It has taken us—well, mostly me—a few months to wrap our heads and hearts around how to share our bad news. I so appreciate the responses and compassion from others before me and those in the journey. You gave me inspiration and hope. When our pregnancy didn't take, I was so afraid to upset you or disappoint any of you—I knew you were rooting for me, for us and for the possibility of a baby.
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.Keep Reading:Read the first part of Heidi's storyA new mother's journey through surrogacySuze Orman: Should I borrow money for fertility treatment?