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A roundhouse kick to the ovaries

Here's the thing with infertility; it seems like it's never quite done with me.  Charlotte is 3 and exhaustingly perfect.  I am so insanely thankful that I get to be her mama.  We have tried 4 additional transfers since hers and it just doesn't seem to be in our favor.  I hear the science telling me that I'm done, that I likely won't get to hold a newborn in labor & delivery again and know that this tiny person is mine.  Right? Like this is just the known part of infertility.  The pangs of desire hit me every now and then but I can rationalize them and make the steps to pursue IVF once more (more details on that coming this spring).

It's the little things that I forget and then come back to kick me square in the ovaries.

It's putting away Charlotte's 3T and 4T clothing and staring woefully at the stack of totes I once optimistically thought would be reopened.
It's rocking a baby at work and watching her fall asleep while I'm wondering if I'll ever have those loooooong nights again.
It's handing down toys and clothing to my niece because I am so uncertain if we will ever need these items again.

It's every. single. time someone asks if I am going to have another baby, why I didn't want another baby, or (my personal favorite) -- if I am pregnant.  (Nope!  Just fat!  Thanks for asking!)

They are like constant reminders that my reproductive system is not cooperating with my heart.

What if this is it?




Now I feel even less crazy for having tried so hard to baby this giant person for so long.  If this is my first and last go at parenting, I want every opportunity to love her as deeply as I can.  Babies don't keep.  Neither do toddlers or preschoolers.  I firmly believe that we're gonna miss this and I try very hard to savor and keep all these little moments.

xo
Mama Porch

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