Eggcellent Mom Chronicles

I’ve been stuck on what to write for this blog for a while now. Usually, I have too many ideas swirling in my mind, sift through them, and hone in on the one my heart feels most connected to. Lately, though, everything around me feels gray. My heart is heavy, and it hurts to acknowledge the emptiness I’m carrying. It’s been easier to avoid the tears—which are always at the ready—to stick my chin up and act like everything’s alright. I know this isn’t sustainable, but for now, it gets me through minute by minute.

Until this evening.

I attend monthly therapy sessions through the Jewish Fertility Foundation, a space I’m deeply grateful for. These sessions allow me to share, receive support, and connect with women facing similar family-building journeys. Tonight, I heard a quote that I can’t stop thinking about. It perfectly encapsulates the weight I feel every moment:

The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child, or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful, some not. Still, we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?— Laura Bush, Spoken from the Heart Collector’s Edition

Infertility is indescribable, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But the truth is, I am living it—one breath, one tear at a time.

I’m trying to figure out my next steps because my heart’s greatest yearning to bear a child and become a mother has not changed. I hold fast to my dream of bringing a Jewish soul into this world. I long to celebrate moments of joy, ache through challenges together, and sit in the everyday moments, watching my child grow into their unique self.

Earlier this week, I met with my doctor to review what went wrong. The only answer is that it is still unknown. All signs pointed to the December transfer working, but it didn’t. Now, I’m back to square one. What tests should we add? With advanced maternal age, what vitamins and supplements should I incorporate? The process starts again. I’ve been advised to consider a different sperm donor, rule out other explanations for the implantation failures with biopsies and bloodwork, and prepare for another cycle of IVF.

Alongside the emotional and physical toll the past 10 months have taken, the financial strain has been another profound sacrifice. It’s like trying to build a dream on shifting sands. Every payment, every unexpected cost, feels like one more hurdle on an already challenging road.

Gratitude only scratches the surface of what I feel for each of you who read these words, send love and prayers, and contribute to my journey. Your generosity means more to me than I can express. 

I considered putting all of this on hold, but I can’t. My desire to be a mom is unwavering. I have decided to move forward, but I need help. Once again, I am making a heartfelt plea: any contribution to my GoFundMe would mean the world to me. It would bring me one step closer to fulfilling my dream of having a child and help to fill this aching absence.