White. Effing. Folders. 5.18.17

We have…too…many.


As insignificant as it may seem, each of these folders represents a time that we made a visit to the fertility clinic and our plans changed. The first visit…when we learned how much harder conceiving our own biological children would actually be. The third visit…when we were given contracts, instructions, pricing, INFORMATION OVERLOAD on IVF and what it all means. The day of the retrieval when we were sent home with new medication instructions and rules of what to do and what not to do. Then there’s today, the newest white folder with information and options on what we should do next. Information on acupuncture, egg donors, a 13 page egg donor recipient agreement, a profile page to fill out of what we would want in an egg donor….literally choosing “career, marital status, child status….freckles? Rosy-complexion? Curly hair? Some high school? Professional degree?”. Blerg. Is there a box to check for 50% me and 50% Dawson?

We haven’t decided to use an egg donor. We haven’t decided ANYTHING. And while this new information is sort of overwhelming, I think we also feel excited over new possibilities. Crossing the “sorry, you’re not pregnant” hump into the “where do we go now?” hump. I think the obvious choice is taking our time. My body might be a ticking biological clock, but it won’t do me any good to rush into any thing.

But I must admit how super effing weird it is to think that I might not ever have a child that is actually made up of my biological matter. That I might have to choose someone to mix up with my (truly) perfect husband. That one day I might carry that child and then try to figure out how to explain to them what a miracle/cluster-you-know-what their creation really was.

IVF is hard and every decision feels like it’s the hardest one yet, but woe is me, what is life? Our doctor told us today that all of his patients felt like they were making the hardest decision of their lifetime when they decided to use an egg donor, but now, looking back…it got them to where they wanted to be. It got them to the role of parents and holding a baby in their arms. And isn’t that what we came for?




I’ve Been Sadder than This. 5.10.17

My first IVF-induced panic attack came from all of the rolling thoughts in my head while saying to myself “I don’t know what I’m going to do if this doesn’t work”. And you don’t know. There’s no way to know what your reaction is going to be.

We were told on April 28th that our IVF procedure did not work. We were not pregnant. We weren’t shocked. We knew that there were only two possible outcomes…pregnant or not. It sucked more than anything else has ever sucked when we found out we were not, but I’ve been sadder.

I was sadder when the idea of cancelling or delaying our IVF round was brought up halfway through my STIM shots. Dawson was sadder when we were told that, I too, had reproductive issues. That sadness was one that consumed me on those days, crushed me a bit, and made me unable to focus on literally anything else. But on the day of the news that our $18,000, months of effort, and such precisely scientific impregnation process had failed, we felt this weird wave of calmness. A sort of “okay, it’s over”. Not over indefinitely, not our last shot, not the last time we’re going to try…but these few months of what really could’ve been some of the hardest things we’ve ever done, were over. That was it and we had our answer. And we were going on vacation.

Maybe it’s wrong of me to admit, but having the weight of the looming day of the pregnancy test off of our shoulders was huge. I was really looking forward to a drink, coffee without guilt, and working out again. Taking the two week wait off from the gym was pretty awful (and never in my life would I think I’d say that).

Dawson and I had a five hour road trip ahead of us to get to the beach for a week; it couldn’t have been better timed (and it was not intentional). We were able to speak so freely in those five hours about what we could do next. We didn’t stress, we just discussed. We have one more vial of sperm, maybe we do IVF again? Maybe we move straight to adoption? Maybe…we buy a farm and never have kids and instead have the house that everyone wants to visit! We spoil their kids, bond with their kids, and send them back home when we’re ready to be just us again. We didn’t make any final decisions, but it felt really good to talk about all of these things with my husband. I have the best husband.

I won’t forget the day that followed the pregnancy test, though. I felt a way that I can’t describe all that well and that I’ve never felt before. Throughout the whole day, I was functioning, but I cried whenever and wherever. Literally. We went to dinner at our favorite BBQ place, just the two of us, and I started crying into my smoked turkey. Why? I don’t know. No…turkey doesn’t remind me of the babies that never were. I was just overcome with a sadness. I was heartbroken. I think we’re still a little heartbroken.

I told Dawson in the moments shortly after the dreaded phone call that I felt silly. An emotion I didn’t expect. That I felt like we had just been through this HUGE THING that lead to nothing. And many people were going to find out. But of course, he assured me that this was what we had to do. Never would we have dreamed of not doing it. And I felt better.

I want babies. Lots of babies. Lots of little Dawson/Sara babies. I want them now, I want them yesterday, I want them as soon as possible. But I’m back to my normal routine, I’m going to start some new things over the next few weeks, and I’m going to head into these next months of decision-making with the best partner around.

I’ve been sadder than this.




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