Not What I Had Planned to Post Today

We didn't receive our scheduled scan for Ken today.

Not because he was partying too hard the night before, running a little late, or up to any of his usual antics.

We know now. It was just too hard for him to tell us...

Instead, we received an email from Dr. S asking for the best number to reach us.

I knew it was bad news.

By the time the phone was ringing I was crying, and we both just stared at it, neither one of us wanting to pick it up.

I handed it to Duane, and as he was listening I'm asking "Is he gone?" And Duane says "Well, no" and before he can finish I take the phone. I should have let him finish...

Now Duane is crying and as I'm listening to Dr. S, he is telling me, "Tell her we'll love him no matter what. Whatever is wrong with him we don't care. We want him."

Ken has a cystic hygroma. Dr. S is going to terminate the pregnancy.

I am glad that in that split second before Dr. S gave me the news, Duane said what he said. In my heart, I need to know that if we were given the choice, we would have fought for Ken. Unfortunately, there is no choice. His condition is fatal and we know that Dr. S knows what is best for everyone involved.

Our surrogate is sad. She is not talking. I pray that she will be matched with another loving couple, and that the sadness will fade as she helps another couple realize their dreams.

I woke up this morning, poised to write a lovely post about how much better today was as compared to three years ago today... the day we lost our first set of twins.

It wasn't better. It wasn't worse.

It was the same. The same heart wrenching sadness of loss that has haunted us since we first embarked on our family building journey. Unfortunately, we cannot insulate ourselves from it-- no matter how much money we spend, how many egg donors or surrogates or different doctors we use, no matter how many gestational milestones we pass. Somehow, this sadness, it always returns...