Close, but no cigar…

I’ve been thinking about my miscarriages.

Well, the loss is always on my mind… but I am thinking lately from a different perspective. I’ve come to the conclusion that the drive to keep going is due, in part, of almost succeeding.

Think about this. If you play the lottery, and you spend $10 on one of those mega jackpots and LOSE, it’s easy to just walk away thinking “maybe next time”. You might play every week, but the money lost is secondary.

So, continuing with this analogy… what if you were a finalist in a huge giveaway, and you had a 1 in 4 chance of winning the jackpot. And then maybe the pool is whittled down to JUST you and someone else. You have a 50% chance of winning.

And you lose.

Does it hurt more than that 1:1,000,000 chance? Yeah, it does.

To come SO CLOSE and lose? It’s a blow to the psyche.

Now, think of yourself having those great odds in the second scenario, and picture yourself losing five times in a row.

It’s no wonder I’m screwed up.

I mentioned that S. and I are weighing options. Well, truth be told we had maybe two conversations about it and then decided to wait until after the holiday to get down to business. I am damn tired of of all this ruining the last 4 Christmases. Sick of it.

In fact, I was scheduled to have the follow-up appointment with the RE today from my failed FET. I rescheduled to next week simply because I don’t want to talk about it today. Nurse T basically told me that my insanely poor thaw was a first for their clinic. That my bad luck was a random occurance that never happened before IN THE HISTORY OF THE CLINIC. I decided to make the consult with Dr. Nerd and lay it out on the line. Just not today.

Drilling it down:

Another Donor Cycle
We are all cash now. No insurance. If I am crazy enough to lay down a wad of cash, I’m going to do it at a better clinic. I’ve done some inital research, and am pondering a couple clinics within driving distance from Jersey. One intriguing option exists at Shady Grov.e in the DC area. If you cycled there (especially if you did the Donor program) I want to hear from you. Likewise, if you cycled at IVF.NJ.

This is not an alternative to Option #1, in fact, we are leaning heavily this way at the moment. I researched the hell out of the International route about a year ago, and let’s face it… there’s nothing going on there. Even for the countries we qualify for, the wait is excruciatingly LONG.    I can’t do that.

Domestic adoption is something we never really explored in-depth, but we intend to dive in. There are some local agencies I’ve heard good things about… but if you have a recommedation… PLEASE e-mail me!

Embryo Adoption
This is the least costly of the options, but considering my last disaster of an FET, I am not hyped up about this at all. Too much legal crap and money for a low odds of it working.

Of course- our last path is stopping treatment, halting the bleeding out of money, and hanging up our hat. It is reality now, and as much as I wish it wasn’t… it may be our final decision to escape the infertility hamster wheel for good.

So much to ponder…  so much.

Got any lottery tickets??

post signature

The last chapter…

For the inquiring minds: I tested this morning. I stared back at nothing. Not even a whisper of a line.

Please, do not tell me it’s too early. It’s not.

So this is what it feels like to really fail at something. To exhaust every path, to endure every last available technology.  To pump myself full of chemicals that have god knows what affect down the road.

Almost five years of misery. Five years of loss. Five years of chasing a dream only to come up empty.

Empty in mind, body, spirit, and finances.

No next step. No back up plan to the back up plan.

Just sadness, regret, and unbearable pain.

post signature


October 15th is like a ticking time bomb for me. It’s a reminder that I am still in the trenches of infertility and loss.  I will always be no matter where my journey ends.

I’ve blogged on this day over the years, and each time I do… I feel emptiness reflecting back on such sorrow.  For the first time since the start of my infertility journey in 2005, I did not experience a pregnancy loss in the last year.  In fact, I haven’t even had a pregnancy since February 2008. 

The RPL’er looking for one good egg now can’t even get pregnant with a good egg.

How rich in irony that is.

Please take some time today to consider that while some of us are very much “out of the infertility closet” (bloggers, anyway) that many women do not have a place like this to vent, and cry, and commisserate with others.

Show compassion. 


Sometimes the ugliest scars on a person who has experienced loss are not visible.  Sometimes they are hidden very well. 

It does not mean they don’t exist.

Peace today to all of my sisters-in-loss,

post signature

Hope Floats

Hope and I… we’ve had a very twisted relationship.

I remember back to the days when I thought I would always be the lucky one. I never “hoped” for anything really… I just “expected”.

In fact, if we are being brutally honest, when I look back on my life so far, I’ve had a bit of an easy ride. I took much for granted. And along the way, I was able to mow down any roadblock standing between me and any goal I set out to do.

Done and done. Everything had a fix.

I distinctly remember (after my 2nd miscarriage) having a total meltdown. How dare I be denied anything? Me? Are you kidding me??

I would shake my fist in the air and challenge the universe to stop me from succeeding.

[Picture Scarlett O’Hara… “As God is my witness… I will
never be (barren?) again!”
Ok, I fudged the barren part.]

But you know what? The universe still kept on slinging sh!t at me.

Which made me even more angry. The anger spilled over into everything I touched.

And then, something changed.

I became a weepy, introspective vision of my former self. I took off the battle gear and laid down my weapon.

I gave up.

Or so I thought.

I started hoping instead of fighting. I lit candles and prayed. I begged. I bought countless boxes of tissues and cried more than I ever have in my life. I made plans and then “hoped” they would work. I never assumed anything ever again.

With S. we set a plan. Do this, then that. And if we fail, then this. And then if that doesn’t work resort to Plan X,Y,Z. And then…

..and then?

So, seriously… when people outside of this blog hear my sob story of five miscarriages and failure… often they will comment about the strength I have to keep moving forward. And I hate that, because I don’t see myself as strong. Resilient? maybe. Strong? far from it.

At the root of it, I’ve held on to Hope. It’s been the ONLY THING that has gotten me from point A to point B. The only thread of consistency throughout all these years. And then it dawned on me…

Hope is strength in disguise. Just not as obvious.

So instead of wielding an ax ready to fight, I sit here at my desk holding onto Hope.

Even after everything…

post signature