Something has shifted; it’s all coming back to me now. Memories of the past flash in my mind, as I sit in the two week waiting period to find out if my surrogate Malissa is pregnant with one or both of the embryos that were transferred into her uterus last Friday. I am anxious, nervous, fearful, and hopeful of the results. It’s been a long journey to this place, five years of my body being poked and prodded, and three surrogates just to create a family of our own. That was written last July. I’m sitting at my kitchen table drinking my coffee while Jack and Fiona play with toys in the living room. Now I am raising children. I am a mother. I look back through the writing I did about my struggles with infertility. I was going to post one today. But I wasn’t ready, the works not ready. I need to revisit the experience. The years of trying, the fear, “Is my husband going to leave me because I can’t have a baby.” After every failed cycle, after the miscarriage, having to make the decision to try again or give up. Excruciating, mind bending, insomnia producing contemplations. Joining a meditation class at Kaiser and starting to see a therapist, then finding myself sitting on my meditation cushion wondering who I was. Actually scared, my mind unsure of anything. A facial twitch that turned me into a cyberchondriac, finding out all the diseases I could possibly have. Writing to my doctors every day to tell them my symptoms. I saw a neurologist and had an MRI. I just took a break from writing to change Fiona’s poopy diaper and play “I’m gonna get you” with Jack. I tiptoe over the cheerios, toast, and banana on the floor to get back to my computer. How life has changed. Those years of trying were very isolating. Some of the women in my life didn’t understand because they got pregnant easily, they already had children.  Some of my friends said I shouldn’t keep trying, I shouldn’t have kids at all. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed and rarely told anyone what I was going through. I wanted to reach out to other women going through the same thing but couldn’t find them. I want to reach out to them now and offer some kind of comfort. But that’s not helpful, it’s not helpful to tell someone “Everything’s going to be O.K.” or “It will all work out for the best.” Or the worst, “It’s in God’s hands.” I can only tell my story. It wasn’t easy and I barely made it through the whole experience. It did turn out fine, I have two beautiful babies now, but that’s another thing someone going through infertility doesn’t want to hear about.

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About Dirty Laundry Blog

Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist