When we first made the decision to look into reversing T’s vasectomy, and try for a child of our own, it was later in the year and our surgery appointment was set for February of the year soon to come. I had researched every statistic that was out there on Google, and with the average time to get pregnant after a vasectomy reversal being one year, I thought it was completely reasonable to set my hopes high that by next Christmas, I would most likely be pregnant.
After his reversal surgery, and month after month of negative sperm test results, the holiday season that I had anticipated having a growing baby bump arrived with still no hope in sight of naturally conceiving a child, so we turned to IVF.
Our first IVF consultation was in December of 2015. We had planned on jumping right into the cycle starting in January the next month, but after discovering I had severe endometriosis during my pre-IVF ultrasound, that plan got bumped back a bit to allow time for surgery to remove some of the endometrioma cysts and increase our chances of getting pregnant. That set us starting our first IVF cycle in April of 2016.
I felt like our chances were good, with the urologist gathering 4 tubes of good looking sperm at T’s retrieval surgery, and my doctor saying my surgery also went well. If I got pregnant in April, I would be due in January. I would be as big and pregnant as the Virgin Mary was at Christmastime, and might even be preparing to have a New Year’s baby. By next Christmas, surely, our arms would be about to be filled with a little bundle of joy and our longing would be over.
Our IVF cycle in April came, and I did become pregnant, but by early May, I had lost the baby. We tried another cycle in June…that ended the same way. And an FET in August, with yet another miscarriage.
I lay here with my dogs next to the glow of the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, with another cycle on the horizon in January, and wonder if by next Christmas I’ll have a tiny one here in my arms, with their own stocking up on the mantle waiting to be filled. In a few more years will that babe be anxiously tossing in bed, in their new Christmas Eve jammies, waiting until the moment they can creep from their room to peek and see what Santa left for them? I would like to think so. I at least hope so. But it’s hard to believe that next Christmas my dream will come true, after several years of disappointment and going through yet another holiday season without a baby.
So this year, I’m setting the bar a little lower for myself.
By next Christmas…I do still hope and pray that I will have a new sweet baby to share the magic of the season with. But if that is still not God’s will for me this year, I hope by next Christmas I am granted the peace of acceptance. I hope to be able to fully enjoy all the blessings I do have without feeling the sting of longing in my heart that comes from the babies I have lost and the ache in my empty arms. And I hope that I can have the strength to end another year of infertility with grace, and find some positivity to look towards the next year with hope and determination that I will be a mommy someday.