Infertility, Miscarriage

Letting go

May 4, 2011

I don’t know how to let go of this dream.  I don’t know how to say good-bye.

I have known for quite some time that we may never have a child, but I still had hope.  Now, I don’t.

There is no dream any more, just reality.

I have known for a while that we might have to face the facts and I thought I was, but I wasn’t. It’s all hitting me now.  Like a ton of bricks.

How I do say good-bye?  I guess I’ve been in denial. My mind was able to process what my heart refused to see.

Now that the picture has taken shape, it’s not pretty.

Everyone always said we’d have beautiful children.  With my blonde hair and blue eyes, and Erick’s olive skin and Latin good looks.  I will never meet that child. And, now I’m grieving that loss both as the babies I’ve lost and as a dream that never was. I’m grieving the little boy with curly hair like his daddy.

I think now that we are really researching adoption agencies, that is causing all of this to sink in.

To really know that dream is gone is devastating.  Especially after everything we’ve been through to get there.  I guess I thought if we tried hard enough and long enough, eventually it would work.

It’s like we went off-route through a mountain underpass years ago and we’ve been blindly working our way through the tunnel. We went in as two, but were supposed to come out as three.  And now we see the light at the end of that tunnel, but we are still two and have to walk out of it anyway.

I think about the babies we’ve lost.  Four of them.  My first miscarriage changed me.  And the subsequent losses only made the wounds deeper.

We always knew in the past, that there was something else to try, but we have run out of the emotional and financial capacity to keep going much longer.  Financially, to be able to do something new like embryo biopsies.  Emotionally, to continue to do IVFs the same way with no new answers.

Throughout this process, I have learned that you can’t anticipate what you’ll be feeling one month from now or six months from now.  But for today, I can say for sure that I feel like I’m done with all of this.  I just can’t take any more.  I’m so tired.  Tired of fighting.  Tired of IVF.  Tired of the emotional rollercoaster. Tired of having to fight for every little detail of my care and micromanage the process.  Tired of fighting with insurance.  Tired of paying medical bills.  Tired of putting myself out there.  Just tired.

I always felt some inner strength before to continue on, but now it seems to have slipped away.  It’s weird because just months ago, I still had a little hope and some fight in me.  I fought so hard for the immune testing and thought that was the answer.  But now, I’m feeling like a snake-charmer sold me a dream.

We have decided to do one more last-ditch effort with a frozen embryo transfer (This will be #6).  The main reason I’m doing it is because we have two frozen embryos left and we can’t afford to keep them in storage forever and don’t want to have to make a decision of destroying them, donating them or giving them to science.  So, we’re going to transfer them and attempt to try the immune treatment.  I’m pretty sure this is our last try.  Like I said, I have absolutely no hope.  Therefore, we are asking that you have hope for us.  We really need a miracle now.

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  • What a beautiful, and heartwrenching post. I’m so very sorry that you’ve gone through everything you have, and you still don’t have your baby. After it all, it’s understandable that your hope is slipping, but I still have hope for you. Maybe because I found success with a similar treatment as what you’ll do, or maybe because I want so much for this to work for you. But no matter what, I’ll keep your hope – you don’t have to. Just keep moving forward. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll get your miracle. Sending you love and hugs…

  • I really feel for you. It’s such hard work, fighting infertility, fightinginsurance companies, trying to juggle living a life with treatments and appointments.

    I hope this FET does the trick. *hugs*

  • Rebecca

    I’ll keep hope for you.

  • Jess

    Keeping hope for you and just letting you know I know how it feels. It can get better, but I’ll admit it never goes away completely. I wish no one had to experience recurrent miscarriage.

  • I’m so sorry. It’s such a difficult journey and hard decision to make. Thinking of yall. I really hope the FET works.

  • I don’t think you’ve been in denial. I think you fought hard, and tried all you could. I’m so sorry that you won’t get to meet those children, and I can’t imagine the pain of a possible future that sounds like it’s not going to be possible.

    Something I’d point out, though, is that if you decide to adopt, or whatever happens, you two are going to be amazing. You care so much, and that child, regardless of how they come into your lives, will be loved, cherished, nurtured and encouraged to the fullest.

    I’m so sorry for all the pain you’ve gone through, physically and emotionally. But your will to love and try and hope, and to express it, is beyond admiration and respect.

    Thinking of you and hoping for the best for you.

  • I’m keeping hope for you both.. don’t give up xx

  • I’m so sorry for the pain and exhaustion you are feeling. I often wonder how much more of this we can put ourselves through…we have frozen embryos but once those are gone it’s the end of the road for us as far as medical intervention goes. I just can’t keep living like this with the drugs and the hope and the money and the disruptions to our schedules and life…
    Don’t mean to make this all about me…I guess what I wanted to say is that I feel for you being where you are at and can totally understand feeling like you are done…and how awful to be in that place and not have your dreamed-of baby.
    I have sooooo much hope for this embryo transfer for you…I will do my part to keep the hope alive. 🙂
    Good luck and be super gentle with yourself right now…
    xoxo

  • I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through. Your pain is tangible through your words. I am keeping hope for you and your next step.

  • This post is heartwrenching. It speaks so much to me. Although my story is not the same as yours, I feel some of the things you have described here. I’m sorry you’re finding yourself here right now.

    I still don’t know what to think about immune treatments, myself. I want to be hopeful about them, because they seem to be my best hope for a biological child, but, like you, I’m not sure.

    In spite of all of that, I am holding hope for you. Like a candle in my heart, I will hold hope for you, that the immune treatments on this next FET bring you a pregnancy that lasts. (((Hugs)))

  • My heart honestly aches for you. Through your words I can truly feel your pain. I am so so sorry you’re going through this.

  • C

    I’m so sorry Whitney. What a heartbreaking post. I haven’t quite reach where you are on the hope scale, but I’m on the fast track there. After awhile, it just takes too much out of you to remain hopeful and optimistic.

    So, like you said, I will hold out hope for you. If I can’t for myself, and you can’t for yourself, I’ll be a hope surrogate for you. ((hugs))

  • Whitney, this is a beautiful, heartbreaking post. I am so sorry you are going through this, but I believe in my heart that you will have your beautiful babies one way or another. We all lose faith at times during this journey, and when that happens, just know that there are others of us out there who do have faith for a positive outcome for you. You will continue to be in my thoughts. Sending you big virtual hugs.

  • marilyn

    Whitney, you have a brilliant way of expressing yourself. I empathize what you are going through. This really is such a hard journey. I have been going through it for over a year and I am so fearful. I hope you do go for that fet. Number 6! Oh my Whitney! That is a lot. I have only done one and I feel so emotionally, physically, and finiacally drained!

  • Gail

    I’ve found your blog through the Creme de la Creme. I am so sorry for your pain and losses and hope that all your wishes and dreams will come true with this last try.

  • MM

    Whitney,
    Your story is my story. I feel your pain. Thank you for expressing yourself in a way that I would never be able to. It appears we have been down the same unfortunate road. I’ve had 5 miscarriages, with virtually no explanation. In 2008 we got pregnant naturally, made it to 6 wks, saw a heartbeat and then miscarried. Then tried to get pregnant again for another 8 months with no success. Then had HSG and learned I had a polup and a septum in my uterus. Had both fixed. Tried to get pregnant again, no luck. Did 3 IUIs and got pregnant on third (which was actually a canceled IVF cycle). Then had a biochemical miscarriage. Then got pregnant with IVF, was on lovenox and other standard drugs and that pregnancy was ectopic. Then switched doctors and started getting treated by Dr. Kwak-Kim in Illinois who specializes in auto-immune (IVIG and natural killer cell treatment). I had entire RPL panel run multiple times (all normal). Dr. Kwak-Kim believed that I had high natural killer cells and poor blood flow to my uterus. She also discovered that my thyroid was high (it should be under 3). She put me on 14 different drugs including the devil drug, lovenox. At 6 wks I started bleeding so dr started me IVIG treatments. I made it to 7wks and then miscarried and had to have a D&C. Fetus was tested and found to be normal. We then switched to Dr. Mary Stephenson at the University of Chicago. She’s also an auto-immune specialist but does not believe in natural killer cells or IVIG. Says its not well founded in scientific evidence. She did an endometrial biopsy to rule out any infection in the uterus. Her theory is that your uterus is like a garden and you need good soil in order for a seed to grow. My results were normal. She was also able to get the tissue from my first miscarriage tested (I had brought tissue to the hospital but at the time they refused to test it since it was my first miscarriage. However I learned that hospitals must keep pathology tissue for 20 yrs!) So my new dr got the old tissue from 2008 and had it tested. That test showed the fetus had a chromosomal abnormality. Dr. then encouraged us to try naturally again with aid of progesterone (which I’ve been on almost every other time anyway). We got pregnant on 3rd month of trying (with the $200 clear blue fertility monitor) and then I had another miscarriage at week four (my 5th miscarriage). I like you am at my breaking point. I don’t think I can go on. I want to pursue surrogacy (considering we are both healthy). But my husband isn’t ready to go there and wants to try again. I don’t know how much more I can endure. I’m on antidepressants, go to individual and group therapy and have a strong support system. But at what point is enough, enough. I’m sharing my story with you b/c I still want you to have faith. You need it b/c I need it. If you want to talk or exchange info or resources please don’t hesitate to contact me at matchmikki@hotmail.com

    I wish you the very best and my thoughts are with you and your husband.

  • Pingback: What Is Hope? | Invisible Mother()

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    zogo on zogospellcasters@gmail.com and you will be happy you did.