A recap. This year has been a lot, for most everyone, I believe. My husband and I are fortunate to be financially stable and not to have any questions about job security in the midst of this pandemic, which I know is not a given. And I appreciated that, as my own art shows were all cancelled and my art income tanked.

But this has been a hard year. Remember a year ago, when Trump had an Iranian general assassinated, and I was afraid he would start a war? That seems like a hundred years ago.

And then I thought Covid would be a small bump in the road - I never expected anything like the toll it has taken, including our own family loss - my Uncle Dave. Brutal. I hadn't seen Uncle Dave in years and it hurts to know I won't again, on this earth, and I can't introduce his charming, grumpy self to my husband, as I had hoped to do one day.

In March, we were all set to begin IVF treatment, when it got put on hold as "elective" due to Covid. Fortunately it was only delayed by a couple of months.

Anyone who has done fertility treatment knows that time feels in short supply, and it's a huge concern to delay. Particularly with low ovarian reserve like I have. But we got the ball rolling in June and did three egg retrievals, complete with Covid tests before each one. And now we have four embryos in the freezer as a result.

I also had a hysteroscopy to remove a polyp, and was gearing up for the embryo transfer, when that was interrupted by getting pregnant naturally (yay!) and then immediately miscarrying at five weeks (boo!).

So once we get my system back on track again, we can go ahead with the transfer for real this time. We did not have enough embryos to do genetic testing on them, so we can't be sure of they are healthy or not. But if we have a strong, healthy one, we should have a good shot. The fact that I got pregnant, even though it didn't last, is hopeful in that regard.

Plenty of web sites will tell you that IVF is a rough road, and that is true. I wish the medical side acknowledged that somehow. It should be like a football game, with camaraderie and high fives and claps on the back for making it through grueling experiences like a damn badass. It makes everything worse to go through brutal emotional and physical ordeals, in a sterile setting where you are supposed to be polite and restrained, and then say "hi how are you fine how are you." And then go home and fight with insurance and billing, and try to get all the drugs you need on time even though the nurse didn't put the order in early enough to be sure. There's no emotional acknowledgement or release in that system.

I'd like the warrior status of women doing these sorts of things to be acknowledged. Doing all that while acting normal is just not fair. It has taken me a lot of journaling and a lot of crying on the phone to my mom to make it through.

No one really understands it unless they have been through it. It's a tough time and it requires strength and fucking fortitude. As I'm sure motherhood as a whole does, and I will feel that when I get there.

We still have a way to go, but there is hope. I wonder if the polyp was blocking things, based on the fact that I got pregnant immediately after having it removed. (It's hopeful, at least.)

And the baby grew great guns, based on the HCG levels, which increase along with the growth of the embryo. When I miscarried last time, two years ago, the HCG level was 14. This time I miscarried when the HCG was 8464. I don't think that first embryo ever got off the ground. And the miscarriage was just getting my period, with no trouble. This one was painful, a lot of bleeding, heavy, passing tissue and I've felt tired. But I'm through the hard part and feeling good again.

It gives me hope that when we have a a strong embryo, we will be successful. By far, the main reason for miscarriages, especially early ones, is a genetic chromosomal abnormality, so the baby wouldn't be viable, or my body doesn't feel it's up to snuff. So I trust my body to make that call. If the baby had a problem that would mean it couldn't have a successful, healthy life, I'm glad for it to be spared. It's a very pragmatic blessing that is built into Mother Nature and I appreciate it.

A side note: a huge percentage of pregnancies end in miscarriage, I've heard up to half, and it is clear that nature has a plan in this way. Many of these pregnancies end before the woman realizes she is pregnant, so this number is different than percentage of confirmed pregnancies that end in miscarriage.

While it is a hard thing to experience, it is some comfort to know that it is Mother Nature looking out for us all, and not all embryos are meant to be born. It's part of the system and does not invalidate the sanctity of life.

These losses are tragic, but not without purpose.

It helps to consider, also, that we who go through this now are the daughters of many generations who have been through similar struggles. If not IVF, then loss: miscarriage, loss of children, difficult pregnancies and births, all alongside the good times. It is some comfort to think that we aren't alone, as women and as mothers.

I've been doing genealogy research and seeing all these women - my foremothers - having children year after year, and seeing how many die in early childhood. It makes me grateful that the outlook is better now, for babies who are born (though there is need for improvement there still). I appreciate the control we have as modern women in the choice about how many babies to have, and when. Though perhaps it's a trade off for waiting till 37 to start my family, and then wind up fighting infertility.

But here we are. I can't find that I have regrets. I wish it were easier, but I am where I need to be and if I had tried to be ready for children before I was, it would have been hard on us for other reasons. I needed time to learn to be vulnerable and trust my partner after old heartbreaks, and to build a solid relationship. I don't know what's going to happen, but I have faith we are getting to where we need to be and that our children will come along in their own sweet time.

I wish we lived for two hundred years, if only to have more time with our forbears. At the age of forty, I now wish I could speak to my grandparents and great grandparents. Both because I would value their perspective in a way I didn't consider at a younger age, and because I wish I could have their family knowledge and their viewpoint on cultural change.

Culture and technology change fast, and people, and embedded thought patterns, change slowly, or so I believe. That accounts for all this sense of "we have come so far and tried to be good, how did we get to 2020 and realize we are still racist?" And act shocked by that fact. Because we do make progress, and we do want to be better, but the lessons and fears we inherited take more than just some "racism is bad" slogans to uproot. They are deep seated insecurities that take time and relearning to root out. We are making progress, but it's not a done deal. It's going to take more work, more oversight to change the system, and more introspection and learning, to make soul of our country one of freedom, equality and decency.

Speaking of which, one casualty of 2020 is reasonable discourse with my parents about politics and current events. These last years have been polarizing, we all know. But that is such a small word for such a rift between me and my loved ones. In my family it has become an impossibility to have a reasonable conversation about current events.

I remember thinking, naive little me of 10 months ago, that at least a pandemic wouldn't be divisive, we could all agree on something so straightforward as a virus. Ha!

My parents are right-wing skeptical about the pandemic - they won't take the vaccine, they think the lockdowns do more harm than good, that mortality rates are overblown and generally seem to believe all the conspiracies you find on extreme right wing web sites.

I'd have thought that the death of my Dad's eldest brother (who was age 74 and in good health, by the way), might have gotten their attention, but it seems not.

As the vaccine roll out commences, I look forward to seeing some lessening of cases and deaths, but I know it's going to be a while yet before those inroads are made.

I am generally suspicious about pharmaceuticals too, but I will get a vaccine when I can safely, which is a bit in question because of my potential future pregnancy status. But we will see how that plays out. I will look for the version of the vaccine that has the fewest allergic reactions, since I have had anaphylactic reactions before. But I think it would be irresponsible not to do what I can to protect myself, and especially the people around me from this virus.

And, thank all goodness, we have a new president coming into office in a few weeks. That is a hopeful thing.

In case you wondered, yes, my parents do think that the election was rigged and Mom is still unsure who will be inaugurated come January 20th. And she is concerned that if (I say when) it's Biden, there will be states trying to secede from the Union. Needless to say, I'm not losing sleep over that one. But I would protest along with a huge percentage of the rest of the nation, if they were to overturn the election results and try to place Trump in spite of his loss. But I don't think there's any likelihood of that happening.

I do think Trump is an awful person, selfish and self-centered, and I can't wait for him to disappear into oblivion. I can't tell you the magnitude of the relieve I felt when he lost the election. For those several days after the election I did almost nothing but scroll Twitter, in a paralysis of waiting. Now I'm ready for some actual human decency and moral leadership to help guide us out of this pandemic and into a more stable America and world. It's not that I'm an especially big Biden fan, but I do think that he'll provide some stability and protect human rights that Trump has been trying to erode. (If you really want to gain my support, politicians, try getting money out of politics, protecting whistleblowers, increasing government transparency, scrapping Citizens United and making politicians answer to constituents, not donors and big money! Anywho...)

So it's a lot, this 2020. But I do think the energy is shifting, the wave is breaking.

Granted, the rumor mills and algorithm-driven "news" machine won't go away, so we will still have plenty of problems.

But I feel a strange optimism looking forward. I know we have a long road ahead, but I see glimmers of hope for my country, and for my own life, and that's a good start.