The last 2 embryo transfers have started off with the need for emergency, last minute surgeries. I have been poked and prodded and violated more times than I can count in our desire to grow our family. When we first found out we had 19 embryo, when we were able to freeze 14, we didn't know what our future would look like. We used to joke about a reality TV show if we had them all. We used to wonder what we would do with those that were frozen toward the end, those we wouldn't ever know. Especially when I was pregnant with Lucas, preparing for the 4th baby I would raise, knowing that we had 8 more embryo and I seemed to get pregnant no matter what and we were only transferring 1 at a time. And now? Well, now we have 4 left. We have 2 attempts, and then we are done. I am realizing this may be it for us. And, then what? Our family doesn't feel complete. But, maybe that's just the circumstances, maybe it never will.
Today marks 7 months since I delivered our sweet baby boy. Seven months since we welcomed Lucas into the world, only to have to say goodbye. Seven months ago I was able to hold my sweet boy in my arms, to soak up every second of time with him. And now, seven months have gone by with empty arms and a broken heart. Again. I miss my Lucas, every second of every day. I still twinge when I see a baby boy, still feel my breath catch as I walk past the baby section in the stores. The difference this time around is that I have no shelter, no way to hide from it all. And no babies growing in my belly. I always thought pregnancy loss would be easier if I had other kids at home. It is not.
2017 sucked. That's really the best word I can type out to describe it. We lost so much, and there is so much pain there. I will never see my son grow up, never hear his little baby cries, never nurse him to sleep, never grow exhausted with the midnight feedings. I am missing so much. And, I should be right at the same point with Noah, 23.5 weeks. And instead, nothing. I am back on hormones and all sorts of new drugs, an attempt to prevent the future loss of any more babies. But, as I spoke with my MFM, with each loss our odds go down. Now, I know better than anyone that the statistics mean absolutely nothing. In the best and worst of ways, we defy the odds. But, on days like today, when the grief and loss are so raw, my mind goes back there. Oh, what I wouldn't do to have my sweet boys back. To have them all back. Reagan. Lucas. Noah. These last 2 we didn't even get to name. I lose so much of myself with each loss. And the thing is, I keep telling myself that, at least I can only lose 4 babies this year. But, with that is the end of our chances, the complete closure of this chapter of my life. And that, that is terrifying.
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