It's been 365 days since our Frozen Embryo Transfer. A profound day of celebration in our lives. Yet the range emotions I've felt today have varied beyond just the joy and euphoria that I thought I'd experience on this anniversary.
Today I've been revisited by the trauma of our infertility. Though I sit here rocking my 3.5 month old miracle, my mind flashes back to sitting on a cold table with my bladder uncomfortably full while a team of medical professionals prepared to get me pregnant.
It's a scene I'll never forget.
The sterile environment. The robotic, procedural conversation between the doctor and nurses. My husband not being allowed in the building. The doctor congratulating me after the procedure. The awkward and hesitant feeling after being congratulated- knowing nothing was guaranteed yet.
It's an experience that an elite group of people have the displeasure of going through in their lifetime. Not something I'd recommend. And not something I'd ever want to do again.
Ah, but of course. The lingering shadow of infertility shows it's ugly face again as I think about having another kid.
Will I have to go through this again???
It's always been our dream to have multiple kids. Not only that, but we've always wanted them close in age. I am 16 months younger than my only sister. Joe is 14 months younger than his only brother. Having babies close in age has been the plan for over a decade. But there are "rules"surrounding the timing of transfers. Many doctors will not do another while you're still breastfeeding. Most won't do another until 12-18 months after the birth of your first. And trust me, I know what you're thinking.
Maybe.... just maybe... we'll miraculously conceive on our own.
I think about it every day. I tell myself our bodies can do it this time. That they ARE capable. Yet, I can't allow myself to think too positively knowing there's a good chance that won't be the case.
Besides, what if we did conceive our second child on our own? After all we went through the first time, the anxiety of not knowing the grade of the embryo or having genetic testing to lessen our chances of a loss are enough to send my anxiety through the roof. (I realize that may come off as ridiculous because so many people conceive on their own without any of that information, but it's just a matter of having an experience that is completely different from the first time around that freaks me out.)
And should we be lucky enough to conceive on our own, it would also come with an immense amount of guilt for our other 6 currently frozen embryos. Am I selfish for even entertaining the desire to conceive naturally because there are 6 other embryos awaiting a chance at life? Won't it feel like I'm betraying them?
Man, this is such a mind fuck.
But these are the emotions that I've been processing today.
This is an overwhelming day. One that I didn't anticipate until I really started thinking through it the night before. Sometimes I can't believe we did it. The surgeries, the shots, the hormones... was that really my life? Did we actually go through all of that?
Damn, we did that. We fought for what we wanted against all odds. And as I end this emotionally charged day, I am making a commitment to have my last felt emotion of the day be pride.
I'm so proud of us.
Proud that we went through such a dark time and came out stronger. Proud that we didn't give up amidst a pandemic. Proud of the parents we have become. Proud of our strong little 4AA embryo that became a strong little baby girl.
And proud that we continue to work through the lingering affects of infertility. Our experience will remain part of our reality forever. We will allow ourselves to feel what we need to feel and move forward together towards whatever the next part of our lives has in store.
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