Day 438

As the war in Israel presses on, we continue praying for the immediate release of our hostages. On day 438, there are trickles of news about a possible deal. We're holding on to any thread of hope. The hostages, soldiers, and Israelis are constantly on my mind while trying to navigate our daily lives here.   

I had an appointment with my new doctor yesterday. My previous doctor, the one I love and the one who helped us build our family until now, has announced she's leaving my clinic and transferring all her patients. We had met briefly before my 40th birthday when I panicked about my age but not yet ready to transfer then. At the time she reassured me we had time because the clinic takes patients up to age 55. 

When I got the announcement about her move a few months ago I immediately got on my doctor's schedule for one last consultation. Not only to make sure my protocol is documented for the next doctor but also so that I understand it. 

So yesterday I reviewed my protocol with the new doctor. She's a "measure twice, cut once" kind of personality so I think we'll get along well. She mentioned how strange it is that they couldn't get the cervix open at the last procedure. We decided together to repeat the mock transfer, even though I had it done within the last year. Partly to confirm that there isn't anything new there to address, and mainly to make sure we're not stuck at an actual transfer with an embryo that has no method of getting in. I'm scheduled to repeat the mock this week. Once that's done, the only thing left is to order medication and decide if we want to proceed.  

We're still dealing with a lot. A lot. But at the same time I think we both realize we can't put our lives on hold forever because of the other things happening. 

There are long-term decisions that feel impossible to make until this transfer happens, almost regardless of the outcome. The TTC phase of our lives feels like an unfinished story, and we can’t fully move on to the next chapter until it’s complete. 

The majority of the past decade was focused on building our family, and now that we’re transitioning out of that mindset, new questions and considerations are bubbling to the surface. Every day since October 7 I've been re-evaluating everything in my life: my career, where we live, how we want to raise our kids, where we feel most safe. More than just living with "no regrets," life is short and I want to make the most of the time we have with thoughtful and intentional steps toward our future and our kids future. 

Day 399

[I'm writing this in mid-December but back-dated it for timeline accuracy.] 

Friday morning, Nov 8, I went in to the fertility clinic for a repeat EMMA/Alice (uterine biopsy) yet again. It's been years since my last treatment. 

For one, the office has been significantly upgraded. No more radio with bunny ears antenna in the waiting room. The clinic was moved up a few floors to a completely renovated state-of-the-art facility. Electronic check in, more staff, and bright, fresh space. 

For another, the protocol for the biopsy isn't even part of standard practice anymore. But because of past success, no harm in doing it, and trying to keep everything the same they agreed to make it part of my treatment.  

To summarize, it was horrifically painful and unsuccessful. I was on cycle day 25, which was within the parameters of when they want to do this kind of procedure. No matter what they tried to shove up there they couldn't get the cervix open enough for the biopsy pipe thing. They brought in a fresh team. Had me empty my bladder. Took a break. It didn't work and the procedure was deemed unsuccessful. 

After discussing with my doctor, she was confident that it was unnecessary to reschedule and we could proceed, if we wish, without it. 

Day 343

Our nation is enduring a profoundly challenging time of deep mourning. Most recently, the tragic loss of the six hostages—Ori, Carmel, Eden, Hersh, Almog, and Alex—has sent shockwaves around the world, particularly affecting the Jewish community. For over 11 months, we have been grappling with the heavy burden of war, grieving those lost on and since October 7th, and feeling the strain of rising antisemitism from all directions. The one year mark looms ahead and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. 

In an effort to feel control over something I started a decluttering project. I schedule a monthly donation pickup and commit to at least 4 bags to donate. It forces me to go through the house and fill up at least that many. It's usually more, and some additional bags for the trash. Over time it's making a difference. I'm really good at getting rid of things we don't use (unfortunately I'm equally good at ordering unnecessary things online) but I have a hard time parting with baby clothes. 

I saved most baby items from my oldest to youngest. They were born different seasons, and they're different sizes, so of course most of the baby clothes don't fit. I try to tell myself that if I'm lucky enough to have another baby we can buy more clothes. I also remind myself that it's stupid for the clothes to sit in a bin in my closet when there are actual infants who may benefit from them if the clothes got donated. So I've pruned the bins multiple times to pare it down to my top favorites and saved those. They hold a sentimental value and I can't quite part with them yet. 

In another stab at control, I set myself a weight loss goal and also put together a list of "prizes" to get for myself when I reach it. Logically, I know that with exercise and a calorie deficit I can lose weight. Realistically, it takes time and patience and effort. For a minute I considered buying a treadmill - weighing the pros and cons I realize that aside from the cost, I don't want to deal with assembly or maintenance or finding a spot to house it, not to mention the shame of having to post it on fb marketplace or similar when it doesn't get used. I started blocking off time for walks on my calendar and we'll see if that works.

I pray that the hostages get released or rescued, alive, and reunited with their families soon, and that our soldiers come home safely. I hope better days are up ahead, just around the corner. Shabbat shalom.

Day 329

Today is the 329th day since October 7, 2023. The war in Israel continues, with hostages remaining captive in truly horrific conditions. How is it possible that life goes on as normal while this nightmarish reality unfolds just a few miles from their homes? For the rest of us over here, every happiness, every success, and every milestone in life is overshadowed by the reality that the world has accepted evil and continues to live with it. We continue to pray for the IDF soldiers fighting to keep Israel safe, and the speedy return of the hostages, alive, back to their families. This is a heartbreaking video of family members shouting their loved one's names at the border; it's impossible to watch without crying.

Life keeps moving forward, both as a blessing and a challenge during this difficult time. Thankfully, the kids have started school. The last few weeks of summer after camp ended were rough—there was no structure, and we were just getting through each day until bedtime. They are a joy and a blessing and I'm grateful every day for them.

We're still dealing with our personal home life challenge of getting a special needs adult set up to get into a group home. To say it's been a challenge is an understatement. There's frustration at why this is so hard and taking so long. There's guilt in having my time split away from my kids. There's exhaustion at trying to juggle it all while working full time. As a stress-eater, I've put on over 10 lbs this past year. On top of being emotionally and mentally drained, I'm also not feeling or looking my best physically because of the extra weight. I'm hoping something will give soon so that we can move the process forward and be the first pickle to get everything else on the right path.

Day 315

Today is the 315th day since October 7, 2023. The war in Israel, and the hostages still being held captive, are constantly on my mind. I know many Jews feeling the same way, recognizing that there are varying degrees of this feeling depending on how close one is to the situation. For 315 days we've been praying to get our hostages back. There's currently a significant summit happening in Doha and I'm hoping there is some sort of agreement reached that gets the hostages back and doesn't compromise future safety of Israel. 

It's also day 7 of my cycle. I scheduled a mock embryo transfer for today because the results are good for a year and the last one I had was over three years ago. I don't know if we're warming up to the idea of transferring another one, but because this is cycle-dependent and within my control I decided to just get this done. I was a few minutes away from the clinic when I checked my phone for the suite number - it has been a few years. Only then I noticed that the appointment was scheduled for a completely new location. I was early for my appointment but even with the buffer time and speeding and assuming I'd hit no traffic, I would still arrive 5 minutes after the buffer window. Not to mention that it's a new location so I'm unfamiliar with parking and need to find the place and possibly fill out whatever paperwork wasn't done online. I called the office in a mild panic and they rescheduled me for Monday. It's the only day left this cycle they can do it so I had to shift several things on my calendar to make it work.

I could have also just canceled it. Why am I pushing it? I'm not sure. I recognize that doing this now doesn't mean we've decided we're transferring the last embryo. I want to believe that we'll get there, and soon, but know it's not just up to me. 

I also feel that I need to guard my heart. Transferring means that I'm putting out in the universe that "I want another baby." That is the one and only reason to transfer regardless of any other consideration on the pros/cons list. Admitting it means being vulnerable and hoping for the best but knowing it doesn't always end that way, based on too much experience. Transferring with the knowledge that it would be the end of our TTC journey puts extra pressure. 

Even knowing we're still in the process of considering it, I'm worried about delaying the timeline. For starters, my age. But more alarming is the state of the country and where things stand regarding fertility treatment. This article is just one example. For many reasons, I want to transfer and put this chapter behind us, one way or another. 

Day 283

The October 7, 2023 attack on our nation changed us all, collectively and individually. It started with a brutal massacre by terrorists on innocent civilians on a holy day in Israel, escalated into full blown war that has been going on for 283 days. Since then antisemitism has skyrocketed in America and globally. On the surface, our day to day goes on but in reality life feels unstable and fragile with a sense of urgency constantly bubbling just under the surface.

Almost immediately after the attack, I felt the need to go to Israel and help in any way I could. For the first time in my life, I regretted not serving in the IDF even though that wasn't done by girls back then. As months passed, this feeling grew more intense, pulling me toward helping my people. The intensity only subsided when I signed up for a solidarity mission and bought my ticket to Israel. Though it was just a small contribution, it felt right to help. We visited injured soldiers, sat with grieving families, packed food for those in need, and spent time picking vegetables to help feed the country and assist farmers who lost their workers to the war effort. Visiting the sites of the terror attacks—such as the Nova festival memorial, Sderot, and Tekoma where the burned cars are stored—was indescribable. The sheer horror of that day is unfathomable and it felt necessary to bear witness and help carry the responsibility of sharing the facts about what happened.

I wear the hostage tags in solidarity with those still held captive and their families who are enduring unending suffering not knowing the fate of their loved ones. After nine months they feel like they've gotten tighter and at the same time it feels wrong to take them off when there are still 120 captives in hell. 

My personal life has taken some turns as well. For years, I debated whether to leave my job, enjoying the benefits but feeling stagnant and bored. I occasionally looked for other jobs without real intention of leaving, fearing change and worrying about the loss of my flexible schedule. In September, I found a job posting on LinkedIn and contacted the hiring director, whom I knew. After several intense weeks of interviews and negotiating, I received an official offer letter and accepted. The new job is similar yet different and better than my last one, though I'm still finding my footing. Despite some imposter syndrome and questioning the move due to the different pace than I'm used to, I haven't regretted it.

We're also still managing the situation with the special needs adult in our life. This has become increasingly complicated over time, adding significant stress to our lives and our marriage. We're working on the application to place this person in a group home, but there are so many barriers along the way. In many ways, our life feels stuck because of it.

We revisited the topic of another transfer and agreed that, given our current high levels of stress, it wouldn't be the right move at this time. While I agreed to temporarily table the discussion, I feel a lot of resentment and frustration about it. The only correct reason to transfer is if we're both ready for another baby, and he's not quite on board. I can't even bring up the subject without it striking a nerve and starting an argument. Considering everything we went through to get those embryos, and yes - me specifically - it feels like a punishment not to be able to transfer. I can only hope we somehow get on the same page, and eventually get to a point where we have the peace of mind to close this chapter of our life. 

In addition to everything else, many people we know are moving to Israel - a concept referred to as "making Aliya" - due to disillusionment with America's politics and rising antisemitism, in addition to this growing compelling need to be in Israel. We teach our children to value Israel, so it feels hypocritical not to live there. I love being in Israel and want to support it, but living there is very different than visiting on vacation. There are significant challenges to making Aliya, such as financial hurdles, no separation between church and state, mandatory military service, cultural differences, and, oh yeah, active war. Despite these obstacles, I would consider moving. However, this is another tinderbox of a conversation where we can't even discuss it. He says the pros don't outweigh the cons, and he doesn't want to forever be an immigrant. I understand that on some level. Even so, I want to do right by our children and give them the values and childhood I missed out on. I don't know what the right decision is and feel it's not the right time to push the topic until I solidify how I feel about it. In many ways, until we get that special needs adult settled it's not a relevant conversation anyway. Another reason for resentment.

What I do know is that I feel uneasy. I feel like I'm not doing enough, or fast enough. I'm not seizing enough moments or creating enough memories. Life is short and I don't want to coast. I want to find the right path and put all my energy and resources into going full speed ahead. The question is: what's the target?