So, the twins officially turned one last week. One. It's been a whole year since I nuzzled them inside, since I was the only one who felt their every kick and squirm. To be honest, in the days leading up to their birthday, I got nervous. Nervous that they were growing to fast, of course, but also nervous about the franticness I was beginning to feel. As their birthday loomed, my desire to have another biological child, to be pregnant again, started eating away at me. I could feel the obsession coming back. The compulsive behaviors, the thoughts from which I never seemed to get a break. I was afraid that once this huge milestone passed, these feelings would only get worse.
But then I did something I haven't done since the twins were tiny. I took a drive during nap time. I loaded my son and daughter in the backseat, and while they slept peacefully, I drove and listened to their lullabies. I drove through the beautiful sunshine; past cornfields and soybeans, sustenance growing from the ground; past windmills, energy being created before my eyes. And I found it. I found peace. I was finally able to say to myself that if we never have another biological child, that is okay. If I never feel a little one kick in my womb again, that is okay.
I feel selfish even writing this...I have a son and a daughter, how much more could I want? But a big family has always been the plan. And when infertility wreaked havoc on that plan, it was devastating. Further, I would love to have a more traditional birth experience. I still grieve the twins' birthday in the sense that I didn't get to hold them. In fact, I didn't even get to touch them in the delivery room. No kiss. No nuzzle. No physical contact.
So we will do a frozen cycle with our one remaining embryo. And we will fervently pray that he or she makes his way to us. But I am thankful to be moving towards a place where the alternative to a positive FET is somewhat less scary.