Knocked down, but getting back up

Last night, I kind of lost it. Seemingly out of nowhere a huge wave of sadness hit, taking me down at the knees. Crushing sadness at the loss of the New York Six, at the mediocre FISH results, at the failures of all of our IVF cycles, at the loss of our five pregnancies. The loss of our dreams, too, our hopes of how we would have a family. And the overwhelming fear and sadness that we are getting close to the end of the line with our gametes, and yet none of the other options feels quite right to me yet. Will is much more ready for the other possibilities if we need them, either sister donor or anonymous donor or adoption. Sperm donor, not so much, interestingly...but other options, yes.

I do pretty well holding it together most of the time, so well that I don't even know how much effort I'm mustering to hold back the wall of despair that threatens to drown me. But then yesterday night, my defenses started to go down and the tears started to flow. And once they started, I could not stop them and just let myself cry. Big heaving animal sobs crying. Which is ultra rare for me. It felt a bit relieving but also frightening, like maybe I wouldn't remember how to stop once I got started. Because this past two and half years has just been grief upon grief upon grief and we are still not out the other side.

Poor Will could only watch helplessly, holding me and reassuring me that we will get through this. That I will be ok. That we will be ok. And eventually I wiped my tears and blew my nose and fell asleep beside him.

Today I feel tentative, a bit fragile and depleted, but here. And I guess that's how it is sometimes. You just have to walk through it. And hopefully one day soon, out the other side.

Mo