November is here.

You guys, I’m going to be honest. I’ve been having a rough time lately. Not only am I missing Analiese, which is a constant, visceral ache; but I have no path to follow. I very much so feel like I’m drifting, and I just don’t know what comes next.

There are so many options ahead of us, and I’m a planner. I like plans. They make me confident and give me peace because I know what is going to happen. Beyond the things I cannot control, the plans that I make are things that I have total power over. And right now I feel like I have no power over anything in my life.

Stefan and I need to make these plans now, because we need to implement them in January. But we don’t know where to start. Do we save the money for IVF? Or do we commit to paying off massive amounts of debt? Financially, it makes more sense to pay off debt. But that route means that it will be close to 4 years before we can even BEGIN the circuitous path that will lead to eventually having a family. And no one knows how long it will take before we are actually successful in our attempts, be that through IVF, egg donation, embryo donation, or adoption. NONE of these options are fast, cheap, or easy. They all have their own varying degrees of difficulty and time consumption.

Not to mention, which route do we take? Do we try IVF? I feel like I would regret not trying it. I feel like if we skipped that step, I would always wonder “what if”. But is that enough of a reason to flush $15K down the toilet? Because my doctor 100% believes that it is a waste of time. And why am I trying to tell my doctor how to do his job? I haven’t gone to medical school. I know nothing about this except what I can find on the internet. I don’t tell the wedding cake decorators how to do their jobs, so why am I trying to do this to my doctor? Is it worth it? When it doesn’t work, will I be pissed that we wasted that much money that could have gone to egg donation? Or embryo donation? Do we adopt?

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HEART WRENCHING THESE QUESTIONS ARE?!?! So many people ask “well have you considered adoption?” Like adoption is this super easy thing that anyone can go out and bring home a baby. And adoption is a beautiful thing. But being forced into it is not the way I wanted to adopt a child. And unless you have had to face the idea of accepting your own inability to carry a child yourself, you cannot imagine what it feels like.

I want to be pregnant. I want to actually have a full size baby belly, and not a miniature one. Analiese was beautiful, but she was so tiny. I barely looked 24 weeks pregnant when I had her at full term. I see women with their gorgeous baby bellies and I am SO jealous. It’s embarrassing to admit how jealous I am. Because I don’t know if I will ever carry another baby. I don’t know if the “pregnancy” boxes that I have packed away will ever be useful for me again or if they will all get donated to a women’s shelter. There are SO many unknowns in my future. I do not have anything that is solid to hold on to.

I feel hopeless. I feel as though I’m never going to have a child of my own. Like I’m barren at 26 years old, because even though I’m capable of being pregnant, I cannot allow it because my heart can’t take it. It is too much to bear to hold your child as they die. I’ve done it once, I cannot do it again.

Yesterday should have been Analiese’s first Halloween. She would have been 8 months old. The perfect size to be Tinkerbell. I’ve been planning family halloween costumes since Stefan and I got together basically. Peter pan, tinkerbell, wendy, captain hook, pans shadow. That was an option that would work with a little boy or girl because there are so many characters. We could do Link, Zelda and the fairy, or Alice, The Mad Hatter and the Cheshire Cat, or the Red Queen. But last year we got a diagnosis that changed everything. And I stopped planning. Analiese didn’t get to wear a costume this year. I dressed in LuLaRoe leggings and a Mickey Mouse tshirt and handed out candy to little kids instead. No family costumes here. Not now, and potentially not ever. At least that is how I feel.

The next few months suck. They mark one year since I underwent tests and saw doctors and hoped and prayed for good results only to have my heart shattered over and over again. The next few months are the reason I don’t hope or pray any longer.

I miss my baby girl.