The first step is always the hardest

Hello world. This is my moment. My place. A place that I need to visit. Regularly. The past year has been difficult for me and my family. The past year?! Nope. The past two years.

That's how long we have been trying to get pregnant. I didn't think it would be that difficult. I read a couple of books. Started taking and logging my temperature every day. I would pee on a stick on or around day 10 until it told me that I was ovulating. Then the fun would ensue. Every other day for a week. Then we would wait until day 30. Then I would pee on another stick that would tell me if I was pregnant. Or, in my case, not. Every month there was hope. Every month it was obliterated.

We saw my doctor, who prescribed Chlomid. Ugh. I won't bore you or take up space with the facts that are chlomid. We didn't get far with it. So she referred us to another doctor. An infertility specialist. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would end up in an infertility specialist office. More drugs, my dear husband got proficient at giving me shots in my belly. (A belly that was growing because of the weight I was gaining because of the drugs!) Every month there was hope. Every month it was obliterated.

One IUI and two IVF cycles later, we are broke and I am tired and scared. I got pregnant in October with our second IVF cycle. But I didn't keep it.

I am torn as to what to do next. Adoption? A third cycle? Donor egg? There are many options. You know the saying, "You will have a child if it is meant to be" I hate that saying. We have decisions to make and I have no idea on where to begin.

I guess that is a good beginning for now. I feel better.