My AF has taunted me by being nine days late and therefore giving me some hope that the nurses got my blood work incorrect. That door closed completely today and as much as this hurts, it is a new cycle. A new chapter. Another door will open. Although I am spending my time in the hallway at the moment, I am not giving up on my dream just yet. The hubster and I need to ask ourselves some serious questions.
I am going to do the WTF review. I want to understand what potentially went wrong this time, why no better outcome (in fact lowest number of eggs collected). What, if any, are my other options. The hubster and I need to also determine whether it is fair to have a 15-year-old when one of us will be 60 and the other 50 years of age. If we couldn’t have a successful round of IVF while my eggs are under 35 years, the chances have got to be worse now, right?
I am a fighter. I am not a quitter, but I also need to be a realist. Am I chasing a selfish dream?
Maybe my children are meant to forever be little angels. My Peter Pans. Adoption is an option, but with the hubster being 46, my bipolar diagnosis and the low numbers of adoptions taking place, we have a tough battle ahead of us!
Today, I would like to share one of my favourite songs. I think I will ask this to be played at my funeral: