Holding Space

“Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick…”

There are high and low moments in a fertility journey. People have compassion and love to hear how you overcame, but few people know how to hold space for the low moments when you are in them. So, those moments of discouragement and grief are sparingly shared. You learn to share once you’ve overcome or reached a milestone, but not always in between. However; I felt compelled to share my thoughts today.

Friday, February 22^nd 2019 was the day we found out that the one little embryo that we created- the one that all of our hopes rested in, the only child we have ever “conceived”(if you can call it that), did not make it. It did not fully develop to be a Day 3 embryo. I want to tell this story.

I started one of the most intense projects of my career thus far in January of 2019. I was happy to support in this project and thankful for the opportunity to grow. At the beginning of February 2019, we started the IVF process. It had taken us six months of preparation with the clinic to get to this point. Not to mention a stringent budget, fundraising, and $5,000 of meds that would expire so we decided to stick to the plan. Starting the IVF process looked like 2-3 hormone injections a day for me. I hate needles but endured that for the goal. It’s kind of wild- your tummy starts expanding like you are pregnant because of the egg follicles enlarging. This routine lasted for about two weeks- injections in the morning and evening.

I was quite proud of myself during this time. Even though I was in the midst of a high-pressure work project, I did not allow myself to get emotional or distracted. I focused 120% when I was at work and even worked a lot of overtime during this time to ensure things went smoothly. I really care about what I do! We completed egg retrieval at the clinic. Only one embryo was created from all of the money, hard work, preparation, hope, and literal blood, sweat, and tears. ONE. This little embryo had to make it through a few more phases to be considered viable. So, our hope was planted in this little guy.

Shortly after egg retrieval, I endured scary, painful side effects having developed a mild case of OHSS (which is actually very serious). I won’t go into all of the details because that’s really not important now. What we learned from the side effects I developed is that this was probably the last time we would do IVF given its’ impact on my health. I was supposed to fly to Boise for work that week and the doctor finally cleared me the day before, which was a huge relief.

I flew to Idaho on a Thursday. While I was in the San Diego airport, I received the call that it did not seem like our little embryo was progressing anymore. They said in these cases they like to wait for 24 hours to see if anything will change so they would call with the final news the next day. I cried a little in the airport, ate some food, boarded my plane, and worked from my laptop because like I said I was in the midst of one of the biggest projects of my career which would climax once I arrived in Boise. I got off of the plane, worked several hours of OT to make sure that everything would go smoothly, and then I ate dinner with some co-workers.

The next day was the big event- a 40 person branch move from one location to another, and I was the point person. I went to the first site, met with all parties, set things in motion, ensured everything was going smoothly, and then after a few hours went to the other site. On my drive to the other site, the clinic called to say that our embryo did not progress. It was a done deal. A dead dream- the dream of biological children that we both made. That was really hard news. I cried while driving, pulled myself together, and finished that branch move like the BADASS that I am!!!  No one had any idea that I was going through anything.

That evening, I received a text that my sister-in-law was going into labor with my little nephew. On the same day that our little embryo was declared no more, another who would be very dear to us was beginning his birth into the world. The news stung, but it was also exciting and long awaited!

That’s how a fertility journey goes. It is having joy for others while your joy is extinguished. It is watching others’ dreams come true while yours die. It is being truly happy and excited for another and sharing in that joy, but also mourning your loss.

I went to dinner with some of my favorite people the next night. Since I had not shared with anyone at work that I was going through IVF yet, people were asking questions about when Sean and I were going to have children. Since I was coming off of hormone injections and just suffered an incredible loss, it took all of the self-control I had to not get emotional. Then, in that same sitting, I received the text that my sweet nephew was born. So many emotions involved in moments like that.

I was in Idaho for work for 7 days. I worked my booty off every day exerting excellence in everything I did. I did eventually fill some of my co-workers in during my trip and did have a brief moment of emotion. I cried in my hotel room every night over our loss and what that meant for us. Having received the news while being away from home, I did not really get to grieve with my husband until I got back to California.

Intense is an understatement. I caught the flu on my way home from Idaho and was down for about 7 days. However; I worked from home for most of that time. Then, I got kidney stones about a week after that. The doctors said it was from dehydration caused by the flu and OHSS from IVF. Basically, it was the perfect storm for kidney stones. Kidney stones were probably my lowest low during this time. OHSS was really painful, the flu sucked, kidney stones were horrible, and losing your only embryo- devastating.

I only missed 4 days of work while going through egg retrieval and OHSS, the flu, and kidney stones. 4 days total taken off in a 5 month period although these events occurred over a 2 month span. Why? Because I am a BADASS. I have to say that because during this time, I realized that I am really strong. I always knew that I was, but I believe that if I can go through all of that and show up every single day giving 100% there is literally nothing that I can’t do. Nothing.

Now, after covering that I am badass, I have to give credit to God because He is the reason I am strong. He is the One that should get the glory. If it was not for His presence and strength in my life, I could not have done any of that.

This is a part of our fertility journey. A really small glimpse of one of the extreme lows of the past 3 years. I guess I felt that I needed to honor our little guy in some way- by telling his story. I like to think our embryo was a “he”. I want to honor him because he gave us hope on what had been a hopeless journey. We made him, which is so special to me. It did not work out and I am sure there is a good reason.

Suffering refines you. It humbles the prideful, ensures that you realize you have no real control, and causes you to empathize with others more than criticize. To clarify, it is refining when you are trying to learn and grow throughout the journey and when you are holding close to God. If you choose to get bitter (as that is a choice) or not press in to your breakthrough (which requires staying in faith), refining does not happen. Your suffering is wasted. Many people say that suffering is never wasted. I think in most cases that is true, but I do believe that if you choose to not grow, trust, and believe; you can get stuck. Sometimes people never become unstuck or cannot see the nuggets that were obtained during the hardship. I believe in those scenarios suffering is not refining you and it is a waste. God doesn’t cause the suffering, but I do believe He can use those things to refine you. When you press into Him and look for what you can learn, then suffering is not wasted. This is a really layered topic, but no matter what choices are made in suffering; there is always redemption. It is never too late for a loss to become refining.

Personally, I have been through too damn much on this rollercoaster of a journey to let any tear be wasted. I choose to press forward. I choose to grow. I choose to stay in faith, which is a REAL battle at times.

What is the lesson in this story for me? There are so many. It is ok to hold space for grief. Even though I worked really hard at work, all of my down time at home was about self-care. I really nursed those wounds. I grieved with my husband. I gave myself a break for two months in my home because I realized we had been through a lot. We ordered a lot of Door Dash. I did not clean as much as usual. We relaxed a lot more. I prayed, journaled, listened to worship. I waited for a breakthrough while trying to do all of the things that I felt were self- care. I learned who I can trust and who is with me in the darkness. I learned who I can share my deepest pain with and who I cannot.

People, including myself, have a hard time knowing what to say when someone shares something painful. People tend to respond with “at least” or some dumb cliché or a grasp at silver linings or “one day it’ll happen”. It’s hard to know what to say. I’ve found that when someone just says “I know this is hard” or something that acknowledges the weight of your burden, it does so much more for your heart. Encouraging words have their place but so do holding space for someone’s grief and just acknowledging it. It’s like saying “I see you and your pain is not lost on me”.

This weekend was filled with so many fun things. A date night, night out with my brother-in-law, sister-in- law, and nephew, house hunting, seeing my happy, fun, awesome nephew on his one year birthday. Life is good!! And yet, I have to hold space for grief.

That is the picture of a fertility journey. And also, a grief journey. I’ve spoken with many people who have experienced grief for different reasons. Grief does not go away. Life just becomes different. It comes in waves amidst joy. You grow, you enlarge, you gain wisdom and insight…. And in the case of a fertility journey- you wait and you wait some more.

I want to end this on a good note because that is what you’re “supposed to do”. However; I think I will just say that I am holding space for grief tonight and honoring our loss. I am sure hope will come again.