It's been a while!

It’s true. I’ve been avoiding you. My head in the sand, my heart covered up, busy with work, busy with photography, busy with home improvements and the daily stuff of sorting whites from colors, hiring a tree guy, making chimichurri sauce to go with the steak, taking a walk at the reservoir to eye the white pelicans (the feathers on top so cutely tossled by the breeze), eating falafel, getting a pedicure, painting a bedroom. Brown.

So really, I’ve been avoiding the embryo question. Very well, I might add. It’s strange, you know, to not be waiting for something. The world of infertiles is filled with waiting … for the next test, the next shot, for the doctors opinion about the lining, for the embryos to become blastocysts, for the pregnancy test, then the wondering....Will it last? Will they survive? Am I doing everything I possibly can to nurture these little morsels of life?

I did everything, at least everything in my power.

Recently I thought about what advice I might give other infertiles. It lead to what advice I may want to give myself.

Corey Whelan, in an article about infertility, reminded me of a very important thing (I’m paraphrasing)…“Ask yourself this: how much time do you want to spend in the doctors office, versus time on the playground with your kids?”

For 10 years now, I’ve been caught up in the process. Hard to imagine I could have a 10-yr old daughter by now. But I don’t. Here’s the thing: I’m smart, I’m dedicated, but I may not be lighting fast about things. Why? I’m a believer. I believe things will work out, if I give it enough effort, if I give it enough time, if I do the right things.

But the end result is that I often stay too long.

One thing I can say about my life: for all the big things/questions, things that scare me and perhaps excite me  – I always feel grateful to have done them. And I only wish I would have done them sooner.

Today, if I was to give advice to me, it might be this: Honey, you have tried, so hard and for so long. You are tired. It’s OK. Really, it is. It’s ok to grieve about this. It’s ok to talk about it, or not. There’s no reason why this didn’t work, and sometimes we just never know. But what you do know is that the next phase of your life cannot and will not begin until you let go. I know it’s hard to dive off that cliff, but you’ve jumped off cliffs before with great success. Don’t be afraid. The people you love will be there to catch you.

And here it comes, the voice. “But what if you gave it one more try? What if?"

What's next????