One year ago today, I was logging onto Shopbop.com to cancel the order I’d placed days earlier for a gorgeous caftan maternity dress. The day before, the hospital that got me pregnant through a desperate round of IVF was diagnosing my miscarriage. There was no heartbeat, no gestational sack, no nothing. Just two crying adults, holding hands. Feeling so empty handed, again. That night, they rushed me into surgery, for fear that the pregnancy was an ectopic in my tubes.
It was a tough and terrible time in our lives. My mom flew over from California to be with us. She sat with me on the sofa and cried each time I did. She let Martin take care of the food and straightening up the place, while she kept a laser-focus on my needs. She was so decent and loving, refusing to let me fall into a spiralling pit of despair. The kind in infertility that blocks out any bright spots beneath the thick fog of grief.
You find out who your warriors ours, in times like this. Mom made sure I ate breakfast every morning. And she sewed for me some healing pillows to brighten up a dark nook in our living room. We bought a chandelier from an antique dealer to add some purple Murano glass to light up our darkness.
One year later, I still hurt. That event – that miscarriage – that cruel ‘close, but no cigar‘ (literally) is so rough and raw in my soul. I grieve the baby I lost. I tracked my baby’s journey the entire remaining weeks, until my October due date passed, and I finally felt I could let go. A little.
But it hurts still. And I brace myself for a lifetime where I grieve the little start of a human that was taken from us. Depression is the only new member of our family.
One year later, and 3 more IVF cycles later, we feel so far from having the family we crave. We walk around with heavy hearts on a daily basis. I recently started a long protocol of IVF at a new clinic that takes a more humane approach to women going through this struggle. After nearly two weeks of a nasal spray that has thrown me into menopause, I will be scanned on Tuesday to determine if I am ready to start stimulation through FSH.
We are back in the game again, after a 4.5 month hiatus from treatments. I am awash in fear, but trying to find the hope I once had.