Elizabeth
After a long three-month science experiment with my ovaries, I received a text from my cousin, who had been through the same fertility treatment just a few months earlier, saying “you're only one day away from being impregnated - go ahead and consider yourself a mom!”
I just finished a long round of IVF and, the day after Mother’s Day, my fertility doctor implanted two beautiful embryos in my uterus.
“Absolutely perfect,” the doctor said about my microscopic babies.
I’ve always had anxiety and expect the worst, but after that procedure, I felt confident.
My sister bought me a Mother’s Day card before the implantation telling me what a great mom I’d be and that she couldn’t wait for our babies to grow up together. I was hesitant after reading the card, but my heart fluttered and I thought that maybe this procedure would work out in my favor, after all.
A week later – the tests came back. I was expecting my first child. I was over the moon.
I was on cloud nine and the happiest that I have ever felt. Finally, after a long struggle of trying to get pregnant, I was going to be a mom.
I was on cloud nine and the happiest that I have ever felt. Finally, after a long struggle of trying to get pregnant, I was going to be a mom. I was going to “fit in” and be like everyone else.
I even convinced myself it was going to be a boy because I was wearing a bright blue dress the day I found out.
As I stood in the sun dabbing my feet in the warm shallow end of the river, making a daisy chain, I couldn’t see the massive storm rolling in behind me. I couldn’t have known that my life would be changed forever.
A month later, I lost the baby. A few months after that, I lost another baby. Last, but not least, two months after the second miscarriage, I lost my twins. Three miscarriages in six months – I had never felt such agony and despair in my life. I felt cursed and I hated myself.
The doctor ordered every blood test under the sun to check if anything was wrong with me and the results came back normal. There was nothing I could blame this on and nothing to do to fix it. So, naturally, I blamed myself.
To add to the loss, three months later my husband and I divorced. In a season where I was already torn apart, I packed my bags and never looked back.
Close to a year has now passed and I’m still trying to put the pieces together. Here I am, floating down the river of pain without trying to break the current. It’s taking me somewhere I’ve never been but if I allow it to teach me, then I will be in peace and, I pray, wiser.
I’m not going to leave this story with a solemn ending. I’m free now and I’m not under any shackles of following a narrow road to be like everyone else. I’m no longer under the illusion that life flows one way – a perfect home, a husband and lots of babies. I tried that road and somehow, I was detoured.
Sometimes, you don’t have to be strong, sometimes you have to let the pain out, cry, and float down that river of loss.
I’m happy most days, although it's taken every kernel of strength to get here. And each day I can see the current bringing me back to the sun and to that daisy chain that I never finished making. I’m so close – I just have to ride it out.
I don’t know what my future holds – maybe I’ll fall in love, maybe I’ll have three beautiful children, or perhaps, I’ll finally learn to know what happiness is with or without a child.
For all of those who have gone through pregnancy loss or infertility, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes, you don’t have to be strong, sometimes you have to let the pain out, cry, and float down that river of loss.
Child, or no child – your worth is the same and don’t let anyone make you feel inferior.