“Can we afford this?”
“Can I mentally survive it?”
“Will we be able to look at each other later and be happy with our choices?”
When I searched for similarities, I formed some of the very best friendships I’ve ever had.
Which reminds me of a story (and I promise I’ll give you the news here shortly):
Back before my journey with MCRM started, I was reaching out to any and every infertility and mommy blogger I could find. This was on the heels of writing The Two Week Wait Challenge, a book that came to me one day while I sat at my kitchen island answering emails. It poured from my fingers and out onto pages in less than 48 hours. It was short and funny and helpful, and I thought couples trying to conceive would benefit from it, even though my blogging experience and advocacy work was in an unrelated field up until then.
This is when I met my friend Justine Froelker because, in searching Amazon’s infertility books, I found her first book, Ever Upward. I had no idea she was from St. Louis or that, upon finding her website, I’d ask her to meet me for a sushi date the following week. Even less obvious to me is that we’d see the depth of one another’s souls that day and embark on a friendship that would inspire both of us. We shared our stories and heartbreaks and talked about how they shaped us into the people we were in that moment, and I knew she understood I was about to start an infertility journey that would likely shape me into a new person (again) and that it was scary as hell and exciting, too.
I released my book on August 31st, the day I signed paperwork with MCRM, and sent a few silent shouts toward the sky, asking the universe for just a little assistance. I didn’t know where I was about to walk on this path, but I knew I’d put one foot in front of the other and try.
That’s when the real journey began for me. We knew this was our last shot at having biological children, and so we knew that we’d have answers in the end, even if we didn’t like them.
***You can read my previous blogs to see what happened along the way.***
If you don’t know my friend Justine, you won’t know that she decided to end her journey with infertility treatments after two failed rounds with a gestational surrogate. Justine now works in the infertility world to help couples going down this path, even though it didn’t end in the hoped and paid for babies she wanted. Justine is a powerhouse and one of the best listeners I’ve ever met in my life.
So, as transfer got closer and as she checked on me during my TWW, I don’t know why I started to fear what would happen to our relationship if I got the BFP she stopped chasing.
Would our friendship be one that would only last for this short chapter of my life?
I worried. I felt ashamed. And I felt a lot of guilt around how people would react to my news one way or another.
If I’m not pregnant, how do I console those who are invested in my story while I’m mourning?
If I am pregnant, how do I deal with knowing I have what so many others want?
I never expected to feel these complex emotions before having beta results, but they cropped up quickly and planted themselves in my heart. I knew from the moment they arrived that I wouldn’t be getting rid of them so it wasn’t worth fighting it.
Then, two days after finding out my results, my best friend Huckleberry died unexpectedly. My loss added grief and I forgot how to breathe. Huck was my 10-year old dog who survived my abuser beside me and was the only living creature who witnessed every second of my recovery. He loved me through two traumatic chapters of my life, abuse and infertility, and I swear to you that dog was a soulmate to me.
After, I needed time for myself: to understand and process and mourn. Once I had a handle on myself, the weeks carried on and I didn’t want to add to the complex emotions other people would be feeling around NIAW and Mother’s Day. This time of year can be really freaking tough.
Weeks kind of fly by when you’re waiting for the perfect moment and – really – the perfect moment doesn’t exist. No matter when I share my news, someone reading this will feel complicated emotions for themselves. That’s the nature of infertility. It’s no different than when I started this journey.
I vowed to be raw and real from the onset of this series, and so I’m here, wishing there was a magic way to say what comes next so that everyone reading could feel my joy instead of their devastating hurt.
I am pregnant.
I am pregnant and I’m equally happy and terrified because of it, but I’m learning how to find the joy in this complicated place by talking to the two beautiful babies who are growing in my belly, even as I type this.
“Hey kids,
It’s mom again.
I know you’re probably already tired of me doting over you, but I’ve waited a long time for you to be here with me. Last Friday I saw both of you in there, your arms and legs awkwardly beginning to flail around. It was the most magic thing I’ve ever witnessed. Truly.
You guys are sitting on top of one another, but your heads are always close. I like to think it’s because you find comfort in having one another and not because you’re complaining about my singing voice. Either way, it’s dang cute.
We are getting ready to go on a new adventure together, with new doctors and new milestones. It’s your first graduation! I just want you to know I think you’re the greatest thing your daddy and I have ever accomplished as a couple.
I’ve always promised myself that when I got pregnant I wouldn’t be the woman who would complain about it, because – hi – I fought like hell to get here. So, I won’t (at least not here), but I will ask for your permission to tell you about the dehydration and trips to MCRM to get fluids later in life, probably around your birthdays when I’m reminiscing. And please give me grace because I will inevitably annoy you with my stories, but you’re already challenging me to be a better momma.
I know we aren’t totally out of the woods yet. In fact, you’re only 10 weeks today. But if you keep growing in there, then we’ll be able to meet face-to-face sometime around Thanksgiving. And you don’t want to miss the holidays at the Fischer household because momma puts up four Christmas trees. FOUR. This year I’ll dedicate one to each of you and one to my Huckleberry, a boy you’ll hear all about when I force you to read Mark Twain and then talk about my pup.
Your grandmas and the rest of your family are so very excited to meet you two too, so prepare to be overwhelmed by love. You already have a Gigi and Pawpaw, and even an Aunt Gaga. Soon, everyone will have silly nicknames. You’ve been warned (and I’m not sorry).
I love you as much as I did the moment I dreamed you into existence, the moment you became real in my heart, the moment I became your momma.
Enjoying this complicated part of life with you,
XO”
My friend Justine was as happy for me as she could have been. That woman is one of the best I know. And so, friends, I’m learning how to hold (multiple) new truths right now with her help. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without her.
I am pregnant.
I am equally happy and terrified.
I am supported and loved.
I am ready for the next chapter (even though leaving MCRM and Lindsay feels like a punch to the gut).
Wherever your journey takes you, I hope you’ll find the joy in it, because the pain and frustration are so easy to find. It might take longer for you to get the results you want, or maybe you’ll change your mind about what you want in the long run. Either way, it’s okay to feel happiness and frustration at the same time. It’s okay to be mad and happy, no matter how counterintuitive it feels.
To each person who has reached out, read, or even really hated these posts, I thank you for being a part of my journey. You’ve taught me a lot whether you realize it or not. Of course, I’m learning that a pregnancy isn’t the end of a story but – instead – the end of one very big, very powerful chapter.
This is the close of mine here with you, but I sure do feel lucky for our time together.
Until we meet again,
Lindsay]]>