#iam1in4

I don’t think there is a question I loath more than that. I spent some time on YouTube tonight watching feel good clips on Truly. On a video of a couple starting the journey of IVF I see a statement I’ve seen a thousand times before and still cuts just as deep.

“Why is it so important for humans to have a child that looks likes them? Not just this couple but any couple who has infertility issues.Why have a baby? Foster and then adopt a lot of times you can get siblings who need to stay together, build a family not a child.”

Why the fuck not? Why because of the shitty card life dealt me am I forced to not have an option? Why am I not even allowed to try?

Adoption has always been something on my radar, since long before I had even fully matured. Over a decade before I was diagnosed with infertility. It is something I feel in my heart and an avenue I would like to explore one day, should my husband also feel the urge. But that wasn’t my only dream.

For as long as I can remember I wanted to be a mother. That was my lifelong goal and aspiration. It was never anything but that. I wanted 2-3 or maybe even 4 kids. I wanted the white picket fence, and a life dedicated to the carpool lane and on the sidelines of whatever sports they fancied. I wanted to start my family in my early twenties, but life had other plans for me. And, as the saying goes, I’ve learned; you can’t plan kids.

But why is that my only option? It is so asinine to punish the idea of medically assisted pregnancy and see nothing wrong with those without a disease (which infertility is) procreating and not adopting.

Why should we be limited in our choices because of a medical problem? Why is the rest of the world not? Why is how another couple ends up with children even any of your business? Why do I get denied the feeling of a successful pregnancy? Why does my medical condition make me unworthy?

Do you want my grief,

Please for a moment,

Take it please,

Hold it next to your heart,

Feel it burn and tear you apart,

Please I beg of you,

Ease my mind,

Give me sleep for just one night,

Get the flashbacks, The heart stopping pangs,

The helplessness from losing my way,

Can you feel my grief,

Hold it close,

It will bring you to your knees,

Your soul will yell, it will scream,

Can you hear it bellow while it takes your peace,

Your body aches, your mind stands still,

You live in the past, where things were real,

Help me friend,

I ask of you,

Take this grief,

For a day or two,

Just long enough, so I can clear my head,

So I can pretend my child's not dead.

⭐️ 05.06.2016 ⭐️

Loosing our first baby was the most traumatic, emotional, scary, confusing, heart wrenching experience I have ever endured. Our baby stopped growing at 11 weeks and 5 days.

I remember it all so vividly, although I wish I couldn’t.

I worked a full 10 hour shift in agony, as pale as a ghost, denying what was happening to me.

In the hospital I was grasping at any hope that our baby was okay. The doctor wouldn’t give me any pain medication as it could have “harmed bub”, Those words played over and over in my mind. Maybe everything was okay?

The next 12 hours in hospital were the worst of my life. Finally, at 1am, I was wheeled in for an ultrasound. And there it was. A short glimpse of my baby on the screen before the technician quickly turned it away from me. An image I’ll never be able to mentally erase.

“I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat”.

I saw it, my baby, my baby was real, my baby was right these inside of me, but my baby had no heartbeat.

“We will do surgery in the morning, try and get some sleep”. I don’t know how I was possibly expected to sleep.

The next night I was discharged out of hospital, without my baby still growing inside of me. Like nothing ever happened.