Letting go . . . part 2

Thank you everyone for your wonderful and thoughtful comments. I have taken them to heart. I do think I am trying to rush the grief I am feeling (Pamela Jeanne has a timely post on the subject) and perhaps not allowing myself to grieve

I don't have any regrets for rushing in to DE. It was the best decision at the time and most of the time I still feel that way. Ironically, I think it is the greater peace and hope I feel because we (so far at least) seem to be so close to have a baby, that makes me doubt our decision. Now I have the energy to try again with my eggs because now I have the hope of a baby which makes it all seem more survivable. When I think back on how hopeless I felt before this cycle, I am reminded we did the right thing. In fact, my mom had offered to pay for a second "last chance with my eggs" cycle and I turned her down partly because I didn't want to take her money, but mostly because the idea of trying the same thing and hoping for different results just made my heart sink.

I do wish I could rush this grief. The reason I want to rush it is because I want to be fully present for this child now. I want this child to know that I love him unconditionally. I want to enjoy this pregnancy and not wonder if I would have felt differently with my genetic child. To that end, I went to my hypnotherapist and asked he to help me not care about the DE issue. She refused. She said grief takes as long as it takes and I need to let it happen. She said children are resilient and both of us will be better off if I use this time to grieve and not try to shut it away. "Yes, but I don't have time. This baby deserves to feel loved and cared for now." "Ahhh," she replied, "but you obviously do love and care for this child right now or you wouldn't be here asking me to take away your sadness for her benefit."

So, Anonymous (1), I am separating my grief of not having it a certain way from the love I feel for this child. I am happy we are so close to having a child. I will take time to relish in the life currently growing inside me and I will also take time to grieve the loss of the way I pictured I would become a mom.

Lori, Brad and I have both decided to write a letter to the mutually genetic baby we thought we would have. I think I will also write a letter to myself - from the part of me that is proud of the obstacles we have overcome to the part that feels like she wasn't enough.

Anonymous (2), I didn't mean to sound ungrateful although at the time I was writing the post I suppose I wasn't feeling very grateful at all. I am sorry for your struggles and your losses and did not mean to cause you any pain.

Drowned Girl, thank you for the links, I have read 2 of them (from your blog?) but it was nice to read again.

Frenchie - Thank you for the poem. I cried too, but it was nice to read. I am going to be rereading it in the future. Thank you also for telling your story about how much you love and cherish your son. I fully trust that I will feel the same way. At moments I already do and I hope those feelings will start to outweigh the grief feelings.

Thank you again to everyone else for your understanding, your advice and your reminders that things will get better. Losses will be grieved, dreams will shift and our child will never be second best.

One more note. Today I told my acupuncturist that we are calling this baby "our little project". Partly this is due from a desire not to jinx things, but also partly because of the bittersweet and somewhat tragic way we came to name our son. She was none to happy. It was too impersonal, she said. Brad and I discussed this and decided she was right. It was time to embrace this one a little more. Not only will we spending more time just being with this baby (and my acu has suggested some reiki as well) but he has a new name. From now until sometime in the future, she will be called "Our Little Butterfly"