What's Next?

Things feel weird when you’re 38 and no longer have any frozen embryos after seven and half years of infertility.

There’s a lot.

The grief. 

The going back to work. 

The future planning.

The fully stocked nursery.

The tears.

All of it.

When we first shared the loss of this baby, most people wanted to know what was next—this hurt more than I imagined. I needed a narrative and didn’t know what mine was. Sharing our story brings more opportunities and opinions from others, and I’m happy I share, though it’s still a lot to navigate. Not having a decision in this area drove me crazy… as you know, I’d like to have some sort of control, especially with my own story. Because, in the past, if I don’t have my own story to parenthood, people often inject one for me, which drives me crazy. 

With all of this brewing, I still needed to honor my grief. We have shut the door on fertility treatments and having our biological child. That’s a huge loss that isn’t going away, ever. I want to sit in this space and honor all that is happening. I’ve skipped this part before, and it showed up in crazy ways that I’d prefer not to experience again. Grief is welcomed in our world and deserves a seat at the table. 

So moving forward, it looks, feels, and seems unknowing as it always has been and always will be. And today, I can say this feels lovely. I don’t say that every day.  Dealing with infertility makes you question your future more than ever, and in our case, it’s never as we assume. Life has always been this way, and this has been our lesson to learn it. I’m sure more education is on the horizon. It feels gentle and softer than I previously thought, and I will take those feelings for now. There will always be tough times. Always. I’m confident that good times are coming, too, but when you’ve become accustomed to hard times, they appear blurry and unrecognizable. 

I will say, or marriage is blooming in ways I never imagined.  More discussions revolve around what we currently love in our life, and they feel divine. Brad and I are leaning into our relationship, and it’s the firm foundation of my dreams. We still hold onto the idea of sharing this space with a child and are listening to what we feel about the concept of no kids. Both are scary.

Letting go of the life I wanted to live and loving the life I have takes work. I like to think we all work on this as none of our lives turned out as imagined. Right? (Please say yes!) This work has led me to a gratitude practice that is my go-to. It’s how I survived delivering our stillborn daughter, how I’m not triggered by pregnant people anymore, and how I intend to move forward. There’s no guidebook for this, and to be honest, I’d never read those directions anyway.