Well, ladies, I am not pregnant.
But, it’s all good. I recovered over the weekend.
Let me tell you a little story about the two-week wait that tricked me:
When I say I started feeling similar symptoms as last time (chemical pregnancy), I’m not lying. I really did feels those symptoms. The lightheadedness started on Monday during our drive home from a family trip to Massachusetts. It kind of, sort of got progressively more intense … maybe …?
I use the Endometrin suppositories, which are pure white. On Wednesday night, I got excited because the discharge was discolored. This was exactly what happened last time: Six days after the transfer, I had started spotting. I was encouraged that my body was showing repeat signs of being pregnant.
Well, “it” and other “stuff” got to the point where I actually told my husband, “I think this is it.” and wrote this:
Thursday, September 5, 2013
I’m scared … to admit it.
Should I just admit it to myself? I mean, this feels identical. But it’s not just that it feels identical. It’s that this is what pregnant feels like … even though how would I know?
But I just do. And with every new day, I still feel it just like I did yesterday. Does that make sense?
But I’ll question myself a million times today.
Right now, though, I just feel it.
I told my mom I thought I was pregnant too. I started praying for a lasting pregnancy, not just to get pregnant.
Well, Thursday night the discharge and discoloration and spotting and … whatever you want to call it … became more than what I felt comfortable with. Though I still believed it was okay. You know how you talk yourself down to protect yourself but still know deep down that it’s all okay still? That’s what I did. I told myself not to worry unless it started to flow.
Friday morning, it started to flow. I asked my nurse if I really had to wait until the following Wednesday to test. She told to come in on Monday (today).
Friday was hell. It was just a bad day. It was the kind of bad day that can only end with chocolate ice cream bars and Disney movies. I had my first “it’s over” moment on Friday. The bleeding was light, but I couldn’t believe anymore. I called my mom and told her everything; she and my husband still had hope.
Saturday was interesting. It was light all day. I even let some hope in. We went on a walk, and I felt lightheaded the whole time. I started believing again and even told myself, “Today I would be/am four weeks pregnant.”
But, as I was waiting for my husband to scoop me up after retrieving our take-out, I felt it. I was hoping it was just Endometrin discharge. It kind of was, but this was also the “load” that let me know it was actually ending. It was the most period-like passage I’d had.
Yesterday was basically filled with recovery. I felt like crap after my shower, felt like crap after our walk, but just told myself it was “everything else,” not a baby.
Today I started reading about bleeding during pregnancy (not that I hadn’t thoroughly researched/pondered this topic already). I feel lightheaded today, too. A tiny part of me said, “Maybe,” but don’t worry, I didn’t get too ahead of myself.
My nurse called my cell phone a little before 2 p.m. My cell phone doesn’t get good service at work, so I let it go to voice mail. I didn’t want to have crappy service and hear things or not hear things. It’s just that I wouldn’t be surprised if the connection cracked during the “not” in “You’re not pregnant.” You know what I mean? I thought she would call my office phone; she’s knows she’s allowed to. She didn’t, so I went outside and listened to the voice mail. It wasn’t surprising, though my heart was still racing a bit. Of course, I knew what she was going to say just by her tone. I didn’t even listen to the whole voice mail. Who cares? It’s over. Another one bites the dust. What a complete waste.
So, just know that I’m okay. Honestly, I have gotten over the hump of this failure. I am recovering.
I don’t know what’s going to happen next.
All I know is that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t “gear up” for another cycle with hope in my heart and positive thinking and all of that bullshit. At some point, it is biology. Actually, that’s all it ever is, but God teaches us different lessons in different ways regarding “luck” or “miracles” or whatever. I don’t ask why anymore, haven’t for a while. It doesn’t matter anymore. It just “is.” I have poor egg quality because I do. It doesn’t have to be because I’m the scum of the earth and shouldn’t reproduce. It doesn’t have to mean anything; it’s just the way it is. I do wonder, though, if my babies won’t suffer from depression, anxiety, mental health problems in general; I wonder if they will be happier people than I am; I wonder if their life will be better because they are not biologically related to me. Even during the early days of my infertility, I asked myself why I wanted to have babies so badly. I felt selfish at times. “Do you really want to bring a baby into this world who carries your genetics?!” Let’s get real: I’m going to be their mother. I will be their comforter, their teacher, their role model for the things I have to offer. They will be my babies, no matter whose eggs they were built from. For goodness sake, I am undoubtedly my dog’s mother. I mean, you can’t deny it. AND SHE’S A DOG.
Okay, you know where I’m going with this … My husband hasn’t given up on my eggs yet. I have; I don’t know what my doctor thinks. We have paid for six embryo transfers (fresh of frozen) or we get our money back. This was number four. There’s a reason there’s six tries, I know. But, seriously, basically all of my fresh cycles have sucked. We can analyze the outcomes all day long, but they all have stunk pretty bad … and have actually gotten progressively worse with each attempt when you consider the day 5 reports.
All I know is that if the consensus is to keep trying, I will proceed with much caution. I will guard every hope, every thought, every sign … everything.
Because I just can’t do this anymore.
I will admit, though, snuggling up to the hus in bed and rating potential baby mamas like we’re rating people on Hot or Not is pretty interesting … pretty depressing … pretty hilarious … pretty fun … It’s just our journey to our baby.
Ugh, this post doesn’t even come close to a summary of the last few days … of analyzing every trip the restroom … of the relief that maybe closure is on its way … of actually researching the due date of my maybe baby or babies … of everything.
I’ve not had a big girl drink in 107 days. Is tonight the night?
Your thoughts are more than welcome. Have you been at this crossroads before?