May/June 2017 was,….. hard.

For my friends who have ever gotten a positive pregnancy test, a positive BETA, gone through a round of IVF and then be told the pregnancy “isn’t viable”, “chemical pregnancy” or “miscarriage”, i see you. This happened to me with someone else’s much wanted, much loved, worked hard for baby. And I was completely devastated by it. It literally broke everything that I though I knew. The funny part is that they warn you about this before IVF and when you’re a surrogate, and you’ve never been through loss before, you just end up believing that it can’t happen to you. And my god what a crash to reality it is when it does happen. I guess that’s where this starts.

After another failed round of IVF (leading to the loss of an embryo during the thawing process) in October 2017, we basically took 2018 off.. well I did. Brooke spent the entire year doing round after round of egg retrievals.

When we had a successful transfer in October of 2018 I was cautious. I was so afraid to tell people, especially social media. It wasn’t until Christmas Eve when I finally felt okay to say anything. Of course it didn’t help that we had some bumps in the road, I started bleeding and I was terrified.

So I quit my job, stopped doing things I loved, and secluded myself. I was afraid of working out, afraid of being on my feet all day, and afraid of every single person who coughed or sneezed. I felt this intense INTENSE urge to protect myself, and more importantly the life I was trying to grow. I didn’t write about my struggles, and I stopped talking to my friends because I was ashamed.

I tried to work through these feelings, and other feelings that these ones stirred up all alone. I’ve been through worse, other people have been through worse, I’ll. Be. Fine. I’m always fine, there’s always a tomorrow. And holy shit did that make it so much worse, and make me so fucking depressed.

I tried so hard everyday to work toward the future, a future I was neither sure of, or even interested in. All I could think about was keeping the baby safe, how hard it is to be a mom, a wife, what even is a career. If this is my last pregnancy, then what will my future be? All I know is carrying babies, holy shit everything terrified me.

I decided I needed more help then I could give myself, and I started therapy.

Why am I deciding to share this with all of you? Because I need everyone to know, that those people you look up to on social media/in real life don’t post/tell you everything. Everyone gets to a point where they have to ask for help, and there is no shame in it.

Since starting therapy about a month ago, I’ve had multiple people I look up to confide in me that they also, go to therapy, have gone to therapy or think they should go to therapy. (Stopping here to shout out to Brooke who is literally the easiest part of my life, and I’m so grateful to her for supporting me in my search to get better.) Sometimes “self care” feels like work, and therapy is no exception but it’s worth it.

I’ve spoken so many times about villages and strong women, and this continues to be so relevant in my life. I’ve learned recently that having a village is key to healing so thank you to a few people:

And every other friend who sees me, and understands that I love them, and I’m in a healing place, not ignoring them. I’m ready to put the work in, lean in, reclaim my time, take charge of my life, be the person I really am.

So now, I’m trying to learn how to let go of the past, forgive & be kind to myself, and not worry so much about the future. For the last day of Womens History Month, I just want to tell all of my dear sweet friends this:
Your feelings matter.
Healing is hard but important work.
You are more than your traumas.

I see you.
You don’t have to be Wonder Woman to be worthy.
Rainbows come after rain.