farewell 2007 (RIP)

To truly appreciate how awful 2007 has been, you should know how atrocious 2006 was.  The beginning of 2006 was so promising.  I was (finally) pregnant after a year and a half of trying, after major surgery and many doubts.  We thought our lives had turned a corner.  I was into the second trimester, just at the point where we actually thought we might bring this baby home, just as we began to envision his name and nursery.  We were in bliss.  But it didn’t last long, when less than 3 weeks into the new year, the shit hit the fan.  hard.  Suddenly I started spotting and leaking amniotic fluid.  a lot.  I consulted with three experts who agreed that my membrane had somehow ruptured and was unlikely to heal.  Prognosis fatal.  I went on 2 weeks of bedrest and hoped against all odds for a miracle.  Though I try not to put too much faith in experts, unfortunately they were right.  Sadly, I lost our baby boy on February 3, 2006, at 21 weeks (just about 5 months).  My body had failed.  A cruel twist of fate.  To say I was devastated vastly underestimates the power of grief.  It was a hell on earth.  The rest of 2006 was filled with tears, multiple surgeries, and futile efforts to try again.  

Now I know this isn’t supposed to be about 2006, but the point is we just didn’t think 2007 could possibly be any worse.  We thought it can only get better from here, right? 

In 2007, while our friends and family were busy growing their families, we were trying to get back in the saddle, emboldened by my new hoohah (free of fibroids with no visible scarring) and fixed up insides (cleared tubes and corrected adhesions).  We had so much hope for success.  There was no reason this wouldn’t work now.  We tried on our own for a few months.  Nada.  We did 3-4 IUIs between July and October.  Still nada.  We did more tests and learned that the Amazing M’s morphology was not that great.  Crap, yet another obstacle.  We researched IVF success rates.  We explored adoption.  We started domestic adoption paperwork.  We had creative financing discussions.  We stopped planning vacations.  In the meantime, we had several painful anniversaries — marking a year since our heartbreaking loss (which I spent under the knife, yet again), and what would have been our baby boy’s first birthday in June.

On top of it all, in the spring we unexpectedly lost both of our beloved animals who had been the object of our parental love and affection during their stay here on earth — an ornery yet lovable 17 year old kitty and the. best. dog. ever. who left us with no warning at just 5 years young.  Our bond with these amazing creatures ran deep.  He who’d curl up and purr on your lap to heal any hurt.  She who’d never fail to greet you with sheer joy, or to lick away my tears.  The sudden loss of our sweet pup was especially heartbreaking.  The most gentle being who loved loved loved babies, we just could not wait for her to meet and love ours.  As we lost our most faithful and loving friends, we realized this left us quite alone, for the first time since the Amazing M and I had been together…

Yet life went on.  While we battled every obstacle we encountered.  While we grieved every loss.  While we remained stuck.  While everyone we know who wanted a child — and even a few who hadn’t planned to yet — conceived or had one, or more.  And while our hearts were aching, we watched our friends grow ever more distant… Few understood or acknowledged our struggle.  Rare was the kind compassionate word or offer of support.  Gone were the genuine inquiries.  Perhaps after so long people simply didn’t know how to deal with us anymore.  Maybe they were just tired of hearing bad news.  We watched as those we loved grew uncomfortable about our situation.  Family and friends.  Even colleagues and strangers.  I felt as if we had a black cloud hanging over our heads.  I wondered what karmic cycle was playing out.  What other life lessons we still had to learn before we could nurture a living child.  

We had such little support.  I was grateful for a small network of friends I had encountered online who had also suffered late term losses.  Though our tragic misfortune brought us together, the connection I found with these extraordinary women I knew only “virtually” was astounding.  But in “real” life, the Amazing M and I felt alienated, grew isolated, and sought refuge in each other and in our cocoon.  We grew even closer, as a couple who experience tragedy or crisis inevitably must if they are to survive.  Grateful to have someone in the world who understood, we cherished each other and remained devoted to our dream.  And we said we would get through this. 

And so here we are today, on the edge of our last hope, our final frontier, taking a chance on a dream that has yet to come true.  Here we sit on the edge of the future — the unknown, the unknowable — and peer over the edge, willing ourselves the strength and grace to dream and soar, wherever we may land… 

May 2008 bring us all closer to our dreams…

and so I bid farewell (and an extra special good fucking riddance) to 2007! 

What are you saying goodbye to in 2007?  What are your dreams for 2008? 

~ by luna on December 27, 2007.