The Last Day

It’s the anniversary of my last day unaffected by infertility.

Image by Rachel Crowe/Unsplash

It’s been exactly three years since I lived a day untouched by pregnancy loss and the struggle to conceive. 1,095 days ago I was 8 weeks pregnant and counting down the days to our 12 week scan.

We were planning how to tell our families and friends in a lockdown without resorting to a zoom call. I remember thinking I’d just drive to my parents’ house and press the scan photo up against the window of their living room. A no-contact celebration of how much we all had to look forward to. A light for everyone in the gloomy cave of Covid.

My last day of being truly carefree and content was spent sending out a welcome pack to my new coaching client, having launched my business a few months before. I was confident, full of purpose and experiencing the power of creation at its source. I assume I had a relaxed time at home before work as a midwife the next day - a Friday 12 hour day shift before a full weekend off. I know we had plans to drive out of the county for a walk on the Saturday, such was the legal allowance of ‘fun’ back in May 2020.

We still went for that drive even though the bleeding had started, we still went for that walk even though life had dealt a plot twist to our plans —because we didn’t know for sure. It was a way to move through the uncertainty, by sticking to what was certain. Now, the uncertainty is like a third person in our relationship. It’s moved in and put its toothbrush in the holder. It’s here to stay.

If someone had told me all that would happen over the next 1,095 days I wouldn’t of believed them. How can someone go from falling pregnant the first time they try to being where I find myself now?

Today I’m stood right at the intersection of what is still possible biologically, physically, financially, spiritually and what just isn’t anymore. This far in, I’m having to dig the deepest yet, but my shovel is broken and the ground is unyielding.

There’s one tantalising possibility in the freezer but huge difficulties in using it. Nothing is simple. Everything is a chore, a test, a set back. There’s a time hungry monster gobbling up years of my life. All of the things I could of done, all of the things I’ve had to give up for the slim chance of being a Mum.

“But it will all be worth it.”

If it works. But even in this dream scenario, I’m not sure the years struggling just go away. I think I will carry them in some way, no matter the outcome. I can never be the unburdened woman I was 1,095 days ago.

She’s gone. She’s a phantom and I’m in her place. I’m the one really going through this.

This is all really happening.