I have been 34 years old for a week now. It feels different somehow.

34 isn’t old but when I was younger I thought it sounded so grown-up, solid. Your 30’s were when everything was supposed to be settled; spouse, home , kids etc. It doesn’t feel like I thought 34 would feel like. I feel a lot younger, which is good I suppose.

The one big sadness about 34 is the baby situation. The grief actually intensifies daily. It gets more and more painful to see the truth. I will likely never have a baby. I will likely never get to even try.

It’s like knives to my heart to type it.

How can that be? I waited so long to find a person to share my life with. I waited so long for a wedding. I tried to be traditional. I researched and planned for over a year before we stepped into a doctor’s office. I charted, did the whole microscope thing. I learned to sleep on my left side.

How did I get here? I am not even sure what here is anymore. I am trapped between two worlds.

I push a double stroller with two gorgeous children in it but still ache at the sight of pregnant bellies. Every announcement is like a giant punch to the gut, even with a sleeping child in my arms. Someone calls me mommy but I long for someone who doesn’t even exist. It’s bizarre, confusing and so sad.

It is what it is though. We do not have coverage for treatment and we all know how expensive being OOP is. We spent everything we had saved, and doubled it, on S’s tries. I am not sure it makes sense to keep on hoping anymore. I think I need to try harder to accept that this isn’t going to happen for me. I just need to let it go even though I know it will haunt me all the days of my life.

I know myself. I will always wonder what my body could have done, what I could have created. I will wonder about the sight of two pink lines, hearing a  heartbeat and I will always miss the framed u/s  picture.

A bitter pill to swallow.

Chapter 34 will be okay though. Each day I become a better version of myself. I think I get better with time and for that I am grateful.