i’m still here…somewhere.
i’m trying to find my words, or perhaps to liberate them, but it’s not an easy thing. silence has been my stony refuge these last two years, and i’m not sure how to chisel through these walls that i’ve constructed out of desperation and self-protection. but i will try…i must try.
a lot has happened, since i stopped posting on this blog. there have been new jobs. there have been too many trips to other countries….for embryo transfers and tests and surgical procedures. there have been more than a few negative pregnancy tests followed by excruciating (but required) blood draws to confirm what was already painfully clear.
there have been moments of joy: our wedding nearly a year ago, where a small group of our friends and family came and spent two lovely days celebrating with us at house in the countryside. two days surrounded by love and laughter and the wonderful people who have stayed with us through everything.
then in April, hope came bursting through the front door, completely unexpected and unannounced. a positive pregnancy test….the first one in two and a half years. the news, in the form of a phone call from the lab, left me thunderstruck and giddy, babbling “merci. merci beaucoup! merci mille fois!” to the kind but confused lab technician on the other end of the line. i finally got to use the expensive digital test i’d bought two years earlier in a Barcelona pharmacy.
for the first the first time in almost three years, there was a bright (half-remembered) color permeating my emotional landscape and lifting my heart…i was happy. suddenly there was a future filled with light and possibilities. suddenly there was a small, living spark inside of me. for nearly a week, i was happy, quietly nurturing that little life. and then the bleeding began and the spark went out, and all of that new happiness and hope seemed lost in the hemorrhage.
since then we’ve traveled twice to yet another country (one of the few where same-sex couples can get fertility treatments). i scheduled a surgical hysterosocpy in a maternity hospital there, and in the weeks leading up to it, the thought of that procedure in that place left me paralyzed with panic. but Froggy and i flew the three and a half hours to a land with a nearly illegible language, and i had the hysteroscopy, and somehow it wasn’t as hard as i’d expected. i became a patient at a new clinic, one that’s well known for helping the hopeless, and once again the feeling that it could work out for us, that we could really have a living child, rose up within me.
a month later, after handfuls of hormones and steroids, after thrice daily injections, after night sweats and more legs-spread moments at the gynecologist, we got on another three-hour flight and headed south for an embryo transfer. it was a good trip, one filled with the warmth of the sun and the kindness of strangers. though most of our time there was spent in medical settings or resting in our airbnb, Froggy and i did manage to find a few hours wander down the small streets that led to ancient places.
the whole time there were so many signs…crazy, hit you over the head kinds of signs. the boy with the same (rare) name as little sun’s sitting next to Froggy on the flight. our airbnb host who, without knowing a single thing about us or our history, told us that she was considering naming her baby girl the feminine form of little sun’s name. and so many other things that seemed to be saying, “this is the place. this is the time. this time it will work.”
i was uncharacteristically unskeptical. i should have known better. two weeks later the blood test proved what a fool i was. negative….again. over and over, negative. another gut punch that has left me reeling, exhausted and despairing. how could i have been so stupid? haven’t i learned anything?
apparently not, because soon enough, i’ll begin injesting and injecting all of the potions my faraway doctor has prescribed. soon enough i’ll be back on a plane, back in the stirrups, back on the rollercoaster. somehow i haven’t given up yet.
and so i’m here
and i’ll try to stay, and i’ll try tell my story and i’ll try to be open. it’s not easy at all, but i’ll try.