finally!

And then—finally, a sticky embryo!

And when I couldn’t hide my bulging belly anymore, we told colleagues, I posted on Facebook, and I exhaled.

And then, less than three weeks after that happy Facebook announcement, I had to post about my surrogacy journey again:

“A few weeks ago I posted that I had become a surrogate. This pregnancy began in July, but the journey started long before that. It was a long, sad, beautiful process. It was full of love and heartbreak and support. I built new bonds and strengthened old ones. I had a front row seat to the purest love and hope and dedication you can imagine. I witnessed loss and despair and questioned everything I know and believe.

And this week, my surrogacy journey comes to a sad close, and the process of grief and rediscovering love and leaning on community begins again. On Friday, Baby D’s dads and I discovered that she has stopped growing, and I will be induced tomorrow. We have no words for the pain and frustration we’re all feeling, and there’s so much to wonder and question and feel that there are moments I’m sure I’ll explode. I keep searching for light and silver linings, but there are none when a baby dies. It’s only emptiness and the loss of hope.

I’m thankful for my own healthy babies and for the love of family and friends. I know that the coming weeks will get harder, not easier, and I thank and treasure you for whatever space in your heart you hold for us as we move forward.”

For those keeping score, that’s four transfers. An early miscarriage. A failed transfer. Another early miscarriage. And then one very late miscarriage complete with a traumatic anatomy scan, induction, labor and delivery, and postpartum hypertension. For the first week at least, I was more exhausted than I was sad.

And then came the heartbreaking decision to end my surrogacy journey. To pass the torch to another uterus. To wallow in the grief of loss and failure. To hope for the best from a distance, and carry on.