Anxiety, worry, panic, stressing, fretting… it comes by many names. All I know is that it happens more and more often now any time I think about my age and the many negative pregnancy tests that have visited my trashcan. All I know is that I have to talk myself down from the tightness in my chest, from the thought that keeps rising up that says, “Hilary, you just might not get to carry a child within you.”
I hadn’t realized just how much I had put myself into a place of denial until a few weeks ago when a close friend (who’s the same age as I am) mentioned that she would be turning 34 this year. I internally (and partially externally) freaked out. I had told myself that it was going to happen and everyone kept telling me that if I would just stop thinking about it, it would happen. I tried that, with minimal success, and then I’m hit upside the head with the reality that in less than 2 years, I’ll be considered to be of “advanced maternal age,” at a higher risk for having a child with chromosomal abnormalities, and a potentially higher risk pregnancy. I ache to hold a child in my arms and call it mine. After four and a half years of trying, many supplements, needles, medications, and a procedure later, we continue to hold onto the hope that we will get to meet our child one day. We can’t do this on our own and we are humbly asking for your help. Please donate to our IVF fundraiser and help us realize our dream of growing our family. Read more about our story and consider sharing your infertility story with us at infertility.hardestyhouse.com and thank you!!
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Great things are done by a series of small things brought together – Vincent Van Gogh
