On the last day of 2009, I got the news of that eighth attempt at in vitro fertilization had failed. Instead of staying home under the covers, we spent the night with a dear friend who is a single dad with two beautiful daughters. He had been on the journey too. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, my husband, Darren, and I chose to celebrate the new year with our friend—his first with his girls. Somehow, somewhere I knew my dreams—although they haven't come true just yet—will, when it's time, in God's time. The right time; not my time. That was the lesson: I cannot and could not control this.
The lesson for me is clear: It's not how to have a baby that matters—it's having a child, at least for me, that does. I decided to let go. I knew that I couldn't go backward. It was time to move ahead. And I knew I had some emotional cleaning to do.
I was able to connect and close the wounds from childhood that disconnected me from my mother and finally understand the why I needed to go through this experience. As I wrote in a previous story, I was adopted as a child and struggled with that as a child. And, honestly, as an adult too. I had not come to terms with it and kept finding ways to get adopted again—seeking love and connection, even with those who didn't deserve it.
I was so afraid of being left that the one thing I always have done masterfully is push people away. Fortunately for me, I have a very strong husband who pushes back, calls me on it and would never leave me unless I told him I wanted that. And during this journey there were times I thought about that—not because I didn't love him but because I began to feel that I couldn't give him what he wanted. The truth is, I got so caught up and focused of getting pregnant that it became my sole focus. All the other things that I love—my business, my friends, my family—suffered. Then I finally snapped out of it and hit rock bottom.
Darren pushed me to move ahead. We stopped talking about it and took a much-needed break. It was good—after three years of trying, I needed a break. In fact, I really needed to give myself a break overall, and I finally gave my mom one. When I shared with her the news that our in vitro fertilization attempt didn't work, she said: "It didn't matter how I got you. I got you and I love you, and you are always and will always be my child." After 43 years and probably 100 times of hearing those same words from her, this time I heard her and I felt it.
I look forward to sharing more news with you when there is news to share. Thank you for helping me get to this place and being part of our journey.
Read the first part of Heidi's story
A new mother's journey through surrogacy
Suze Orman: Should I borrow money for fertility treatment?