We had a plan.

We had a plan.

When a blastocyst embryo turned into a positive test which turned into a heartbeat on screen, and finally to a living, breathing Flynn in our arms we felt, at last, on the right side of the odds.

IVF didn’t work for everyone, or even for most, but, as our beautiful boy could attest to, it had for us. Not only did we have him, but, we had 4 most microscopic bundles of future potential.

Our plan was, when the time felt right, to transfer them one at a time until one of them became a pregnancy and hopefully a living sibling for Max and Flynn. In the lesser spoken postscript of the plan was the quiet acknowledgment that if 4 goes was not enough we  would stop. We are married for almost 9 years and for the majority of that time we have either been pregnant or trying to be. At some point we firmly believe we have to stop striving and start being.

And yet here we are. Our 4 little embryos stopped growing at various stages of development. Our war chest of potential is empty. On some days I agree quietly with the past version of myself on our pact to know when to stop, when enough is enough. On most days I rattle off the many logical reasons why it might be better to stop here. The reasons are many, they are real, they are valid. They are shared by John.

• Doing more IVF, particularly a fresh cycle as it would now have to be, is mentally, physically and financially exhausting.
• There is no reason to think it’s likely to work, and, after 4 failed attempts every reason to think it wont.
• We might have another chemical pregnancy, where hopes and excitement soar only in time for them to come crashing against the rocks of dissapointment.
• We might have a miscarriage
• We might have one of the many many possible complications of pregnancy
• We might lose another baby through stillbirth or neonatal loss
• I might be so overcome with anxiety during another pregnancy that I am unable to physically or emotionally care for Flynn.
• Something may go wrong during labour
• We might have a very sick child
• I might suffer again with post natal depression and be unable to cope or recover in the way I thankfully did this time.
• Having ‘Just Flynn’ here with us is an amazing place to be. We are so incredibly lucky to have him and the more having another evades us, the more clear it is just what a miracle he is.
• Having ‘just him’ means more money, more time, more energy, more holidays and after school activities and playdates. We fit neatly into one row on an airplane. We can dedicate the 2 hours it takes most nights to bath and bed and books.
• We are getting older. John is 40 and I will be 37 next month. The risk of complications have increased significantly from when I got pregnant with Max at 31 and I’m not sure if we have the energy to do it all again.
• We are content, we feel lucky, we are for the first time in a long time happy with life.
• Having 100 more children would not replace Max, would not fill the gap aching at his absence.

I tell myself these things every day. We talk about them often, We believe them. Still though, deep down, where logic falls quiet and my heart takes over I know I long for another child. I know I don’t feel ready just yet to ‘give up’.

My one regret over IVF is that I didn’t drop that last feed before bedtime. My consultant checked my prolactin and was happy to continue to treatment. She didn’t feel that it would impact- yet I can’t help but worry that I did. I can’t help but worry that one little factor could have made such a difference to our outcome, to our family, to our life. At the same time, I am happy to still be feeding, so have those quiet milky snuggles, to allow him his little safe space for as long as he needs it. I am completely aware that we could have stopped to do IVF and still be in exactly the same situation.

I have started to find pregnancy announcements difficult again, to feel jealous as Flynn’s little friends get to be big brothers and sisters. I find myself longing not only to see him as the little brother he should be, but also as a big brother. He asks me all the time for a sister.

I don’t know how to make sense of what we do next. The tenacity in me, the longing in me niggles me to try one more time. I’d love to throw everything we can at it, a cycle without feeding, 3 months prep of super healthiness and the most gritty manky overpriced conception vitamins we can find, Even if it’s only to be able to tell Flynn in the future when he wonders why he has no siblings to play with that we tried our best.

Ultimately I want to do the best for him. I am unable to gift him with the guidance of a big brother and I long to give him the fun of a noisy house, of toy wars and of someone to share the ups and downs of life with. I’m not sure that trying again is doing that though. In the effort of striving are we missing giving him everything now. In trying again are we risking more loss, are we risking surrounding him with heartbreak instead of joy.

We finally booked the follow up consultation for the last IVF for next week. I am hoping that she may be able to give us some guidance on our chances but I know that it’s not ultimately another fail I fear, it is the million fears that come to life if we were finally to have success. I know that I personally could cope with an IVF fail but have no confidence at all that I could cope with saying goodbye to another child.

I am used to writing clarifying things for me, for the true desires of my heart and grief of my soul to become apparent as the words flow from me into sentences. I am used to a blog post ending with more of a sense of clarity and purpose but here, on this subject, the keyboard fails me. I have no crystal ball. No-one can take my hand and promise me it will all be ok.

My head says stop.

My fear says stop.

My heart says one-more-time.

My heart says try.

My heart says maybe it’ll all work out.

My heart says ‘Have no regrets’

My heart says I want to feel those magical kicks again, to inhale the milky magic of a newborn, to be mesmerised by a cry, to watch Flynn hold his sibling with gentle love.

I am so grateful to be here, to be content enough with life and so blessed with Flynn that stopping right now seems absolutely a valid and wonderful choice. I just want the best future for him and have seen and experienced enough to know that life offers no guarantees.

 

Photo credit The incredible and talented Jay Doherty taken on our trip up Errigal