Frozen in Time

ali 1

Take away this pain

Silent and steady

Bubbling now with more frequency

One moment I am a fighter

As strong as Ali

And in a blink of an eye, after one innocent reminder, I collapse in despair

I believe we can

And then I don’t

I see her fuzzy sweet smelling head, soft to the touch, her big brown eyes

And then she’s gone

Tears won’t even fall anymore-perhaps they are all used up

Feelings of inadequacy, loss, angst, and fear compound and materialize as my sense of direction becomes frozen in time

This pain inside gets louder, more intense, as the center of my heart becomes strained and burdened with the anticipation of deciding what to do next

IVF, for me, represents the last attempt of having our biological child

If we pursue IVF and the procedure does not work-then what?

Perhaps I am still in denial, but I truly believe we will conceive on our own

I wonder if this belief is stronger because my desire to conceive is more heartfelt, or if it’s more transparent because my fear of IVF and what it represents to me that makes me avoid the act all together?

I feel as if I am on a teeter totter that never allows me to fully put my feet on the ground

Here I am suspended in space; waiting and anticipating

I long for this to be over

But my longing and desire for our child is even greater; forcing me to put one foot in front of the other and keep on moving


Two Years Ago Today…

Two years ago today….

I found out I was pregnant with our child.

I still remember watching that second pink line forming and then getting darker and darker.

I could not believe my eyes and immediately my heart started racing and I began to shake.

The immediate joy that I felt upon seeing that second line is indescribable; I still remember the proud look in my dear husband’s eyes when I told him our joyful news after racing down the stairs…Oh… I would do anything to see that look again from him, just one more time.

Two years later, to the day, I sit and reminisce with hot tears rolling down my face. I look up from my desk and see our one and only ultrasound picture placed snuggled amongst other photos on my memoir board.

Yes days like this are bitter sweet.

Sweet because of the fond memory of first finding out that I was pregnant and bitter because I am shook to reality of the reminder that it has been two whole years since my first taste of motherhood.

And still no baby in our arms.

Two…. years.

The longing, heartache, and feelings of loss don’t go away … but today I choose to be happy as I remember the specialness of this date, November thirtieth. Honestly, last year on this day I don’t even think that I could get out of bed, I felt that low. Yes, I have come a long ways on this journey, I still hurt, but today I will smile knowing that I am yet another day closer to our child.

She is close. Very close.

This I know.





No tears fall.

But they need to.

For my heart aches. And aches some more.

Another cycle, another negative pregnancy test.

How can this be?

Another season soon to pass, and we are still not able to tell our family and close friends that we are pregnant.

I am numb at this point of my journey. In my heart deep down, I just know I will have a child one day, for I feel as if my child is already here with me, I see their eyes, feel the softness of their eyelashes, hear their laughter in my empty house. But yet, another cycle goes by and nothing. What am I being tested for? What is God’s plan for us? I have always been told I have a great amount of patience… but this…. so much time has passed since our miscarriage.  So much time.  My patience is surely being tested. It’s been 20 cycles…oh my goodness.



Days like this I need to dig deep.

Deeper than yesterday,  the day before that, and even the day before that.

Days like this I want to go into hiding. Hide from people with their growing families, hide from Facebook with the melodrama posts and endless flow of baby pictures and baby bumps, from busy parks full of meandering children about to play their first soccer game of the season. I just want to close my blinds, shut my door  and hide from the  world today.

For I feel like everyone who sees me- will be able to see right through me, right through to my soul. Will they know I failed again? Will they see the pain and heartache?  Will they feel the bitterness forming on my heart?

And the worst part about all of this, at least at the moment, is that  I still need to tell my DH that it’s a “no go” once again..Probably one of  the worst parts of a failed cycle.

For me anyway.

He is always such a love about the bad news, but I know his heart hurts as well. And I fear that the question will arise, not now, but soon… “when will enough –be enough?” And how will I respond? Don’t want to think about that now, but it’s there on my heavy aching heart as well.

Now the tears fall. Large big rolly polly tears streaming down my hot cheeks.

I’ll be better tomorrow.

Back on my knees today.

But tomorrow I’ll be better.

I always am.