When The Lights Go Down

With the weather in the high 90's - even reaching 103 last week - it was inevitable that we'd get some thunderstorms. DH and I were about to make dinner when the lights in our apartment began to flicker and sputter out in more of a whimper than a bang. I called BGE who told me the power would be on "before midnight". Needless to say, DH and I were not thrilled with the idea of being without power for 6 hours or more. We went to grab a bite to eat and came back to find our apartment still dark and powerless.

We scattered about with a flashlight to find candles and votives to light. It was amazing how many we found that were given as Christmas or wedding gifts that we had never opened. At the time, we probably joked about how useless, cliche, etc. the present was. Now, we had to admit that "hey, maybe so-and-so knew what they were doing" when they decided on Yankee Candle.

With no distractions like TV or computers, DH and I were left with just one thing to do - talk to each other. REALLY talk to each other amongst the candlelight that smelled of scents like vanilla, clean linen and peppermint. I used this opportunity to ask him about TTC. I asked him if he still wanted a baby. He did. I asked him if he felt he needed a break or if he wanted to keep trying. He said he wanted to keep trying. I told him I needed his input and I need his 200% support to go forward. I can't do it on my own. And he assured me that I would NEVER be alone in this. I asked him if he would resent me if I was physically unable to give him a biological child. He said no, that he could never resent me. As obvious as all these questions and answers seem, it was a load off of me. The questions needed to be asked and needed answers. I felt like we gained closure that night.

We even began talking about the prospect of international adoption. I know it is a bit early to consider this since we haven't been on this journey all that long compared to many others in the infertility community. But, I think we both agree that we can't emotionally handle too many more losses. I can't imagine going through this again and again. DH and I came up with a number. F-I-V-E. 5. If we hit this number, Heaven forbid, our TTC journey will come to an end and we will begin looking into - and financially preparing for - adoption.

While 5 losses seems so far away and unreachable, it is a scary thought. So finite. To think that it will all be over if we have 3 more losses. Three strikes. This includes any chemicals or failed IVF cycles, should we go that route. It scares me to think that it could all be over eventually. And yet, in all honesty, it is a relief.

Reading up about country requirements, dossier and homestudy gave me the chills. It excited me. Not that the process seems easy by any means. Probably one of the hardest things a person can do, if you are even approved. My mind boggled from just reading about what you have to go through. But the thought of actually holding a baby in my arms enraptured me. It just seemed so much more attainable than ART.

I always felt like I would do anything to have a biological child. And I am willing to go pretty damn far. But I have to recognize my limits and my husband's limits. I will not risk my sanity, my credit or my marriage to keep trying for a dream that may or may not happen. It is not pregnancy that I seek; it is a baby. I would love to experience pregnancy in all its glory - to feel the baby grow and kick inside of me, to find out if it is a boy or a girl, to see my body change in miraculous ways. I would love to experience birth, even though it is terrifying to me - to see and touch and smell the baby that we created out of love and years of struggle. But, the end result is a child to love. And I am beginning to see pregnancy as an added bonus rather than the final destination.

I guess I am just a planner at heart. While I am not ready to give up on TTC yet (by far), I need to have a Plan B. I need to know that we can choose other avenues to expand our family, should we need to.

I still pray that we will have a baby with mommy's lips and daddy's eyes. But I am beginning to mourn the loss of that child before it is even created. The fantasies I used to daydream about are now faded, like an old photograph. I have come to truly realize with this second loss that, while it hurts me tremendously to say type this, a biological child just might not be in the cards for us. Maybe we are meant for other things in life. And I am trying to prepare for that harsh reality.