Today I finally started my blog. I should have done this a very long time ago but I thought that I couldn't give in or give up on my dream. Starting this blog would be giving in to defeat, so....... here I am, defeated.
I've been very sad for days, for months, for years, fighting a battle I would never ever win. I swore I would never give up, and I would finally get the prize if i kept up the fight, but I never did.
All that I achieved was beaten up ovaries, "a PHD in reproductive endocrinology", and endless suffering. Just to become a mom. An event that comes so natural to most women in the world. A natural occurance that normally comes from an enjoyable act of making love, or from plain old sex. But, not for me.
I am not normal. My body is one of dysfunction, one of failure. You see, I can not bear a child, actually, I can not keep a baby inside of my dysfunctional body. I have no other diagnosis. There is nothing is wrong with my ovaries, or my fallopian tubes. I don't have endometriosis. I get my period like clockwork. I just have a crazy overactive immune system. I resent my body, for taking away my dream.
At this time, I am of advanced materal age, but I've been trying to get pregnant for 9 years. Now I am 45. I finally found out just 2 years ago, that even in my 20's, my body would not accept a baby. It would fight it like cancer. I have an overactive immune system. This would be considered good if I get cancer. But you know what? I feel like I've been fighting cancer already, for years, and no matter what I do, I cannot win.
I am tired, battered, broken, and beaten. I am weak.
And now I am looking for some sort of outlet. I need to vent, to scream, to cry, to say, why did this happen to me? What did I do to to be in this hell that I can find no escape? What crime did I commit to be in this prison?
I know that I am a good person with a good heart, but in this fight, it means NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!
So finally, I did it, I started a blog.
I need to vent my frustration, to say: I DID NOT DESERVE THIS INFERTILE HELL THAT I SUFFER IN. Will anyone ever hear me?
Most people will never understand the hell that a hopeful, then hopeless infertile will live through, or not want to live through. Most people don't care or can't be bothered.
I have realized through this battle who my real friends are, and thankfully, there are a few, but very few. My circle has become so much smaller. My heart so much more guarded, and my soul is forever scarred.
Most people think that I should just get over it already, I'm sure. Most people could not have survived the war I have fought and lost.
Most people ignorantly say I should just adopt. A band aid to put on a battle wound.
Most people have all the answers you see. Just replace your biological need to reproduce with an adopted baby. It's that easy, right? Just make a phone call, like going to an animal shelter? What breed would you like, such idiots! I guess that's what they assume? They mean well with their limited capacity of compassion.
They do not know, they do not understand, and they certainly don't have the time to try and get it, because they are busy. They have no time for empathy or compassion. They have more important things in life to spend their time on, like their own children for goodness sakes.
Do you think I sound bitter? Well I am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I never wanted to adopt, I wanted my own biological child, a normal desire that is usually obtained quite naturally, or so I thought.
No one wants to deal with this kind of pain. Especially the person living through it.
Today I start my blog, my story, my nightmare. I start sharing it today, finally.
I never thought this is how my life would end up. All I ever wanted to be was a mommy. Not the president, not a moviestar, just a plain old adoring mommy. But a simple dream like this, not obtainable for me!!!!!!!
I never thought that I would end up involuntarily childless. No matter how hard I fought to achieve my dream. I never thought this would happen to me, but it did.
A quick sypnosis: hell, through 11 ivfs, 4 iuis, a miscarriage of three beautiful triplets.
I was really pregnant after my 10th ivf. Most women wouldn't survive more than 3 ivfs, but I wouldn't give up. I almost fainted when I found out that I actually was pregnant, and with three babies. This wouldn't last for very long, in fact it only lasted for a few weeks. My immune system said no! My immune system attacked!
I enjoyed about 4 1/2 weeks of my life this past November-December 2010. The happiest time of my life, ever. I was pregnant. I had three living beautiful souls growing inside of me and they were all mine!
But that ended quickly. My natural killer cells went crazy, as soon I was weaned off of the dexamethesone, and then bam! The beautiful amazing miraculous heartbeats, did not beat anymore. I broke out in a rash, had a fever, and a few days later, all of my babies were dead!
On December 7, 2010, the day that I thought would be one of the best days of my life,a visit at the high risk doctor's office with the large screen to see my babies, was just the opposite, a sight that I would relive over and over again, one that I would never forget for the rest of my life. This was the day I would see my three babies floating in their sacks, DEAD!!!! And my dream ended..........just like that.
Prednisone might have controled this issue, but I can not tolerate predinisone, the reaction is unbearable, talk about an evil joke.
Who ever thought, I would end up a non-mom? Who ever thought that I would suffer through hundreds of injections, ultrasounds, and blood tests, all for nothing?
Who ever thought I would end up with interstitial cysitis instead of a beautiful bouncing baby? How cruel can life be? Every month before my period, pain from the cystitis, and then my period, a constant reminder of everything I've fought for, and everything I have lost.
Life is very very cruel I have found out. Life is not fair. My arms will be forever empty, and my heart will forever ache. I will never ever forget the one time I was actually a mother, when I carried Ariana, Cassidy, and Baby Jean.
The POC, such a disgusting abbreviation, it stands for Products of Conception, showed that I had a baby girl that had trisomy 15, not compatible with life, so she would have not survived. The other two, who knows, boy or girl? I will never know. They found out nothing. There were three babies, but only information on one.
But what I do know is that I loved them with every second that I grew them in my body, and every breath that I breathed while they thrived inside of me.
I named the other two babies, names that could be either a boy or girl, after my Aunt Claire who had died just a couple of weeks before I conceived, and after aunt Judy who died just a few weeks before.
Ariana was after Audrey, my second mom, who also died just a few weeks before I conceived, one of my biggest supporters, and trust me, there weren't many. She wanted me to have a baby so badly. And Ariana was also named after my daddy Al, I so wanted to keep the bloodlines going.
But there was no happy ending to be had. Not for me....................................
And so I start my blog. My babies died 8 months ago. I just had and failed another IVF. For the first time my embryos didn't even make it to transfer. Another crushing event, right after the babies due dates.
When I say it's hard to keep going, this is an understatement.
When I say, I'm really not okay, I'm not kidding, but I do have a buffer, my friend Grey Goose. And so my story is finally being told.
I have just begun to share my story. I wonder how many others are out there that need to share theirs? If only I could find them.
So finally I start my blog.