Restoring Resilience

It's not you, it's me. After 4 failed rounds of IVF, 2 miscarriages and now a failed embryo adoption, I know that my body is just not meant to carry a baby. It's something I've suspected since early on in this Infertility journey when I had an abnormal sized uterine fibroid tumor. But it's never something I've had medical evidence to support. Doctors have always said "my uterus is beautiful." You would think that would mean it would carry a baby. But difficult transfers due to the ever changing anteverted/retroverted status of my uterus has left even the most gifted fertility specialists feel like their playing: "Where's Waldo." I finally thought we were onto something with a potential blood clotting disorder but after initial tests showed evidence of that, follow up tests put me in the clear. So why did I put myself through the emotional rollercoaster and financial strain again to try to carry a baby when deep down I knew I couldn't?

Because I want to be a mom. 

Because I listened to the doctors who said my miscarriages were due to the makeup of my embryos. 

Because it was another avenue I had to explore. So when it came crashing down this week with a negative pregnancy test that revealed my body's truth, in a way I felt internally vindicated. Of course also along with being devastated, crushed and heartbroken. You know what I didn't need to hear? The doctor who just failed to make my dream come true saying I could potentially try again if I lost 50 lbs. Not only was this not a good time to hear that due to the tears streaming down my face in my emotional breakdown, but it triggered memories of my battle with eating as a teen. When my life was out of control at 16 and I battled briefly with bulimia. So after I stopped crying, got back on my depression medication (because of course I had given up coffee, alcohol and my medicine) for the potential chance of pregnancy, a familiar emotion set it: anger. Women going through Infertility struggle enough with their inner monologue and sense of shame that it's their fault. How dare you, a male doctor, try to make me feel as though this is my fault! Did you say this during my consultation when you were toting your 73% statistic rate? Or how about when you took my $8,000? No, this is the first I'm hearing of my weight being the issue. Could weight be an issue? Yes. Was that the time and way to say it? Absolutely not. I guess bedside manner was not included in your expertise. So I could choose to resonate on carrying a baby being my fault. I could workout and struggle with my diet to try to reach an unattainable weight loss for another chance at the possibility, but I will not. I will restore my resilience, rise up, will somehow manage to come with the $44,000 to go through domestic adoption. And I will be a mom!