Carrying On

Our house has an amazing 'three season room'. Note: 'three season room' seems to be a Minnesota term for an enclosed, windowed, unheated/cooled space. Not sure what part of the country it could be used for all 3 seasons in, with our freezing fall/spring temperatures, I'd go with more of a 'two season room'. Still, from the time the temperatures hit the 70s until they drop again, it's my favorite place in the house. It's on the second story and is surrounded by trees, so it feels like being in a tree house. It contains the patio table that I bought as a kitchen table in grad school (end of season closeout, cheapest option I could find), and the matching uber-comfy swivel rockers. I love to sit out there with my feet up, enjoying the view and relaxing.

Because it's my favorite room, I have some fairly indelible memories associated with it.

• I remember sitting in a chair, reading everything I could find about low AMH and successful pregnancies with low AMH after getting my results back in 2016.
• I remember sitting in a chair, feet up, arugula and chickpea salad in my lap, utterly amazed after the call saying my second beta had risen with Alexis and Zoe's pregnancy.
• I remember chatting with the nurse about the fact that I was bleeding at the start of Alexis and Zoe's pregnancy, and being told to keep my feet up and minimize my activity levels. I remember being sure that the pregnancy was ending due to the bleeding, after having lost my last three pregnancies back to back in the first tri.
• I remember sitting out there with my dad, stepmom, and DH trying to act like life was normal the first weeks home after losing Quinn. 
• I remember reading every infertility & loss/TAC blog I could find, searching for some hope that maybe someday I'd take a baby home. Searching for a glimpse into what my future might hold.

After all those memories, we had our first dinner of 2020 out there the first weekend in May. We brought out the twins' high chairs and fed them with us. My MIL was feeding T and DH was feeding A, and because of the layout of the room, all I could see was T's little hand, waving at me over MIL's shoulder. That wave brought all the other memories back. All of those memories of wanting children and being so afraid that I'd never have living ones. Seeing that little waving hand created one more indelible memory. All the emotions of the last four years washed over me, leaving me grateful beyond words for where I am today, but with a greater appreciation that I have every right to be emotionally exhausted.

As I prep to embark on an IVF cycle with my next CD1, I know I'll be running another emotional ultra-marathon. As much as I want to start reading again in the futile hope that some corner of the internet will be able to tell me my outcomes before they happen, I know that corner doesn't exist. I will have to keep journeying, keep making new memories. I'll have to live with those memories, no matter what the outcome. I think that's the scary part of heading into IVF - not the IVF itself, or even that it won't work. I think the scary part is knowing that it too will create indelible memories that I'll have to carry for the rest of my life and that will change me. I hope that the possibility for a happy ending is worth the cost of that burden. We'll see.