The end.
The end of a dream.
The end of the idea of being pregnant.
No more miscarriages or hysterical pregnancies. No more wishing and hoping that the impossible will be possible...that I will be the one in a million. Not me. I'm just another woman will an inability to conceive and now, the inability to carry. Adoption is the only option.
I received word from a 5th and 6th doctor that my dream is gone. Well, at least in the way I wanted the dream to happen.
Funny... this is the second dream that has died in my life. The first was my gymnastics career. That ended with the back injury. And it's possible that my back injury was one of the root causes of my infertility and inability to conceive. I've aged out of the healthy carrying part of it.
So, no purchasing of maternity clothes... no weird cravings (I always wondered if my kid would hate pickles while I was pregnant)... no stretch marks from a growing stomach (the only stretch marks I get are from my weight gain... thank you depression)... no crazy hormones... no swollen feet and ankles (I have always feared getting "cankles")... no epidural... no gross, slimy newborn being placed in my arms with the umbilical cord still attached and my husband leaning in to kiss my head while I was sweaty from the labor... no donating the cord blood to science for stem cell research and use... no car seat test... no latching issues... no lactation issues... no vaginal ripping/tearing from the birth... no watching my stomach move as the baby adjusted itself... no sonogram pictures... no monthly/weekly baby bump photos... no maternity shoot... no "measure the belly" at a baby shower... no saying "you know what my heart sounds like from the inside"...
It's over. The end.
I am devastated.
