Here I am, same place I was almost 7 months ago when I started this blog...
Wide-eyed, early in the morning. Ready to let it all out.
Back in June, I wrote the posts...
"Say" and "Paper Airplane and The Truth."
I wrote of the option of sperm donor and why it was so hard for me to just come out and say it.
The reasons, having nothing to do with embarrassment or fear of judgement, and everything to do with grieving and knowing when to close this chapter.
This chapter...
This chapter has been long. It has been trying. Sometimes brutal. Sometimes beautiful. It's been a never ending roller coaster. A teacher. A windy road. A million and one lessons. A million and two tears. A perception changer. A friend. A heart breaker. A comfort. A fighter. A life changing experience.
A love like no other.
I look back on these past two years and there are times it's hard for me to believe all that took place.
Would I change it if I could?
No.
I promise.
I wouldn't.
A year ago, when we found out the news of Steve's inversion, I made a promise to myself...
That if I could handle it, I'd give it another year. Another year to try to get pregnant, basically as many times as we could. That may sound strange, but with the percentages we were given, we knew the odds were against us. I remember sitting in our doctor's office discussing the information...Him telling us we had a chance. That we were a strong couple and most women, after a few miscarriages, move on because they can't handle it. I will always remember him saying that. From that moment, I thought to myself, "No, Maria, You CAN handle this...you can and you will...it will be worth it." I remember looking out the window, clenching my already folded hands together, biting my lip, holding back tears and then turning to look at our doctor. I kept saying, "I can do it. I can give it another year. What do you think? Is that a good time frame?" As I so desperately wanted to believe I could keep the drive and strength...
So desperately wanting to give it my all.
Our doctor smiled and said, "We're going to roll with the punches, you're going to get right back into trying and within time, you'll know if it's time to turn out the lights on this chapter."
It's been another year.
2 more pregnancies after the news. 5 pregnancies total in the past two years. 6 little beans. All lost but always remembered.
It's been one hell of a ride.
And it's time.
Time to turn out those lights.
Time to turn the page.
To new light.
Time for a fresh, new chapter.
There's so much to say...
I have to admit some things I regret saying in the past. Times I've said I wish we never even had the chance...the chance that our DNA could match up correctly. In frustration, I've said, "if our doctor told us we had absolutely no chance, it would make it so much easier." In my saddest and lowest of moments, I've cried, "Sometimes I wish I didn't want to be a mother so badly."
Tears are streaming as I type. Because neither of those statements hold any truth at all.
Who do I think I'm kidding? To become a mother is my deepest desire..What I truly feel I'm meant to be. And I'm so happy for that.
I'm so lucky. So lucky to have the gift of chance. More importantly, the gift of hope. Again and again.
Without hope, where would we be? Without faith, how would I have the strength?
You see, I can be one stubborn girl. All my life, there have been times I wouldn't budge or back down...but for all the wrong reasons.
Not this time.
This time, it was for all the right reasons. It wasn't stubbornness. It wasn't pride.
It was love.
It is love.
"Didn't I give it all?
Tried my best
Gave you everything I had
Everything and no less"
These are the questions we've asked ourselves. With not getting pregnant as easily as last year, I found it to be a battle these past few months especially.
When do I stop? How do I stop? Have I done all I can? Should I go one more time?
Why is it so hard to stop trying?
I've run the possible answers through my head a million times. My mind has never been as telling as my heart.
It was hard to stop trying, because I'm madly in love with my husband. A wonderful man who I fell in love with almost instantly. For his honesty. For his vulnerability. For his passion.
Within a short time, Steve made it clear that his biggest dream was to have a family and be a father. We'd stay up all night and talk. He'd tell stories of growing up...tough, sometimes sad stories. But they always ended with him smiling. Smiling at the chance that he'd have so much more when he became a father and could share that love with his children.
For the past few months, there have been times I've felt I had to defend myself. Not really to anyone but my own self. Asking why I was still on that long road, instead of starting a new one. Feeling like it didn't make sense why I couldn't just "turn off those lights."
I didn't do it to prove a point. I didn't do it to keep a hopeful promise. I didn't do it to be stubborn.
I did it for love.
For Steve. For us.
I did it in good faith.
I don't regret a single second. Not even the craziest of times. The roughest of days. The saddest of tears.
Steve wrote me a long message in my birthday card last month. He wrote that some days he still has so much guilt and pain. He told me, regardless of what I think, our journey is on his mind so often. He wrote of days he sits at work and prays that I'm having a good day. That he just wants us to be happy and have a family, no matter which way we get there. And as I read it with him sitting next to me, I cried and clung to him. We cried together, held hands and promised each other that we would stop feeling so guilty. Him for his inversion. And me, for feeling like I had to keep going.
You see, when you love someone so deeply, so immensely, so passionately...
You want to give them your best. Your all. Everything in you.
Steve and I spent so much time wondering and worrying...did I give my best, my all, my everything...
"If only you knew, everything I do is for you."
We know. Deep down, we've always known.
I wouldn't be me if I didn't go all those times. I wouldn't be so strong. I wouldn't have learned so much and be where I am right now.
It's gonna take some time to really set in. I've got more feelings to let out. More memories to bring a little closure to.
The lights have been turned out. A new chapter has begun.
And our wish for these next few pages are to take some time. Take a breather. Not rush it. Enjoy the holidays and see where it takes us. When I'm feeling the time is right, I will call our doctor for an appointment, maybe even in the next few weeks, so we can discuss it all.
I look back on this chapter and know it will always be a part of me...a part of Steve and I.
And I am so grateful for it. Because, without it, we wouldn't be who we both are today.
This next chapter isn't going to be a breeze. It's certainly not, "snap your fingers and have a baby." It entails a lot. Things, like I said, you never think you're going to have to think of.
But, I know this is where we are meant to be.
And I know in my soul, that someday, when we're blessed with our child, this all will make it that much sweeter.
There's so much more to write. (as if this post isn't long enough)
Letting go isn't easy.
The more I allow myself to feel, the easier it becomes.
Where it doesn't feel like I've completely let go yet, I know it's coming...and I know there will always be a piece of this journey I hold close to me.
There will be more to pour out in the following weeks...
So, with this ending chapter, I say...
Don't take it with anger, or hurt, or fear...
"Take it all with my love."
With Much Love,
