If you’re just joining, may I suggest you read the first part of this entry…
…I couldn’t believe my eyes!! The second line wasn’t even a squinter, or a break the test apart to see it better, or a hold it up at the exactly perfect angle to see the positive line. IT WAS POSITIVE! A noise exited my body…something between a moan, a scream, a squeal, and a cry, and I just immediately starting praying and giving thanks. I couldn’t believe it! I WAS PREGNANT!!
The news was so exciting, I just had to take another. BOOM. POSITIVE! And DARKER. All of the excitement made me feel faint, and I lay in bed just staring at the two sets of two lines. The joy I felt is really indescribable, and I couldn’t wait to share the news with Jimmy.
But, I decided to wait until the morning, test again, and see if it was really true. Just in case I was a freak who stored the trigger shot longer than a normal person. We stayed at my in-laws that night, and I don’t think I slept a wink. I kept randomly crying, praying, and the smile on my face was permanent.
New day, new test. POSITIVE again! And darker! And showed up almost instantly. I felt so so lucky. I could not believe IVF worked for us on our first try! All of the needles, ultrasounds, even the friggin Crinone suppositories, all so worth it. I could not have been more thankful.
I was rushed to get ready to go pick pumpkins with my family, and didn’t have a good opportunity to tell Jimmy yet. I decided to wait until we got home to MA, and tell him how I had always planned. It would be worth the wait. I felt giddy every time I thought about telling him. And, I felt so wonderful knowing that just my embryo and I knew the little secret. The whole time picking pumpkins and chasing my nephews around, I was filled with so much joy knowing that I had their little cousin growing inside me. That next year I would be carrying our baby in a little sling at the pumpkin patch. I watched pregnant women, and little families of all kinds go by. I felt a part of something brand new and exciting; I was going to know their joy soon. Again, I spent the day randomly crying, laughing, and really just floating around.
We got back to my in-laws house, and I started playing like crazy (like I always do) with my nephews. This time, though, I started to feel a little dizzy. Is this my first pregnancy symptom? How exciting! I listened to my body and took a rest, smiling away at my secret I couldn’t wait to share.
That night I tested again. A moment of panic washed over me as the line was not as dark as it was in the morning. Not to worry, I thought, it’s going to be darkest at FMU (first morning urine). Another sleepless night as I waited for morning to come to test again.
I tested again in the morning, and the panic stuck around. The line was darker than the night before, but not as dark as the previous morning. The whole day I talked myself into not testing that night. That the sticks were driving me insane, and I had no control of the outcome. I held strong, and decided to hold off on telling Jimmy.
The next morning I tested again. The line was still there, but fainter still. The joy I had felt was slowly turning to anger and a deep, deep sadness. I tried to talk myself into staying positive, that the embryo needed me to be positive and not stressed. Try as I may, I could feel myself slowly drifting into a dark place. I fumbled through the day, randomly crying, but this time at the loss I was already feeling.
The next morning I tested again. I got a squinter. A fucking squinter. Barely visible. If another person looked at it I am not sure if they would be able to see it, or think I was crazy. I could not believe it. Deeper into the darkness I fell.
I decided to come clean with Jimmy. I showed him every stick, and took him through my journey. He was angry I had tested, and didn’t really know how to react. He told me they weren’t real positives; it was just the trigger that stayed in my system. Now I understand his point of view, but at that time, it was not what I needed to hear, and deeper I fell.
I had my beta test, and for some reason, hope returned as I waited for the phone call. I prayed the whole day as I waited and waited. Just like how the two week wait feels like an eternity, the 8 hour wait for your beta results feels even longer. When I finally got the call I ran out of work to hear the news. As soon as I heard the nurse’s voice, though, I knew. I knew it was not good. She told me I still had HCG in my blood, but not enough to qualify as a positive result. She instructed me to stop all meds, and she would see me again next week.
I just sat the in my car, numb, for I don’t know how long. At some point anger kicked in, and hot furious tears streamed down my face as I screamed and hit the steering wheel. I had a friend from work drop my things at the end of the end of the stairs, and I sped home. The radio can be so cruel during times of need. “Like I’m Gonna Lose You” mocked me through the sound waves, and I fell apart deeper. When I got home, I vomited, then lay in bed. I sent Jimmy a text asking him to come home. Jimmy likes to talk through situations, while I DO NOT; I need time to think things through before I am ready to talk. He tried to call a few times, and every time I just text him to come home. I sent my boss an email explain my absence, and really struggled with how to put it into words. The whole situation didn’t feel real yet.
When Jimmy got home he held me, and tried to comfort me. Sounds were escaping from me that I hadn’t heard since I found my mom. They seemed so foreign. Jimmy tried to say all the right things, and be the strong one. I could hear him, but I couldn’t process the words. I felt like there was nothing behind my eyes, and my mind and body had shut off. All I wanted to do was sleep.
A couple of days later, it started. I remember putting on a front, and going to a neighbor’s Halloween party with Jimmy (he was great about trying to get me to do “normal” things). So many times I just sat there wondering which glob of tissue (periods after cycling are the WORST) was my baby. Why my body couldn’t hold the pregnancy. Why the cycle hadn’t worked. Why I tested positive. Why I even tested in the first place. Why I couldn’t feel anything except for grief. Why I was so angry. Why I felt betrayed by everyone, everything, and especially by my own body.
I wondered who he or she was. I wondered what he or she would have looked like. I wondered who he or she would have been friends with. I wondered if he or she was athletic. I wondered if he or she had Jimmy’s smile. I wondered if he or she would have the softest skin like my mama did.
Most of all, I thought about how much happiness he or she was bringing my mama in Heaven. How my mama was happily parading him or her around.
Looking back now, I am so thankful that if it was going to end the way it did, that it did so early. Before being able to be seen on ultrasound. Before hearing a heartbeat. Despite being grateful for these things, and despite scientific jargon about what I actually lost, to me, I lost a child. You may call it a clump of cells, but to me, it was the closest I have ever been to being a mother. The blow was all-consuming. You can’t really understand what it is like unless you have gone through it…and it is not a feeling that I want any single reader of this blog to feel.
Amidst the darkness, there was a little glimmer of hope. We still had our one frozen embryo. We wasted no time getting started on the next chapter: Infertility-Our Struggle: IVF #2 FET.