Every year, I hope that Next Year Will Be Different. I hope that next Christmas, I will be hugely pregnant or even holding an infant. I hope that, next New Year's Eve, we will reflect on the previous year with joy and relief that our quest for parenthood has finally come to fruition. So far, that has not come to pass.
In a lot of ways, it doesn't seem like much has changed in our story since last year. We still have no baby, nor am I pregnant. My nurses still don't know why my body isn't reacting the way it should to even the simplest of treatments. Parenthood is still a distant dream, one that seems unreachable.
But, as I sit and reflect on the milestones of this past year, I realize how far we have come. This year, we opened up in new ways to the communities around us. We matched with three separate donors, including my remarkable sister, before finally finding one that worked. We spent tens of thousands of dollars, and were rewarded with 4 embryos that we hope will someday grow.
I know we have come so far since that New Year's Eve three years ago, where we held each other and cried over the day-old loss of our first pregnancy. But I still sit, hoping that Next Year Will Be Different. After all, in this battle, hope is often the only weapon we have.
