There will come a point where you sail away from IF Island, and watch as it gets smaller and smaller...

Momo is asleep in her crib and I can't stop watching the monitor. She's just over 8 months old and the most incredible little human I've ever met. She loves to get into things and crawl up and down the stairs. She loves avocado and pulling leave off trees and wakes up every morning, standing at the edge of her crib with a smile that melts Noah and I. Even though it's 5am, we argue over who gets to get her.  (When we both go in there she's like, "WTF guys, chill, it's 5am, don't overwhelm me.") And I still can't believe she is ours. I have these moments where I still can't believe that she grew inside of me. That parts of her began inside someone else-- two someone elses who we may never know. I can't believe she was vitrified--whatever that means-- in a freezer for nearly 5 years. I could never have imagined that all the steps--every terrible, heartbreaking moment of our "journey" was perhaps necessary so that we could connect with her. Every set back, every failed cycle, every terrible phone call with the RE and every disappointing procedure had to happen perhaps, and I'd do it all again for her. 

I remember getting a drink with my friend Lisa a while back. It was around this time of year, maybe two years ago, and several of my friends were spending the holiday excited to announce their pregnancies to their families. Lisa went through years of fertility stuff and ended up with the kids that were meant to be hers, one through adoption, one through egg donation and surrogacy. I think Noah and I were just totally lost and did know what to do next. And I felt angry. Holiday lights and music and signature drinks were all around and I just wanted to crawl into a hole.  I didn't want to be envious of friends who were making holiday cards that doubled as pregnancy announcement cards, but I was. I didn't want to feel sorry for myself, but I did. And Lisa bought me a drink and a bowl of fries and said two things that helped me feel better. She said, "Fuck your friends," (I feel really bad about this now but at the time it was kinda just what I needed to hear. She went on a bit, like fuck anyone who's pregnant etc...I know, terrible, but...kinda hit the spot), and she said she promised that my "journey" would one day be over and I will be able to not only immerse myself in my baby (which I do) but I'll be able to make sense of some of the journey, and what I can't make sense of (like TONS of medication injected into my body that resulted in nothing) I will be able to let go of. None of it will matter as much and the immediate sadness and confusion and frustration and longing and fear will just start to feel a little dull.

I didn't believe her. I mean, I did believe her, I wanted to believe her, but I couldn't fathom what it would feel like to be immersed in anything but my IVF schedule and obsessing on online egg donor sites. It wasn't my reality to be able to picture sailing away from IF Island. So I relished in her first comment for a while and eventually decided I'd just believe her. One day it won't be so bad.

And that day came. And that day at that bar with Lisa feels like a lifetime ago. Her kids are teenagers and mine is here, with a zest for life and a strength and confidence that is so fitting for her little journey into this world. 

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, only to be a reminder that things change and the hamster wheel of infertility will one day stop. And there will be resolution. And there will be distance. And there will be healing. And there will be love. And hopefully, there will be tiny toes and smiling little monkey who makes your heart sing every moment of every day. 

Sending love and patience and luck and a reminder that one day much of this...crap will be a somewhat distant memory.

Comments

[Giana]

Thank you for continue writing even after you've become a mother. Your posts especially this one reminds me that there is hope and one day somehow someway it will be our turn too.

[aneke]

Thank you for your comments (everyone) :)

In South Africa there are no grants for fertility treatments, and its only something the wealthy can afford (all costs are paid by yourself).. for various reasons adopting through the government is not an option, and private adoption here costs about half of one cycle of IVF (which just isn't doable at this stage). To give you a relative idea, we've spent about half of what our entire home loan is - that we're paying off over 20yrs -so far. Regardless, the thought of starting from square one with a whole different difficult (ie adoption) thing is overwhelming.

I haven't seriously considered embroyo adoption to be honest. If it's financially doable maybe I'll be able to think about it when things are a little less raw. It helps to hear from people that get it, thank you

[Maryann]

Maya, I am due April 25, 2016. Your blog made my darkest days brighter and thanks to it I learned about embryo donation - I am forever grateful. My heart always breaks and goes to those who suffer searching for their babies to come.
In this cruel world of infertility the support of this kind is God send. I felt so misunderstood and alone that only thanks to your blog and resolve website I was able to go through it.

[Don't Count Your Eggs]

Thanks for sharing everyone. So sorry Ashley-- that feeling of coming up empty handed is so crappy and somehow this time of year makes things feel even crappier. Aneke-- I hear ya. I am very aware of how the cost of all this makes continuing not an option. My parents sold artwork for us to do our donor egg cycle and we were lucky enough to get a grant, but if we didn't have these things I don't know what we would have done. It's extremely unfair. You've inspired another post about the cost of it all, but for now I know one blogger/writer who is living child-free and has a very hopeful message, you might check her out: http://everupward.org/author/jlbf4/

Laura-- congrats! I wish you lots of joy and excitement in the year to come. Maryann-- thanks for supporting others out there...I forgot, when are you due?

Love to you all.

[Maryann]

Aneke, we were in similar situation. Failed ivf, miscarriage and out of money. We then went to embryo donation. It is so much cheaper then ivf. We were also ready to adopt from children aid society, if embryo adoption wouldn't work out.
Your fertility clinic most likely have donated embryos.
Don't loose hope. I know it is better said then done but there is hope.

[aneke]

See but for some us there will be no resolution. As in the money has finally run out, and after two years of trying you just miscarried again on your very last hope. The choice to get back on that hamster wheel is taken out of your hands. Where do you go from there? Which isn't a fair question to ask, since happily you are not in that position, I realise. Is there any blog you could recommend? I can't find one who's been where we are, and it might help to hear how someone else coped.

I enjoy your voice and think you write with great sensitivity and understanding, thank you. There aren't many 'happy ending' blogs I can bear to read.

[Laura]

It is hard to believe that one day this will be true. After several failed IVF cycles we moved to egg donor and are now 7w4d P. It is hard to fathom and doesn't seem real AT ALL. Last year at this time, we had found out our last frozen embryo failed and just weren't in the mood for holidays. We can only hope that we will soon be looking back at IF island as just an awful stop we had to make.

[Ashley]

Seriously what I needed to hear. We found out our first IVF cycle failed on Monday, and we had transferred our only two embryos. None to freeze. In two days, of the 28 eggs I had, only two became embryos. And the holidays are HARD. Difficult to endure happiness when all you can think about it is your sadness. But this helped. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.