For these past four years, I seem to pass through days with time stamps that remind me of monumental events. Many of these bring back not-so-pleasant memories, but some of them absolutely beautiful –
June 2015: My love and I decided to start our family. He has been asking me from the moment we met, and I would always push it off. I was young and we were so new to each other, and I wanted to know it was the “right” time. I remember the day like it was yesterday. We were lying on the beach, catching some rays. He brought up the question for about the millionth time – “Babe, do you want to make a baby?” To his astonishment, I responded yes. In that moment, I remember the utter bliss of life itself. I was going to create life with the person I loved the most in this entire universe and life.
October 2016: At this point in our journey, we gave up on the idea of babies for a bit. It was over a year of trying. Month after month, we were disappointed. We decided to just enjoy each other, live life, and continue to try – but not think about it. And we did just that. I had a business trip to Atlanta, where my husband tagged along. I remember my period being late, but I thought nothing of it. I remember going out to dinner and ordering myself a beer, as usual. However, I couldn’t find myself to drink it. Upon getting home to Miami, I peed on a pregnancy stick. I remember leaving the stick to my husband, because I was too afraid to face to disappointment. Low and behold, we were pregnant. Later that month, the excitement was ripped from us as we found out our little bean had stopped growing at 5 weeks.
November 19, 2016: This day happens to be my younger sister’s birthday. However, this day was the worst day of my life. After about a month of waiting to naturally miscarry, my doctor recommended a D&C – pretty much, an abortion. Doing the procedure in a hospital was almost $2000, money we did not have lying around. I opted for an abortion clinic. I will save this for its own post, but this day was excruciatingly painful. A few hours later, my husband and I went to my little cousin’s volleyball tournament.
February 8, 2018: After years of “not thinking about it,” we figured something was wrong. We started our long journey with a fertility doctor.
June 19, 2018: We transferred our first embryo baby. This was the most pregnant we ever were, and we were so full of hope.
June 29, 2018: We found out our transfer failed, which brought on weeks of depression and hopelessness.
Infertility is hard. Before embarking on this journey I did not choose, I did not know how debilitating it is. I did not know how certain memories, reminders, or dates could trigger an onslaught of emotions to rush in. Some days feel lonely, even amongst my family, coworkers, and friends. It feels as if I talk, and nobody TRULY just gets it. As I blog more, though, and include snippets of this journey, I hope to help more people understand. Because, the reality is that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. 1 in 8 women suffer through infertility. But nobody is talking. It’s time to talk.