Long story short: I decided a gestational carrier was the new best move for me, and I found a wonderful person to carry my babies.
Gestational carrying felt like such a dramatic solution to my problem, perhaps overdramatic, and yet I felt like it was the best path to navigating my infertility Bermuda Triangle. The three points of the triangle being: 1. The moral obligation I feel to give my embryos their best fighting chance at life. 2. Money 3. The emotional cost of doing anything (including the emotional cost of doing nothing. Inaction is as much a burden as action, and Lowell doesn't understand that completely.)
Sad story short: Me and the wonderful carrier broke up this weekend. We had had an amazing first date. We had both said how much we liked each other. We were both giddy about the relationship. We were both looking forward to the transfer in September. And then she decided it was best for her young family that she not risk a twin pregnancy by transferring two embryos. And I decided it was best for my family that I need someone to be willing to risk a twin pregnancy and implant two embryos. And there you have it. An impossible impasse. And a very sad break up.
Someone posted a wise but cliche thing that went something like "If you would regret worrying about what you are worrying about if you died tomorrow, you should let go of it today." Word. But after some self assessment, this isn't something that I can let go of. It is something that I will have to mourn. And historically, my mourning has been allowing myself to get on the yacht chartered to Who Knows Where, with a path through the Bermuda Triangle. You hope you land somewhere nice. But the ride is out of your control, and sometimes you wonder and hope you won't die getting to the destination.