Another Curve Ball

About a year and a half ago Micah and I decided that we were ready to add another child to our family. We have always gotten pregnant very quickly and we expected it to happen within a few months. 10 months later we found ourselves seeking assistance from a fertility clinic. I was approaching the age of  38 and wondered if our chance had already passed. Blood work revealed that I was right. My egg reserve was low, very low. We were told that without fertility treatments we would most likely not conceive. So we ventured down that path. Several months of medications and injections and ultrasounds. All fruitless. We gave up and with heavy hearts we accepted that our family was complete. Then one day, several months later I was late. It couldn’t be! But there were those two lines staring back at me. Pregnant. 
We were shocked and elated! It surely was meant to be! I had zero anxiety. Sure that this would just work out. We spent the next two weeks texting each other Baby names and sharing a secret excitement. I don’t know where my optimism came from, but I was sure that everything would be fine.
Then the day of our first ultrasound arrived. We couldn’t wait to get a glimpse at our little embryo. Just over 6 weeks pregnant and we should be able to hear a heartbeat via ultrasound! The appointment was full of disappointment. No baby was to be found. Just a small empty sac. No heartbeat, no baby, no baby names, no fifth Fuerst.  I cried, hard. The Doctor explained that it didn’t look promising, but there was still a chance. I knew there wasn’t. We scheduled an appointment to come back three days later. Another ultrasound and another round of lab work. All confirmation of what we already knew. No baby. An “abnormal pregnancy “. “Not viable”. 

Why? Why after finally coming to terms with our family being compete did my body decide to get pregnant? Why trick us into believing that we could actually welcome a third child into our home? It’s cruel and unfair. I am so angry with my body. It has once again failed me. Failed our family. Our fertility journey has now come to an end on this sour note. I am all out of optimism. No more medications and shots. We are done, we are complete. This is not how I pictured any of this. I miss the naive woman who believed that she at she had control over her fertility. She believed that she could decide how many children she would have. Now I am a passive receiver of information. Talking to a fertility specialist about my “poor pregnancy history” and “mature eggs”. It’s all too much. I am so grateful for my two living daughters. And as much as I would have loved to bring home a sibling for them it is just not a reality. 
So now we hone in on our family as it is. We are a fabulous family of four. Two parents and two living children. This is not what we pictured, but it is our reality. And as much as we want to add another child it is simply not our reality. Once again we find ourselves facing the reality that we are done. Two beautiful daughters and twins that we hold in our hearts.