Thursday, June 23, 2011

Thoughts

Over 300. Over 300 messages of support, when I add up blog comments, twitter and text messages over the last two days. People first wishing us luck, and then sharing our sorrow.

Do you all know how amazing that is? Do you know how much each and every single word of support has meant to me? I don't know if I can ever really tell you. Your support has made me feel less alone. Has made me know that you all feel this heartbreak with us. That you understand that this feels like a loss. A loss of something we knew we wanted, of something we thought we would have.

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I thought the major portion of the tears dried up yesterday afternoon around the time Henry and I got up from naps. Turns out I was wrong. They started again in full force once I climbed into bed for the night. I wasn't able to sleep until around 3, then Henry was up at 4 and 5:30 coughing. I am about to start work, and need to put on my brave face before people start asking how may day off went, but I can't seem to find it. But how do I stay home and miss another day of work for a cycle that was never anything more than a hope and heartache?

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I had a plan for how to tell you all I was pregnant yesterday. I kept thinking about it, and nothing seemed right. Then right before I went for my blood draw, it came to me. It was cute and simple. It would give the new baby a name on the blog, and I was happy about it. It really felt like everything was falling into place. Until it wasn't.

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I feel lost. I am really not sure where exactly to go from here, and that is terrifying. I just...never had any doubt that of our six high quality frozen blasts we would get at least one child. I never questioned us being at least a family of four. It felt right. It felt like what was suppose to happen. And now that it hasn't...I just don't know what exactly to do. My heart is broken, and I can't find a way to fix it.

I want to take back that this was our last chance. I want to make ONE MORE last chance. But there is just no way, short of Kentucky deciding that infertility is a disease and not a choice and should be covered by insurance. Doc wants us to do another fresh cycle, but it would cost around $18,000. We have already done too much, because we thought this was suppose to happen. How could we move forward, especially now knowing that these things don't always work. With my body more broken than before. With older eggs and a lower chance of success. As much as I want to, we just can't. This really was the last chance.

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I decided yesterday evening that we should go out to dinner. I just couldn't sit at the house anymore. Everything was nice, just the three of us at Qdoba, then I noticed the empty 4th chair at our table. And it hit me again. Just three. Never four. The tears started once more, but I got them under control. Henry started to dance at the table, and I laughed. Really laughed. But then I cried a little more.

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As much as I hate this for me and Nick, I hate it most for Henry. I look at him, and I hate that the best thing I could ever have given him, I wont be able to. That he will forever have the pressure of being an only child, never have the joy and love of a sibling. I can't imagine that. And I hate it for him. I wish that, for him, there was going to be another. I wish it for me too, but my heart breaks all over again for my sweet boy and what he will never have.

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It is strange the things I am mourning already. Of course the fact that we wont have another baby, but also little things. that I will never be pregnant again, that I will never feel a baby move inside of me, that I will never have that amazing experience of giving birth again. That I will never nurse again. All these things, these things that I loved. And now I know they are actually over. Forever. Each one feels a little more like a knife in the heart. Not only the loss of the idea of another child, but the loss of everything. Each little piece that makes parenting so amazing.

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I hate my broken body.

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I was at church on Sunday and one thing that was said in the message is that God doesn't give you what you want, he gives you what will build your character. I cannot imagine that this is why this happened, as a character building activity, but I just cannot see why we were given these six amazing embryos, just to come out the other end the same. Only more broken.

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As hard as the last day has been, we are going to come out the other side of this okay. We are a damn good family of three. And although that empty chair will always be heart breaking for me, I do know how lucky we are. We have our sweet boy, and we have each other.

Thank you for reading along. Thank you for the support. I will find my footing soon. But for a little while I may seem lost. Because right now, I am.

30 comments:

  1. Sarah,
    I am so sorry... {hugs}

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  2. Here's what I can tell you. Being done is really, really hard. So take time to grieve, because it's an adjustment of everything you ever thought.

    But it gets easier, too. I spent time reading about the myths and challenges of raising and only child, and it's made me feel a lot better. Your son will do okay without a sibling. Really.

    Man, this just sucks that you have to deal with this. I'm so sorry. Take your time, cry when you need to, and we're here for you. Always, too, email me if you have questions or just want to commiserate.

    Hugs, Sarah. And lots of love to you over the next few weeks.

    xoxo

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  3. what a beautiful post, Sarah.

    big hugs to you!

    I have no words that feel appropriate

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  4. Oh, honey. Just know that I love you. And also. You are a VERY GOOD writer.

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  5. I wish there was some way we could convert those 300 comments to currency for another cycle, another chance.

    I wish there was something more to say--sorry is so inadequate.

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  6. My stomach aches reading this, because I can feel the pain in your words. I wish so much that I could do something to take that pain away. All I can do is let you know that I'm here, and I'm thinking about you.

    Sorry just doesn't cut it right now. It's not enough. :(

    xo

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  7. My heart aches for you. Thank you for sharing this part of your journey with us. Thank you for coming alongside all of us and allowing us to come alongside you. You are dearly loved.

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  8. I don't comment much, but read your blog all of the time. I just wanted to say how very sorry I am for you and your husband and your son. I know nothing anyone says will make this better, only time will take care of that.

    Henry has an amazing Mom and Dad, he is so very lucky. Gentle hugs to you, you will get through this day and every day after, let everyone's support lift you up when you need it.

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  9. Been lurking for a while, love your blog, and I just wanted to say how sorry I am.

    Nurse Bee

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  10. I hurt so much for you, and even more because I could be facing the same thing. Sometimes it is hard to realize my family may be done, and it just may be the three of us forever. But other times its not so hard. Its easy to travel with one kiddo. I can do so much more for one than I could for two. My one will be exposed to so much more of the world because I can afford it and handle it so much easier than I could with two. When I hurt, those are the things I think of.

    I know how much it hurts. I am right here with you. If all we ever get is the one we have, then we are blessed beyond measure already, and we know that.

    *big hugs*

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  11. I'm so sorry. I'm thinking of you and sending all my love.

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  12. I'm so sorry. I'm in tears reading your beautiful, raw words of grief. Henry is so lucky to have you as his momma. Praying for you and your family.

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  13. Sarah, I know you are hurting and I am so sorry. My sweet husband is an only child and the best man I've ever met. He never felt pressure because of it & has an amazing relationship with his parents, his dad was his best man at our wedding. Henry is so lucky to have you both as parents. You all are on my mind. xoxo

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  14. Sarah, my heart is broken for you as I have followed your story with such hope that you would have a different outcome. First I will tell you even though I have 2 children, it is always hard to accept when you know you are "done". The want for a new little baby never goes away. Also even though I have to beloved half sisters, I grew up as my mom's only child and it isn't such a bad thing. My wonderful husband is also an only child and he had a wonderful childhood. There is such a stigma with only children that shouldn't be. They are wonderful! And I know Henry has amazing parents and an amazing extended family to grow up with. And a sweet cousin he will be so close to. Take time to grieve and I will be praying for you.

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  15. I love you so much. I wish I had words to take the hurt away. I am so sorry for your heartbreak and loss.

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  16. thanks for this post, it was touching. I really hope you can find a way back into the positive again soon.

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  17. Sitting at my computer sobbing for you. I hope you know that you are not alone in your grieving! <3

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  18. I am mostly a lurker - I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone. I couldn't have written every word of this post, if I was as good at writing that is.

    Our last cycle was a bust (last 4 cycles actually) and going through it, I had known that is was probably our last chance. But when I realized that I wasn't pregnant, I managed to convince myself that we could find a way to do it again. The financial doors seem to be closing now and I'm afraid that it really was our last chance.

    I mourn all those things you do. I have a sweet little 3 year old from embryo adoption that is my world. I'm having a hard time imagining our family being just the 3 of us. LIke you, I had pictured our family looking much different - this just isn't the way it's supposed to be. I really want to experience another pregnancy. My eggs are getting old, we are out of money and this all just sucks.

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  19. First, sending you lots of love and hugs.

    I could relate to A LOT of this post...knowing that we are done with treatments. A slight chance of adoption, but thats so far off my radar, that I live in mind space of: my family is done. And its soooo hard to not be in CONTROL of that decision.

    Im here for you...anything at all. Even if you just need a partner in crime--AND our boys could be "brothers" growing up :) xoxo

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  20. Oh no, I'm so very sorry that you're going through this. I wish I had some words that would make a difference, but I know that I don't. All I can say is that I'll be thinking about you and your journey, sending you healing thoughts, and following along. Hang in there!!!

    ICLW #9

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  21. Oh, Sarah. My heart breaks for you :(


    (((hugs)))

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  22. I am so sorry. You are in my thoughts. I don't have a blog but love to read yours! Take care of yourself. Hugs.... Kristin

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  23. This post has moved me to tears. I feel like I understand some of your pain. We have made the decision to be a family of three. The added ripping away of the hope that you felt has got to make this even harder.

    Even without having ever tried for an additional child, I grieve for the child that will never be. I grieve for the "family of four" that we'll never be. I mourn the loss of all the plans that we had. Each of his firsts is met with a bit of sadness, as I know this is the only time I will experience these things. It's taking a lot of adjusting to wrap my brain around what our family will be. And to not feel like we're robbing our little man of something by not trying again.

    You're in my thoughts and prayers. *hugs*

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  24. I've been reading along. Hoping and praying you'd get your baby. This last post was heartbreaking. I hope that you find the peace you deserve, whether it is accepting your family of 3 as complete, fostering, adopting, or winning the lottery and doing IVF until you get that baby! My heart aches for you. And I know I may be in your situation someday soon. I hope I handle it with such eloquence.

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  25. i am so sorry. i know how devastating it all is and i wish i could give you a hug. just know that you're in my thoughts and prayers and that you really will be stronger for the experience. hugs!

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  26. Sarah- I was so sorry to log in today and see this news. I was REALLY hoping this last FET was going to be the golden one for you. My heart just sunk after reading your news because I know exactly how you are feeling right now...that lost feeling, like "what now?" Give your husband and Henry an extra squeeze tonight and know you are one truly blessed girl!

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  27. I'm behind in my blog reading honey and just read this. We're so sorry and are thinking of you constantly. We love you. There's nothing I can say that will help. Just know you are loved. Kiss Henry for us and give him a squeeze.

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  28. I am so sorry. Praying for peace - hugs.

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  29. I know that you are still in the midst of grieving for Henry's sibling, but I wanted to let you know that I was an only child, and I still had a wonderful childhood. My mother was my best friend, and we had all kinds of adventures together.

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  30. sending more hugs.
    no words, just hugs.

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