So um yeah. What a fucked up day. I thought I’d come back after posting the news earlier today to just “word vomit” as my husband calls it. And it makes me feel better. I just want to minimize human interaction for the next few days. We found out while at a new European-style food market that just opened. We were buying handmade ravioli, herb bread green olives, two beautiful cheeses, ginger beer, and a Vosges chocolate chestnut honey bar for dessert. It was our own little afternoon picnic we had planned. I was at the register when the phone rang, and immediately handed Dan my card to pay with so I could rush to the window and face the music.
When the doc asked me, “do you have a moment to talk?”, I knew it was over.
I melted in the car for exactly 30 seconds, crumbling in Dan’s arms when we got into the car outside the market. I then told him not to talk about it until we got home, as I knew neither of our reaction times would be great. All I thought over and over again were things like, why the fuck did the doc tell me it was going to work when I was in for the ultrasound? Why didn’t he stay vague like the first time? Why were all those new ‘symptoms’ I’d never felt the first go-round swooping through my body these past few days? And as my veins felt all the attempts to maintain emotionally neutral? They froze then shattered in one fell swoop.
Today I’ve cried exactly three brief times. But in those moments, I recovered much more quickly. My husband and I don’t get Paris this time around. We’ve got real life to deal with, head on, and after four infertility treatments now, my ability to rebound is fierce.
So we came home, my husband prepared the roast pork ravioli we’d bought and mixed in our homemade marinara, we watched a favorite mindless rom-com (13 Going on 30, if you must know), and snuggled on the sofa with the pup for the rest of the afternoon. We had Chinese delivered for dinner and I write this during commercial breaks of Gray’s Anatomy and Scandal. I have picked up my phone exactly zero times and returned exactly zero texts. Work is a bit easier as I can put on my Nordstrom smile as I type and be distracted by it. I’ve always been one of those “distraction through work” types but I know that it has to be in small increments to allow for the grief, to allow myself to walk through rather than sidestep the pain.
It will be okay. We will be okay.
Looking for the coin toss to go my way
So when your ovaries are depleted and you’re 42 like me and do donor egg IVF, you basically change your odds from ones similar to winning the lottery to more like flipping a coin. But for some of us, even after throwing it up into the air over and over, it still doesn’t work. No one can tell us why.
Again the fleeting thought of transferring two instead of one embryo, breathing deeply and remembering, this basically is a way to try and save stress and $2,000 – it doesn’t truly increase your odds. It just condenses the process, because you don’t know what you’re going to get each time. We could have transferred two the first time and we’d have had the same results, right? Ultimately, we have to do this the right way. I’m ready to do it again. I’m stronger after having done this a few times, and it hasn’t put our lives on hold. It’s created some ups and downs, and some spotted ass cheeks, but really, the FET process was the easiest of all of them. Get on the pill, get IM shots, get an ultrasound, get more IM shots, do the transfer, wait for results. Two months.
So yeah, I’m cool. Well, fuck, I feel like shit, but when it comes down to it, I’m cool. I know this game, I’ve played it. I’ve yet to win, but it’s teaching me a lot about who I am, and who we as a couple are.
Yesterday during my reading at the elementary school, when I found out my kiddo had moved away, I instead got to read to a little girl who my husband had read to the year before, and was recently adopted by her two mums after years of foster care. She remembered us and practically leaped into my arms, then grabbed my hand and led me to class where she insisted I have my arm around her while we read stories about ducklings and pigeons. Her laugh and her incredible sense of joy after her quiet and sad energy last year? It warmed me. It still does.
And that’s what keeps me going.
“There is more to life than increasing its speed.”
~Mohandas K. Gandhi