I've taken a long, much needed- not by choice- break. Our fertility journey has been put on hold for just about two years as I deal with some unknown health issues. Doctors are still unfortunately searching for answers, but in my gut I feel like we're getting closer and closer to finding a diagnosis. I go to Mayo Clinic in May and have some appointments before then so hopefully this long drawn out saga is coming to an end. Which will then bring me back to the other saga...infertility.
Taking a two year break has given me plenty of time to do some thinking. In fact, I think about it every single day. It's the first thing I think about when I wake up- and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. The unknown has taken its toll on me. Just when I think I'm getting a grip on things something will happen and I'll take ten steps back.
Around the holidays I thought I came to terms with the fact that this is it for us. We will always be a family of three. I struggled with the decision, cried privately and lost more sleep then ever before. Olivia is four, almost five and the thought of starting over is a bit daunting. I wanted children close in age. 5-6 years is a bigger age gap than I ever hoped for. In my head it just doesn't work.
How would we break the news to Olivia? How long will it take for her little broken heart to mend? Will she cry herself to sleep? Will she be jealous of other kids? Will she always wonder what it would be like to have a sibling? These are the questions I ask myself every day. I'd look for signs as a symbol that hope was still alive- that there's still a possibility, but I never saw anything. No signs. My hope was gone. I knew that one day Olivia would ask why not and that we would be able to assure that we did everything. We tried everything. We got close, so close. It just wasn't in the cards for us.
So I made my decision. No more trying. Priority is getting my health in order and never take a single day for granted with our sweet Olivia. I sat in the shower and cried my eyes out. One day I'll be able to breathe easy again. I told myself to be proud that we survived everything we've endured and that we've come out as a stronger family.
A few months came and gone and I woke up to Olivia jumping on me telling me that I had to get up...it was my birthday. She was beside herself and wanted to get to celebrating. A few minutes later she demanded that I go look out the window. Her voice was filled with excitement and she started yelling at me to go look at the birds in the backyard. She said, "Mom! There's three of them!" As soon as she said "three", I shot out of bed and walked to her playroom where I could get a good view of our backyard.
There they were. Three birds. Three different birds. Walking across the lawn together. How fitting.
You see, when our three babies died during our pregnancy with Olivia, Don & I said that birds would be our symbol for them. In Olivia's bedroom we have three birds on her wall looking over her bed. I'd like to think that they are her guardian angels. When I'm down or I need a pick me up- it seems like I always see three birds together- and they're always different birds which is fitting because our babies were not identical. Olivia doesn't know about the babies or the symbol for birds. One day we will tell her, but not until she is older.
I stood at the window and watched the birds and of course my eyes immediately welled up. It was so nice to see them- to feel them again. When I eventually made my way downstairs I looked out the window again to see them sitting on our fence looking toward the house. Don wondered if they were hurt. He said he's never seen a bird just lay there on the fence. I knew they weren't hurt- they were exactly where they needed to be and I loved every second.
Later that night I thought to myself that maybe it was a sign. 1. a sign that they're still with us and 2. a sign to not give up. Maybe those birds were the signs of hope that I have been desperately trying to find these past two years.
Last year Olivia asked for a sibling almost every other day. She stopped the past few months with only an occasional comment or two. I always tell her to ask God, but she's getting smart and a little sassy these days and she usually snaps back by saying, "I do. He doesn't listen." I can't argue with her. I feel the same way.
I try to keep Olivia busy. I try to spoil her and always take her out to try new things- or adventures as I like to call them. I try to make up for the what we can't give her. Maybe you agree with my parenting- maybe not...I don't care, but I do my best and I feel like if I keep her busy and entertained then she won't feel the void in her life.
A few nights ago I gave Olivia a bath and started to brush her hair. She has half curly, half straight hair and it's always tangled. I told her that her hair reminds me of her Aunt Taylor when I use to brush her hair when she was little. She asked me if I was Taylor's mom and I said, "Nope...she's my sister." She then asked if Aunt Carrie was our Mom and I said, "No...she's my sister." I could see her face in the mirror as she was trying to make the connection she said, "so...they're both your sisters?" I almost said no. I felt an immediate guilt, but knew I needed to answer her as her eyes were deadlocked with mine. I quietly said yes and that's when she looked at me and said "Wow...you're so lucky". I nodded my head and didn't utter a word. I know how lucky I am- which is why I struggle so much with the fact that she may not have what I have.
I was hurting pretty bad that night and the first person I text was my sister. We went back and forth a little bit and then I was off to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night (as usual) and saw that I had a text from my sister saying she loves me. Olivia needs to have that too.
I don't know what's going on with my health. I don't know if it's something that can be fixed or something that I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life. Doctors have advised that if I were to get pregnant I may end up feeling worse than I already do. My bigger concern is that it could be some hereditary- which if it is we won't try again. If it's not, and the Mayo doctors give me the green light, then Dr. Binor will be the first phone call I make.
I don't ask for much, but I'm asking that you say a little prayer. Though my faith as been tested and I've had words with the big guy upstairs, I still need all of the prayers I could get. Pray for answers and pray for my Olivia. Every kid deserves a partner in crime.
Until next time...
