Wednesday, August 14, 2013


If you have ever had surgery, you know that your doctor is required to go through all the risks, including the risks of anesthesia. He usually says something about having never had anyone not come out of anesthesia, but he has to tell you that there is a one percent chance (or so, probably less) that that can happen. You nod and sign on the dotted line for him to do the surgery. It isn't until you are just about to go under that you really appreciate that that 1% was a person, not just a number. That it affected their lives. That is how statistics are, they are helpful, but can blind you to the fact that it equates to real lives.

That is how I feel now. There was a 97.2% chance that I would be pregnant by now given my specifics. And yet, still no baby in sight, another failed month, another test with one line. When I heard the numbers, I never really even considered that I would be in the 2.8%. I mean, the other percentage was so high it seemed practically guaranteed. But of the blue million (but probably closer to 100) pregnancy announcements I've seen and heard of since we started trying there are two other women who are as heartbroken as I am. My heart breaks for those two women too.

Soon I am going to write a post about why all this waiting and trying is okay, because I know in my head I know that it is, but my heart is hurting. I am mourning for all the things that could have been and all the babies that I didn't manage to conceive. I'm sad because my doctor says (or said when I last saw him, I go again next week) that IVF is the only option left to us. Josh is concerned that if we don't try it then we may never have biological children, but neither of know if we should go down that path since it could be at the expense of the child we hope to adopt. It's so many big decisions about a process that comes so naturally to other women, it happens accidentally to so many!

Josh and I will be okay and we'll pull through this fine because we have to and because so many other before us have. Doesn't mean it's fun though and it doesn't mean we aren't sad that our efforts and our doctor's are failing. Tomorrow is a new day, hopefully with fewer hormones!

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