by Stephanie Fry
My husband and I got engaged on New Year’s Eve 2003. I was 28. He was 30. We weren’t getting any younger.
By July we had sold our place in the city and bought a new place in the suburbs. I left my job (which I loved) and went to work in an industry I didn’t love. But no biggie. After all, I’d be pregnant in like a year anyway.
I’m guessing it’s not a huge shocker that things didn’t quite go as planned.
Fast forward to today. Fast forward through surgery and recovery. Through OB’s, MD’s and RE’s. Through Clomid and IUI’s. Through round after round of IVF. Fast forward through loss. Fast forward through pain. Fast forward through hope, anguish, determination, resolve and sadness. Fast forward through therapy and healing. Through the Hail Mary FET that finally worked.
Because this whole thing really isn’t about me.
It’s about you.
It’s also about that woman sitting next to you in the waiting room. It’s about the girls in your peer group. It’s about the blogger you have been following as she bravely shares the details of her crazy IVF ride.
It’s about the journey. Not the destination.
It’s about your journey.
It’s your story.
And it’s called The IVF Journal.