Sometimes, I can’t help but think I’ve got some pretty shitty Karma to work through. This isn’t me complaining. I’m being straight-up here.
I’ve done some awful things in my past. Sure, I’ve sought and received forgiveness where I needed to. And I’ve — mostly — forgiven myself. I’ve also spent years becoming a solid, true, and good person. But that doesn’t change a thing.
It doesn’t change that I lived a lie for the majority of my life, that I was a chronic liar for decades, that I walked away from friends that were good to me simply because I couldn’t bare to tell them I was gay, that I stole clothes and boyfriends in high school, that I upended a man’s life when I did finally come out, that I put a truly wonderful woman through hell when I cheated on her, that I voiced opinions to friends and in-laws that should have been left unsaid, and that I even once told my own mother that I wished she’d die.
I mean, really. Who does that?
Me. That’s who.
When I found out that I was pregnant with twins, I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. Twins? Me? Anytime I envisioned my future, I saw kids. Just never twins. There were even a few times that, when speaking about my pregnancy, I accidentally referred to “the baby” instead of “the babies.” I knew there were two. I knew I was having twins. And, although I was nervous about being a first-time mom of twins, I was elated that I was going to be!
When I lost the twins just before Christmas, I felt so guilty for the few times that I misspoke and for envisioning (without intentionally doing so) a future without them.
And the what-if theme of years past once again crept into my head: What if I hadn’t lied about who I was? What if I had been a better person? What if I had never hurt him? Her? What if I kept those words to myself?
But this time, it was: What if I had been better to my twins? What if I hadn’t misspoke? What if I loved them better?
I’m a logical person, so I know that my babies didn’t leave my womb because I didn’t love them enough. But when your life is — finally — so full of love, when you’re finally ready to have a family, when everything else is so right, yet things just keep going wrong with becoming a mother, it’s hard to remain wholly positive.
I’m now on my third IVF cycle. The first one was unsuccessful. I had two embryos transferred five days after my low-dose IVF cycle, which produced two eggs and left me suffering from OHSS (ovarian hyperstimulated syndrome); neither embryo implanted. The second IVF cycle is technically considered successful. It was a full-dose cycle that yielded nine eggs, six of which were fertilized — four were frozen, and two were successfully transferred into me and resulted in my twin pregnancy. But my water broke at 17 weeks and I lost both babies.
So here we are. Embarking on IVF Round 3. This cycle, we’ll do an FET (frozen embryo transfer) because I have embryos frozen and ready. We’ve decided to transfer one embryo this go-round. This time, I’ll skip the fertility injections because I won’t need them. And I won’t have to undergo the egg retrieval. I started taking 2mg of estrogen orally, three times a day. I’ll go for my sonohysterography and my hysterosalpingogram (both routine due to my situation) in a few days. I’ll start progesterone suppositories late next week. And — God willing –I’ll have a Valentine’s Day FET.
It’s been a rough road to here. My journey has been mixed with a little bit of history, a good amount of science, and a whole lot of faith.
All I can do now is hope I’ve made right with my Karma. And pray that the third time’s a charm.
Read more of Aela’s writing at Two Moms Make A Right.