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Hope and infertility don’t belong in the same title; I know that. I lived that. Yet, I can also tell you they are inseparable. Each cycle, each time you find yourself in your “fertile” time, each time you countdown the days post ovulation, your heart fills with hope. You can’t help it because you want that + hpt test, you want to be pregnant, you want a baby. So you hope.
Then, you pee on that hpt. You wait, kind of, for it to develop. You take million close up pictures of it and play with all the different settings in hope that you can pull that elusive second line that means “You’re pregnant.” And, even as hope starts to die because the test is stark white, a small glimmer of hope remains, because maybe, maybe you tested too early. Maybe tomorrow will yield that beautiful second line. So, the next day, you wipe. No blood? Whew, renewed hope. Test again. Repeat the whole process. Then, it happens. It’s not over until your period comes, and it comes.
You cry. You had hope. You did all the right things. You did all the crazy things. You did all the research and all the home remedies, all the things….so you hide, and if you are at all like me, you hide, sitting on the toilet, staring at the blank white hpt on your lap and between your legs, at the drops or gush of blood that is in the water. And you cry. You had hope, and now that hope is gone as blank as that terrible hpt. You stifle your sobs, so your husband doesn’t hear, and you cry and wonder why.
Funny thing is, once your period is gone, you start, once again, checking your fertility levels: checking your basal body temperature, checking your cm, looking for ferning patterns in your saliva, even going to your OB or RE for ultrasounds or prepping your body for an IUI or doing injections or medicines or the acupuncturist, or all of these and more, because, it’s a new cycle. You want a baby. You want to be pregnant. So, hope starts to build up again.
It’s a vicious and hard cycle. Not everyone can do it long term. And what is long term to one, is different for another. For 4 years, I did this cycle. Three miscarriages. Countless ovulation sticks and home pregnancy tests (thank goodness for the dollar store!). All of this to have a third child. So, this fact makes my story different. I know. I had fertility issues having my first child, but that’s another story. My two oldest girls were in middle school when I started this process, and I was 41. My heart wasn’t done having kids. I regret that I waited so long, but it is what it is.
So at 45, I was at the end of my hope. I didn’t know what else to do and my age certainly was against me. My husband and I are both teachers, so no infertility insurance and really not much extra disposable income. IVF and egg donors were out of our budget, especially because we already have two beautiful, smart, wonderful girls.
But my heart. Oh, I needed another. My body just didn’t agree. I then found this quote by the author Judith McNaught: “There will be a few times in your life when all of your instincts will tell you to do something, something that defies logic, upsets your plans, and may seem crazy to others. When that happens, you do it. Listen to your instincts and ignore everything else. Ignore logic, ignore the complications, and just go for it.” I was old. I had three miscarriages. I’ve tried everything. . .but my instincts said there was something out there, I just hadn’t found it yet.
So, HOPE. It came back. I researched and dug around and then I found out about embryo adoption. As soon as I read about it, I KNEW. I knew that was the path I needed to take. I researched, reached out to companies and agencies, and found my answer. For me, I ultimately chose ReProfit in Bruno, Czech Republic. I contacted them, filled out the papers in April, got matched with embryos a week later, accepted the offer, and began the process of making sure my womb would be the most welcoming place for the embryos to grow and ultimately be born as my own.
That story, is a longer story. I had two embryos transferred, but only one grew, but as much as I morn the early loss of the one, I cherish what I did get: another beautiful daughter. She isn’t genetically “mine,” but she is MINE and all the more precious because of the journey I had to take to get her.
Hope doesn’t have to be a nasty word when dealing with infertility. There are all forms of hope to get you to your end goal — a child or deciding that you want to let go of that — and you know what those are because people tell you. I’m not telling you what to do or how to do it. This story is simply to say that when I discovered this avenue to my goal of having another child, I knew it was the answer for me.
My heart goes out to every person who has dealt or is dealing with infertility. I hope (yes, word choice intended), that whatever path you choose to go on will keep your hope alive and result in seeing that hope birthed into reality.
In kindness & peace. ☮
♥️Dear Baker
