Resolutions and whatnot.

Before this whole journey started, I used to make a lot of wishes. I’m not sure if that’s called superstition, or perhaps just an excess of hope, but there was never a chance to make a wish passed by. 11:11 was my favorite, I think, but then there was also birthdays, a rogue eyelash, or a wishbone. Frankly, I can’t remember what I used to wish before, before every one became a baby. But those wishes came and went, along with almost all my energy for positive thinking a la The Secret, meditations to will my fertility into existence, and overall positivity for any of this to change.

Going into this next cycle, I’ll admit I’m less than excited. After two losses, my sheer excitement is no longer enough to make the shots, finances, and possible bad news seem worth it. And to be honest, my butt still hurts from the last rounds. The thought of there being a baby at the end of this seems really hard to find. I mean, logically, I know. But my heart still isn’t so sure.

OK, so everybody together on my count of 3. Ready? 1… 2… 3…


I get that a lot. One day I’m going to write a lengthy post on adoption, but for right now, I’m going to boil it down to this:

  • Before you get your pitchforks out, we are TOTALLY OPEN to adoption. Seriously. We met with adoption agencies before we started any of this, and continue to do so when something comes up that might be a fit for us. We will continue to pursue avenues that work for our family. And just like you’ve had to make decisions in your life that fit for your family, we have too.
  • I have no idea where the term “just adopt” came from, but there’s no such thing as just adopting. Adoption is an incredibly hard process for both the birth mother and the adoptive parents, with a LOT of cost, and a lot of heartbreak for all parties involved. They’re not just handing out babies in need like a lot of people seem to think. And it’s all totally worth it. I’m just saying that there’s no easy road in this journey.

So, heart’s not so sure about all this, yet we continue to remain on the same course. Stop complaining. And I will. But here’s where the resolutions come in.

  1. Get out of my comfort zone.
    As horrible as infertility feels, it’s the only thing I know. If we’re being really honest here, I think there’s a part of me that’s equally terrified of seeing a positive as I am of seeing a negative. As badly as I want it, it’s new territory, and the uncertainty of this whole shebang is scary. A positive brings on so many other fears (that many without infertility also feel in early pregnancy) – will my body actually be able to do this? What if I miscarry? And so on.
    And this will apply to my whole life. I’ve already chopped off my hair and bought glasses that are not within my comfort zone. And you know what? I’m already happier for it.I tend to live by the mantra “do what you’ve always done, get what you’ve always gotten”. I’m over it. On to a new path.
  2. Renew my faith in being open to the possibility.
    I think I’ve kind of let this one slide, and I need to get it back. It was advice I got early into this process, and it gave me a lot of hope back then. And in a time that I’ve seemed to have lost all sense of hope, I need to make this one a priority. It is totally possible we’ll be parents at the end of this.
  3. Stop allowing infertility to change my plans, and plan for the life I have right now.
    Since we first started trying, everything was “ok, if I get pregnant this month, we’ll be x months along by (whenever). So I had better wait to…”. Yeah, no more of that. That ship has sailed. Because the fact is, right now, I’m not pregnant. I can do everything a pregnant lady can’t right now. Roller coasters, booze, soft cheese. You name it, I can do it. Except the litter box. I mean, we wouldn’t want our future baby to be affected by toxoplasmosis, right? Thanks honey.
    But seriously, I haven’t done so much because we might get pregnant. And here I am, four years later, and not pregnant. I’m going to plan for my life right now. And if I get pregnant, we’ll change the plan. But no more waiting for the unicorn.
  4. Stay better connected with friends and family. Stop being a hermit.
    I’ve found this process really brought out my inner introvert. I think I’ve always teetered the line between extrovert and introvert, but this has thrown me over the edge. I never know how I’m going to feel, or act, for that matter. Plus, there’s shots on very specific timelines, and not all of them I can do myself. And I always felt weird about doing them out of the house. But such is life. I need to get out and keep connections with my friends and family. Because I need you. We need you. And I hope that if I cry over something stupid in your presence, or act like a hormonal lunatic, you’ll understand.
  5. Stop treating unsuccessful cycles as failures, and instead treat them as losses.
    Failure implies that something was done wrong, and with that comes guilt, shame, and self hate. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I need to be ok with that, as much as I’d like to place blame. An unsuccessful cycle is very much so a loss, and the blame isn’t helpful.

So there we go. If you’ve read this far, you deserve a medal.

And with that, a giant thank you. Thank you for your heart, your thoughts, your help, your love. Thank you to everyone who has continued to support us on this journey. You have no idea how much you mean to both of us. You genuinely make a difference. I am so unbelievably grateful for your presence in my life.

I’ve debated whether or not to continue sharing so much. But here I am. And I hope it makes a difference to someone. Because this isn’t just a story about infertility. It’s about a life that you just didn’t imagine having. Just know you’re not alone, and I’m here for you too.

Happy New Year. May whatever you’re wishing for come true.