A Window Closes Too

This post should probably come with a disclaimer. This is not a happy, hopeful post. This is the harsh reality that is my life.

We’ve been keeping a secret from pretty much everyone we know. Over the past few weeks, I have been preparing for a frozen embryo transfer. We didn’t tell many people because it felt private. I have taken countless pills, both orally and vaginally (sorry if that’s TMI – welcome to my world), been on a high iron and magnesium diet, and gone to acupuncture twice a week. All of this was in the hopes that it would thicken my endometrial lining, and we could move on to an embryo transfer. We’ve had mixed results throughout, but got a glimmer of hope earlier this week that maybe, just maybe, we could get there.

We found out today that this isn’t the case. My lining is pretty damaged from the D&C’s I had after Vivienne was born, and despite medications, diet, and acupuncture, it will likely never get to where it needs to be to sustain a pregnancy. While there are still some other options we could try, the doctor told us not to get our hopes up.

And so a month ago, I closed the door on ever getting pregnant on my own. Today, I attempt to close the door on ever carrying another child.

It’s probably for the best, in some way. My body has been nothing but a deathtrap for my children. It has failed me and them more times than I can count. To continue to try for a miracle feels incredibly selfish, like I would just be inviting more loss and heartache. To continue to try would only be for my own self-worth, so that I wouldn’t continue to feel like a failure. I can’t justify putting one of our precious embryos in an unviable situation just so I can feel like I tried.

I have never tried harder for anything in my life. I have endured countless procedures, 3 surgeries, pills that could fill your medicine cabinet, and shots and needles that fill 3 hazards containers. All of this in the span of 16 months. And ultimately, all for nothing. All that I have to show for it are 3 more children in heaven, a few extra pounds, a lighter bank account, and a heart that has been broken over and over and over again.

We will figure out a way forward from here. But for now, I am just exhausted, confused, frustrated, angry, disillusioned, hopeless, and most of all, unbelievably sad. I don’t exactly know how to accept that you can work so hard for something you want so desperately and come up empty handed.