It’s 5am 10/14/2017 and I’m woken up from the usual urge to urinate, extreme hunger pains, as well as the feel of baby boy moving. I pick up my phone to see what time it is and I look at the date on my phone. 10/14. A sudden feeling of saddness overwhelms me and I fight back the tears. Is it appropriate for me to mourn, to still feel robbed of something so sweet and precious, when there’s this amazing blessing kicking away in my womb? I start to think back at last year, at how this exact time last year, I laid awake with sheer excitement, as I envisioned how our very first transfer would go. I also tried to fight back the fear, the extreme worry of all the what ifs. I also remember switching positions in bed as the pain in my butt cheeks from progesterone injections was awful. I remember turning over and just staring at Taylor(not in a creepy way 😂) and just pondering on how extremely difficult this whole process must have been on him as well, how even more deeply in love with him and with us I was, as we conquered a great deal. Tears started welling in my eyes and there was this overwhelmingly heaviness in my chest, as I imagined how much of an amazing father he would be, and how unfair it was that we had to endure so much to even get there. He opened his eyes and looked in mine and whispered “good morning beautiful, today’s the big day!”
As I lay here present day, it all comes back to me in quick flashes: We say a prayer on the long ride to our fertility clinic, Taylor is talking a lot but I’m quiet (what we do when we’re nervous). We get to the clinic and it all happens quickly. Our embryologist gives us a detailed report of our two embryos out of our 13 that they thawed and how beautiful and excellent they looked. “If they both don’t stick, I’m sure at least one will, they look amazing!” our embryologist exclaimed. The pain of the catheter going in, us watching the ultrasound machine as the embryologist and specialist inserted our two beautiful, longed for embryos inside my womb. I remember testing a few days later and getting those two beautiful pink lines and surprising Taylor with a cute onesie when I picked him up from the airport after a TDY a few more days later. Then the dreaded day of our second beta (blood draw that tests hcg levels. Numbers should double 48 hours) and the nurse said somberly “your numbers dropped significantly. I’m sorry. Stop all meds. Sometimes these things just happen. You have plenty more embryos. Call us when you start bleeding and we can discuss doing another transfer.” I remember waiting to bleed, waiting for it all to be over. Hearing the words “not a viable pregnancy” over and over again in my head, replaying it all. What a cruel joke it felt like. Out of all the pain and “why’s”, we decided to find the beauty, the amazing feeling it was to carry you even for a short time, the knowing that God did bless us with a gift, it just wasn’t ours to keep and we knew he would bless us again. That knowing is what kept us moving forward, that kept us hoping and believing.
And here we are a year later, remembering the day we began something beautiful that gave us our first gift, that perpelled and altered us in the most astounding of ways. It taught us not to give up, to keep pursuing our dreams, to put action with our faith and oh my goodness, aren’t we glad we did.
Im learning it’s ok to still feel saddened by what happened, while celebrating our amazing Gideon. I believe it’s imperative to never forget or dismiss the difficulties, this particular one needs to be honored. It’s tough to depict exactly what i feel, I guess saddness, and some anger, coupled with extreme excitement, hope and love.
So, my sweet friends, I’m sure many of you have memories of a time in which has changed you, has molded you. Maybe those memories are difficult to return to, possibly they’re so painful the thought leaves you paralyzed. On the other hand, those memories may remind you of a time in which propelled you to where you are today. Whatever the case, remember there is indeed beauty from ashes, we just have to open our eyes and hearts to be able to recognize and receive it.