This coming week we will be booking our trip to Africa next summer. I should be thrilled, but what this actually means is that our third round of Clomid was unsuccessful. Our last (and exhausting) attempt to get pregnant has failed.
My head knows that the odds were very much against us, but my heart is still broken. Reality has set it that it will likely be at least another two years until our family grows through domestic adoption. I have grieved this loss what feels like a million times over but the intensity of hurt remains unchanged.
I have mentioned before my group of girlfriends (11 of us) that have been friends for many years. This week one dear friend announced she had miscarried and two days later, another gal who is due with her second around Christmas revealed that her baby has been diagnosed with a fatal kidney disease and will not survive long after birth. I’ve spent more time crying this week for both myself and the very important people in my life. These circumstances remind me that even had we been blessed enough to become pregnant, that certainly would not guarantee a happy outcome.
This was one of those weeks where I asked myself numerous times, “What is the meaning of all of this?” During this chapter, it is difficult to choose gratitude, but I must. I am grateful for my health, my family, the privileges I have, and the immense amount of love and support that surrounds me. Sending you all love and light this Thanksgiving weekend.