I think it’s time to throw out the meds in my fridge. They’ve been there 18 months, since the last time I got to try and get pregnant with my own eggs. Since that loss I’ve gone on to try 3 more times with someone else’s eggs. (3 different someone’s but who’s counting?) resulting in 1 chemical and 2 fails. I know I should be writing more about my fertility story, or lack thereof, but it’s hard. Harder than I ever imagined. But I’m trying to do better. If something I say can help just one person, even for just a little while, then it will be worth the effort.

So back to the original point of this post. I have meds sitting around, taking up space, reminding me every time I open the fridge of my chance to have a child with my genetics. For the first year they were right up front, right in my face when I opened the door. I was so hopeful when I started them. I really thought they were going to do the trick. And they did, sort of, 2 chemical pregnancies. But now they have made their way to the back of the shelf, where I don’t have to think about them too often. Or the hope I once had. You see, even though I had to move on to donated genetics in order to keep working with the doctors, I never gave up hope of having mine own genetic child. If I’m going to be really honest, I still haven’t. Perhaps it was a mental trick I played on myself in order to move on. Well I’ll just do this and have a child and then, just like in a movie I’ll meet this amazing guy and fall in love and a few months after having the first child I’ll magically get pregnant with Mr. Wonderful and bam, more kids and with my genes (well half anyway). It’ll be great!

But even the hope of that is fading away. Let’s be honest, what are the chances of that even happening? I haven’t had a date in something like 4 years. How exactly would one go a out dating while going through fertility treatments? When do you bring that up, during the appetizer or do you wait till desert? Then there’s the hormonal roller coaster combined with repeated cycles of grief ranging from a skipped cycle, to a failed cycle, to a chemical. I haven’t been able to carry one long enough to see the sac and heartbeat yet, so I haven’t had the devastation of later loss or complications to deal with. My heart goes out to you if you are one of the ones who has.

It’s time to let the meds go. It’s time to move on without knowing what’s going to happen next or where I will land. I have been attempting to sail to distant shores without taking my eyes of the old one. Time to be brave one more time.

If you’re reading this and you too are struggling with building a family, know that I’m sending you virtual hugs and encouragement to be brave too with whatever step you’re at now. There are a lot of us out there, we’re not alone. Even though it feels like it cause people just don’t talk about this stuff. But let’s start, ok?

♥ Jane

P.S. Ok, I did it. I cried a little, but that’s ok, there is crying in bravery. The gap they have left on the shelf is noticeable but I haven’t regretted it a bit.