Posted by: Marisa | December 1, 2011

Sort of Pregnant. But Not.

This week John and I talked quite a bit about where we were last year when it came to baby-making because one year ago we were having a particularly difficult cycle. Last Thanksgiving I was in the dreaded two-week-wait after our third IVF cycle; the limbo between the embryo transfer and finding out if an embryo stuck and we’d have a baby. That meant that Thanksgiving was filled with hope, dread, and a serious lack of alcohol while we waited anxiously.

When The Day that marked the end of the nerve-wracking wait was here my doctors office called with the results of the blood test I’d taken that morning. I was pregnant. But I could tell from the tone of the voice on the other end of the phone that it wasn’t good news. My beta was low and they knew the pregnancy wouldn’t last through the weekend. I remember holding back the tears as I mumbled over the phone that I would have preferred not being pregnant at all.

I was emotional and exhausted. Failed cycle after failed cycle had completely worn me out and after all of that I couldn’t handle knowing that there was something happening inside me that just wasn’t going to make it. It felt like too much to handle and I could feel the meltdown building up inside me.

The only bit of luck in my life that day was that I wasn’t at work when the call came. I’d left to visit a friend for lunch and was outside her office waiting for her when it started. The minute she saw me she knew something was wrong and she knew enough to know it was bad.

She walked up to hug me and I melted in her arms;  sobbing uncontrollably in a way I’d always been able to hold off until I was alone in the confines of my house. Even as I was standing there with my head on her shoulder I couldn’t believe that I was so unable to control myself. Usually I was so good, too good, at holding the emotion back until I was alone. But today I was pregnant and in a few days I wouldn’t be. Years of trying, numerous doctors, hundreds of injections. All the pills and ultrasounds and procedures. All the deals with the devil, and wanting it so bad, and three three THREE failed IVF cycles. I was having a hard time breathing and my chest hurt.

I hit rock bottom that day…a rock bottom even deeper then the one I thought I’d hit after my first and my second failed rounds of IVF. Infertility has a way of getting progressively worse like that. I walked through the next days and weeks in a haze, smiled my way through a miserable Christmas, and said goodbye to 2010 with a complete disbelief that we had spent another entire year trying to start a family.

All I could do was hope that 2011 would be better.

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