Breathe in. And out.

Breathe in.

I’ll start this post by taking a deep breathe. I’ll try very hard to calm my body, to find some way of thinking about this without spinning out into a complete panic attack.

Breathe out.

We, or maybe I, am at a crossroads. 10 days ago I had a second miscarriage and DNC following a donor egg transfer. My first miscarriage was from my own eggs and having been diagnosed with Diminshed Ovarian Reserve, this donor egg transfer was meant to be our answer. And it was. Genetic testing showed that we had a perfectly healthy boy growing inside of me.

Breathe in.

The pain of writing that sentence literally takes my breathe away. I have to remind myself to breathe, to open my eyes. Have some tea, take a shower, brush my teeth and get out of bed. If I didn’t, I might not. I might stay in bed, not talk, not drink tea, not get out of bed. I might just try to remain very, very still and hope that somehow, my reality might change. But it doesn’t.

Breathe out.

Why does knowing the gender make it more painful? I didn’t mind whether we had a boy or a girl, I would have been delighted with either. But knowing….knowing, makes it so much more personal and painful. My heart could literally break. He was perfect. But he died.

Breathe in.

And so we have to face a new reality, a new diagnosis. Another stumbling block on the way to becoming parents. We don’t only have difficulty becoming pregnant, but staying pregnant as well. A double whammy.

Breathe out.

And with so many problems, what are we meant to learn? To do? To feel?

Adoption is not on the table right now because my husband can’t reconcile himself with it. And I would not willingly bring a child into a home where there is ambivalence about its very existence. So now what?

Breathe in.

I really, truly don’t know. The future feels bleak, black, despairing. I literally do not know what to do next. Breathe in, and out. That’s all I know right now.

Breathe out.

6 thoughts on “Breathe in. And out.

  1. I’m so sorry – I don’t know what to say. I feel such heartache when I think about the injustice of what you’ve gone through over the past 6 months.
    You don’t have to make any of these decisions now, either of you. Perhaps with a little more time, the path forward will become clearer. For now, look after each other. Get yourself out of bed, make sure you both eat and drink, and give yourself one task for the day that will make you go back to bed feeling like you’ve achieved something – something small, and achievable, like sorting out your sock drawer or watering the houseplants etc etc.
    Thinking of you xx

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  2. I am so sorry. I know this pain and it is heartbreaking. I miscarried a genetically normal girl in December, and I agree, knowing both the gender and that the baby was healthy made it so much worse. I don’t have any words of wisdom, but just know that I’m here, and I understand. Sending hugs and love. Just keep breathing. You will make it through this, but I wish you didn’t have to go through it at all.

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  3. Keep breathing & living. Do what you need to do to continue carrying on. Don’t force yourself into any decisions & take whatever time you guys need to heal. I haven’t a clue what it’s like to experience this heartbreak, but I hope that someone telling you to take the time you need it care for you & your husband, and your marriage helps. Sometimes, getting “permission” to grieve can be healing; like you aren’t crazy for wanting to stay in bed & cry if that’s what you need/want. We are all here for you. So much love & hugs to you. xo

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  4. I’m so so sorry. The pain is crushing. Take it minute by minute until you can manage hour by hour. When it’s time, feel free to reach out to me. I had 2 BFN’s and a miscarriage with DE’s and then did extensive testing. I was diagnosed with low progesterone. I did another DE FET and had 2 PIO injections per day. It seems to have worked. When you are ready, have a full work up and as weird as it sounds, I hope they find something wrong that they know how to fix. In the meantime, breathe. Be gentle with yourself. You will get through this.

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  5. This just breaks my heart for you as I’ve been here too. First miscarriage at 15 weeks (IVF, my own eggs, baby boy, genetically healthy). Second miscarriage at 9 weeks (IVF, donor eggs, twin girls, genetically healthy). I agree, that knowing the gender seems to make it even more crushing. I’ve been right in your same place, just completely devastated and distraught and heartbroken. Sending hugs and light to lead you to peace and recovery. It will take time but you will feel hopeful again.

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