The last time I wrote was 19 months ago. While at this moment it seems like yesterday, a lot has transpired since then.
September 2015 – The journey of pursuing motherhood with a partner was not meant to be. Why you ask… it got too complicated. The realities of life appeared and they were too great to overcome.
Making a long story short – the man and I tried to conceive via IVF using my frozen eggs and his sperm. Only one of nine eggs made it and actually fertilized. That one embryo was of poor, poor quality and did not result in a pregnancy.
Once this happened the two of us moved in an opposite direction. I guess that was a sign bigger than any sign. In a time when we should have been there to lean on one another, we were not. In a time when we should have comforted one another, we did not. In a time when we should have grieved together, we did not.
That was September 2015. It was a dark, sad month for me. I was grieving the loss of my dreamed about child and grieving the loss of my budding relationship with this mans child. When I reflect on what made me most sad it was the following:
- The reality that my relationship with this mans child was going to be very different than I had hoped, most likely only from a distance
- I had no more frozen eggs left
- Only one of my eggs made it and it was poor quality
- I was back on the journey to motherhood alone
- I was uncertain of my next step…
I spent the next few weeks somewhat lost and afraid of what was next.
“Do I regret exploring this path?” I have often asked myself that question. No, I do not. I believed that it might be possible for us to co-parent together. I believed I could be a mother to this mans child. I believed this man could be a father to my child. Was this stupid, I don’t think so. I would rather be a believer with open eyes than a constant skeptic.
While I had no clue what my next step was…. I believed I would figure it out.