“I’m done,” I repeated to my husband for the millionth time that week.
Just months earlier, we saw our reproductive endocrinologist. We miscarried for the fourth time and wanted to follow up to see if there’s anything more they could do. They told me our next steps were trying IVF, or we could do an exploratory surgery where they would remove my questionable fallopian tube which was scarred from my ectopic pregnancy. We weighed our options, and even checked with our insurance about the surgery.
And then, our family endured a very different kind of loss. Our foster baby returned to his biological family after being a part of our family for a year and a half. I was pretty sure my heart had just taken as much as a heart could take while still beating.