The question of the month from many people who I have told about the miscarriage has been, “Are you going to try again?” Sometimes it’s “When are you going to try again?” Recently my mother decided that she was going to give me some money from the sale of my late grandfather’s house and I was asked if it was enough money for a fresh IVF cycle (not even close).
I know everyone means well. And I haven’t spent a lot of time talking about what this FET was for us, for me. When we did our IVF in 2005 we had 12 eggs retrieved. 9 fertilized. 4 made it to freeze. We transferred 2, and those 2 are now asleep in their beds upstairs. When we did our FET, we thawed 4 embryos, one didn’t survive the thaw, and we transferred 3.
Which leaves us with…
This FET was it. By choice. No questions left at the end as to whether or not we would try again. If it didn’t work, we move forward, if it worked, fantastic. But just like I hadn’t prepared for bringing home one of our twins from the hospital while leaving the other in the NICU, I hadn’t prepared for the in-between reality of getting pregnant only to miscarry.
Our donor is currently inactive. We aren’t prepared to pay for or save for a fresh IVF cycle. And even if we were, I have a hard time contemplating taking thousands of dollars of money away from the two children we have who have dance and basketball and clothes and school and college and whatever else to save for.
I hemorrhaged in delivery when the twins were born. Nobody can tell us really why. We were comfortable with the fact that my OB was prepared with this knowledge and had my medical records from when the twins were born so that we could get in front of any issue that might arise in delivery if we got pregnant on our FET. I was scared, but had faith in my doctor.
Two days ago the sister of a good friend of ours had a heart attack. She is 27 years old, and she had a c-section delivering a baby as the surrogate mother for a gay couple just a little more than a week before. The doctors believe her heart attack is pregnancy related.
And I realized, once I actually sat and internalized what had happened to this woman, I realized. I’m done. I really am done. I don’t hurt any less over what I lost by this revelation. But I know. It’s time to let that part of me go.
Tomorrow is T-Day. Tattoo. I’ve worked with my best friend and the tattoo artist to come up with something that is really representative of what I feel and what I need. But until tonight there was something still missing. I found it, by chance, and am hoping the artist can incorporate it on short notice. I feel like it’s incomplete without it, so it may be something that has to be added later. That’s ok too.
Closure isn’t as easy as deciding to move forward. It isn’t as easy as a tattoo. It isn’t as easy as showing up to a baby shower when all you want to do is cry.
But forward is the only direction to go.