One. Long. Year.

12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. 1 year.

It's been one long, devastating, draining year. I'm exhausted, mentally drained, my body is sore and my heart aches. It's been an entire year of IVF treatments. Four to be exact. 1 fresh cycle. 3 frozen cycles. The only results we have received is one ectopic pregnancy, one miscarriage and two broken hearts. 

I guess you can say this is a pretty sad and depressing start to a new blog. It's my first entry, I'm one paragraph in and the tears are flowing. So, why start blogging now? Well, I'm a hot, emotional mess and my brother suggested that I start writing about my experience with hope that maybe I can help someone else facing the same pain I have been facing. Not only that, but my therapist charges a pretty penny so starting a blog is probably a cheaper way to talk about my feelings without draining the bank account. 

I won't always be an emotional mess on this blog, at least I hope not. That's not the goal. But my emotions are warranted. Last week I received the gut wrenching phone call that my HCG dropped and my body is starting to miscarry. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. Most people didn't even know we were pregnant. With all of the disappointment we have faced in the past, it didn't make sense to tell our secret until we knew it was "safe". And in my heart of hearts, I knew this wasn't it for us. I knew we were never going to reach the "safe" point. That instinct didn't help the blow I faced when my nurse called to deliver the news. That instinct didn't prepare me for the day I was told that once again, my body failed me. That instinct didn't prevent me from throwing myself on the ground kicking and screaming until I was too tired to function. My heart is broken, not just for me but for my husband and mostly, my daughter. 

If you don't know me, I am the proud mother to the most beautiful two year old little girl in the world- Olivia Hope. Her story is special and someday soon I'll share it on this blog. She is living proof that miracles do happen and it's because of her that I get out of bed and keep moving forward. More than anything I've wanted a second child not just for my own selfish reasons, but for the fact that I want my daughter to have a sibling. I want her to experience life with a partner in crime, a best friend, a confidant. 

I guess that's another reason why I started this blog. After every failed IVF attempt someone (with good intentions) is bound to say, "well at least you have Olivia!"

I hate when people say that to me. There is not a day that goes by that I don't know how big of a miracle my child is. There is not a day that goes by that I don't thank God for making us her parents. But, the fact that we are trying for a second child doesn't make things easier. It doesn't prevent heartache and it's not fair to say "at least you have Olivia". We shouldn't be limited to one child. My child shouldn't be limited to being an only child. I don't like when people say "it's not fair". I always feel like there is someone out there who has it more difficult than we do, but in this case it's absolutely not fair. It's not fair to the mother who longs to have another newborn fall asleep on her chest, it's not fair to the father who was born to have a room filled with children and it's not fair to the child who, without a doubt, would be a great big sister. 

Writing this blog is a big step for me. Although everyone thinks they know everything about my life, my fertility issues is one thing I've always kept private. I share with those I know won't hound me with questions. I share with those I know won't hurt my feelings by saying something stupid like, "at least you're young!". I share with those who care. 

Last week I sent a text to my siblings (I have two sisters and a brother). I said, "I was pregnant. Now I'm not." How else do you tell your best friends that your heart is broken and you need them to know because although I didn't want any phone calls, I needed them to know I was hurting. My brother left work and drove straight to my house that night. I didn't want company, but there was something about seeing him walk through the door where I thought, "for the next hour or so that he is here, I can fall apart and he'll be here to pick me up when I fall". We laid in my bed and he let me cry until there wasn't a tear left to give. He told me he admired my strength. I thought it was kind of funny- what strength? I'm sitting here clenching your arms, hoping you don't leave me and you think I'm strong? I didn't see what he saw- and I still don't. When I was trying to get pregnant with Olivia, I had enough courage, determination and strength to start an army. This time around...after every IVF attempt, I break a little more, I cry a little more and I lose hope- a little more. 

The night I laid in bed with my brother he told me to cry it out and then get it together. 1) I have a two year old who needs me and 2) the disappointment and heartbreak has taken a toll on me as a person that it's time I start living life again. 

I guess that's where this blog comes in. I'm not embarrassed that I have fertility issues, I just tend to not talk about it. It saves me from sharing disappointing news to so many people. That and I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me. With that said, I find that the more I talk about IVF and our story, someone comes forward telling me that I helped them get through their day. So maybe telling my story (which there's plenty to tell), will help a few more people while I try figuring out what the future will look like for my own family. 

Continue on with me on this journey...people who go through infertility need the support and the understanding. And, if you're one who suffers with the same heartache I've suffered with- please know that I'm here for you. I'll be your friend and I'll hold your hand because I get it and chances are, I've been there. 

Until next time...