are many questions I have, many questions that will go unanswered until someday when I too go to heaven. I will never know if our baby was a boy or a girl, I will never know why this little one was taken from us, I wont know what this little one would have done in life, what sports it would have played, what our life would have been like as a family of four with this little one completing us.
There are so many other women that go through this terrible thing of losing a baby, no matter at what stage of the baby's life the thing that connects us all is the grief. The hopes and the dreams we had for our children that were taken away. I don't want to keep my grief and my baby quiet and from the world, because even though baby was only with us for a short while it was my baby... My baby mattered. I had always thought of blogging or journal about our infertility journey not so much to share with the world but as a way for me to process everything, and to have a long standing journal that I can look back on someday when I am a infertility survivor.
I find myself thinking of how my life is now changed and altered, I cry over the things that I shouldn't be allowed to do. I cry when I drink a beer now, or have a cup of coffee, I cry when I think of traveling to a friends wedding minus my growing bump that I was excited for. I cry when I don't get to take my estrogen and progesterone... I cry over not getting a shot in my butt every night. I cry when I see the beautiful picture on my fridge of my 5 day embryo, I cry when I see the I'm a Big Brother book that we gave to Jackson. I know that as the days go on these things wont make me feel as sad, I wont have the guilt when I drink my cup of coffee or have a glass of wine, but for now I feel sad.
I find myself staring off frequently, just lost within my own mind thinking of what the last 8 weeks have brought us. I loved this baby, I planned for this baby, I prayed for this baby and now my baby is in a different place not with me but with Jesus. I am thankful that my baby is in such a beautiful place where there is no pain, there is no darkness and that love and light are all around him/her, but I am mad that I don't get to have my baby with me. Someday I will rock my baby, and hold and kiss it until then I will have to remember what I can about our short time together.
After we found out that we had lost the baby I knew that our best option for myself was to have D&C, but I found myself wanting to push it off. I felt torn, part of me was sickened by the thought of having my dead baby inside of my womb, but then a large part of me felt protective. I didn't want surgery to come and separate us. I held my tummy, talking to it, praying for it that knew our love, and that I would forever be its mommy. I now feel hallow, I feel like my body betrayed me. I feel broken. My mind, body and spirit are in shambles and I need time.
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