{me and my wee-little embryo. spoiler alert: it didn't make it}
Just over 3 years ago, Paul and I experienced
the amazing moment of a positive pregnancy test. It was our second month of
trying to conceive, and our heart’s desire had quickly been filled with a new
baby on the way! Roswelle Gray Lashway arrived 9 months later and I became a Mom.
It was blissfully simple, other than my water breaking at 37 weeks at a
restaurant in Ogunquit, Maine.
All I have ever wanted to be was a mother -
and thankfully I AM. I should pause here to say that our journey has been so
much more bearable, blessed even, with Roswelle in our lives. She is our
walking, laughing, growing little miracle. Right now I’m at a place where the
longer it takes me to get pregnant, the more I appreciate my one-on-one time
with my little angel.
Ever since I can remember, I have envisioned
myself with a big family. I always assumed
I was going to be a fertile-Myrtle (see: my Mom and her 4 children). And after
having Roswelle I saw no reason why my plan (and time-frame) wasn’t going to
play out as I had dreamed. And then when
“my plan” wasn’t falling into place, I was devastated. There is no other way to
put it: I’ve struggled with a lot of self-judgment. It has been very difficult,
and I’m still not there, but I’m
trying to understand God’s plan for me while leaving my manufactured plan
behind.
For the first 9 months of trying for a second
baby I was incredibly private, you could even say secretive. Each month of no
baby, the secret kept becoming more poisonous. I was trying everything: less
running, then more running, no coffee, then as much coffee as my heart desired,
acupuncture (which I loved), blackstrap molasses (for iron), gluten-free (still
am), all the ovulation strips, all the wives-tales you can think of, and even a
glass of champagne on ovulation day to help my body (and mind) relax. And yes,
there were even months where I truly “didn’t think about it” and didn’t even really
want to get pregnant, and alas I still didn’t get pregnant! But no matter what
I tried, my anxiety fed off the secret, creating a tumultuous cycle. I was
trying so hard to be zen from the inside out, to create a comfy space for a new
baby, but the secret of unsuccessfully trying was consuming. My closest of
friends, even family, were all kept in the dark. I was so scared that people
would see me as flawed, a disappointment, infertile.
Then finally, after a lot of encouragement from Paul, I did it. I shared. I don’t even
remember who the first person I told was, or how much I told them, but I do
remember cautiously mentioning that IVF was something we were considering (Paul
and I had already met with an endocrinologist in January to discuss our
options). I’m sure it was awkward for both parties, no one can ever say the
right thing the right way, and emotions were high on my part. But that first release
felt so good. So good in fact that the leak of the secret turned into a flow of
information. I started telling anyone and everyone. The more people I told, the
lighter the burden. The judgements I had put on myself and my body started to
crumble and I began to see myself in a new light.
Fast forward to July, Paul and I went through
our first round of IVF. Because my uterus is smaller than normal (a unicornuate
to be exact), twins are medically risky for me, leading us directly to IVF with
single embryo transfers, skipping the less invasive options of clomid/IUI. We
had a successful first cycle, with a seamless 5-day fresh transfer, which
unfortunately, did not stick. I’m intentionally not including my egg retrieval
results in this post. I have gone down the dark rabbit hole of searching for
other women’s stats – egg count, fertilization, and embryo numbers. I compared
myself to these women and their numbers when I knew NOTHING about their medical
history, doctors, or lifestyle! My girlfriend finally told me to stop putting
other people’s experiences into my own expectations.
I recently ear-marked the paragraph below
from the book Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter. Once I stopped wallowing in what
wasn’t happening for me, I finally remembered I actually AM what I was trying
to be: fearfully and wonderfully made, a marvelous work.
“But aren’t all great quests folly? El
Dorado and the Fountain of Youth and the search for intelligent life in the
cosmos – we know what’s out there. It’s what isn’t that truly compels us.
Technology may have shrunk the epic journey to a couple of short car rides and
regional jet legs – four states and twelve hundred miles traversed in an
afternoon – but true quests aren’t measured in time or distance anyways, so
much as in hope. There are only two good outcomes for a quest like this, the
hope of the serendipitous savant – sail for Asia and stumble on America – and
the hope of scarecrows and tin men: that you find out you had the thing you
sought all along.”
No matter what, this blog will continue to
be about all things inspiring and I hope this post in itself inspires you to
share. Whatever you are going through, try to let someone in. Bring it out of
the darkness, into the light; it will lose its power over you. From my
experience, being transparent has been an antidote to self-judgment. I found that when I shared what we were going
through, SO many others had experienced or were facing something similar. You
are not alone in this, so try to resist alienating yourself. We are designed to
thrive in a community: loving others and allowing others to love us.
We have had multiple delays, hurdles, and
disappointments and I’m sure there will be more – because that’s life. But for
now we are comfortable in our season of trust and patience. Paul says at least
once a week “It’s not a matter of ‘if’ we are able to hold another baby, it is
just a matter of ‘when and how’.” That may be more IVF cycles, it may be
adoption, it may be a naturally conceived baby. I’m thankful for the hope that
comes will all of those possibilities.
It’s hard for me to push “publish” on this,
but it means too much to me not to share. Blog posts that are worthy of a real
conversation are always hard to put out there for y’all to read, there will
inevitably be things I unintentionally leave out. But thank you for listening
while I listen to my heart that is nudging me to “share.”