![]() So I drank less wine, I tried to exercise lighter even though my doctor said it was totally fine, I started popping herbal pills that made my shits disgusting. But here I was receiving messages from totally unqualified advisees you probably exercise too much, wine will make the blood flow so the embryo won’t stick, you need to try this Chinese herb, I read somewhere that if you try doing it in this position…and so it went. Even fertility treatments couldn’t promise finding a good egg. We paid thousands of dollars for the top rated fertility doctor in Manhattan to tell us that the scientific fact was that my eggs were shot to shit. Truth is, in life whatever stage you’re in people will give advice even if they don’t have the professional background to stand on their words. What came from it were condolences for our struggles, appreciation for expressing what so many are quietly going through and of course good old fashioned unsolicited advice. I don’t even have half that amount of social media followers so it was definitely being shared. I wrote it for myself to just try to get my feelings out but since I wrote it almost two years ago, it has reached the eyes of over 3,000 readers. People related and were thankful for my candidness. When I wrote my first post on the topic, the feedback was surprising. Thousands of dollars spent on fertility treatments and all it took was a bottle of wine and a good time. 9 pee sticks and one doctors visit later and it was official Tom and I had defied the odds and created a baby the old fashioned way. When I took the pregnancy test, I set it on the back of the toilet and walked away almost forgetting about it because the thought that I could actually be pregnant naturally was so unfathomable and I was not about to get excited over the impossible. Well, PLOT TWIST! As we sat and had a serious conversation finalizing our future little did we know, I WAS ALREADY PREGNANT! Huh, guess that explains the breast pain. I chose Tom and I together just the two of us and our cats in our cute little house and I felt deep in my gut this would continue to make me happy and I knew that I would have a good life without children. Maybe I’m not as strong as other women who put themselves under those needles over and over and over again but my heart could not take it again. I was still getting pangs of longing in my day to day but I have learned to accept those pangs and I knew wholeheartedly I could NOT go through the process of IVF again. It wasn’t that I had changed my mind about a baby. It felt like I had unknowingly been holding my breath and saying those words set me free. ![]() I do not want to go through that again.” Wow. It’s strange to say I really hadn’t thought about it in a while because when the words fell out of my mouth I was surprised at how relieved I felt. So really, the decision became mine to make. He would be happy trying again for a child and he would be happy spending money on trees instead of diapers. Do we want to pursue IVF again? He was happy doing whatever I wanted. On Christmas Eve 2019, just a little over a year since our heartache and we (really he) brought the topic back to the table. He focused on making our property look like it belongs on the pages of Better Homes and Gardens and we just let life be. I focused on establishing a world for myself up here in the suburbs. I was not ok and I wasn’t ready to get my hopes up again. After our emotional breaking point in 2018 we hadn’t really talked about our next step. Its been 23 weeks of pregnancy and I am still in major disbelief. Four and a half years after we began our fertility journey and I am rocking a 23 week pregnant belly. That one was about accepting what is, what will be and starting the process of moving on. And my last post on the topic was last Mother’s Day. My second post was a full blown therapy attempt to recover from one of the hardest things I have ever had to emotionally deal with. My first post on this topic was more like a vent sesh of what its like to unexpectedly struggle when you thought it would be smooth sailing to pregnancy. It was my last of three emotion-filled posts on dealing with fertility issues. The last post I made was exactly one year ago and it was not at all about my Big Apple adventures. Cathartic is the best word to describe it. In these stories I found that even though I have no serious educational background in writing, I’m not terrible at it, people seem to like what I write and most importantly it made me feel good. Most of my stories were very light and meant to make the reader laugh. It became a series of short stories of memories good and bad I had made over the years living there. My last year of living in the city I ran a blog called 13 Years of NYC. ![]()
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