I was at 175. Needed to be at 350, minimum. That’s a doubling rate of less than 50% and a rate of 80 hours (versus 48).
I had guessed as much. My HPT was darker than it had ever been this am (I have to be honest, HPT or DIE is gonna be my motto). But I knew it wasn’t enough. And I said to DH, “It’s going to be 283.”
Lo and behold…. 265. Which, I think, is fairly close this late in the game.
(I should charge for my hpt/hcg interpretation skills – look under beta on this post – totally called it).
So this pregnancy is definitely 150% done.
Now it’s just more waiting. I’m cycling through the grief stages: angry, sad, denial, bargaining, acceptance, etc. But oddly I don’t feel the low, low, low level intensity of sadness I felt yesterday. It’s not that I don’t care. I think it may be a little bit of numbness but also resignation and experience.
I’ve done this before, so I know how it works. (not a good thing…..)
Also, if I’m honest, this was not a fun pregnancy. From the second day, I was wracked with anxiety. The bleeding was scary. It threw me off kilter. And then it stopped and the spotting lasted 6 days so I think I got worn down with ‘knowing’ things were not okay by that point.
Yesterday I leashed up Gooey and we went for our first walk in weeks. My clinic doesn’t want you to move much at all and I wrestle with that edict, but I always err on the side of extreme caution. Since I was pent up, scared and tired, I had a ton of energy and we went around and around and around and I could feel it all drain away. I realized I had become progressively more anxious over the course of this pregnancy to the point of being hysterical. That’s not a pleasant thing to realize. But it’s true. I was a mess.
On my walk, I thought about the loss. Big chunks of anxiety leaked out of my system and I realized I had been so anxious because I was holding two opposing realities: the hope of a miracle and the dawning sense that all was not right.
I had been trying to be positive here, but in my journals I kept saying: this doesn’t feel right. I felt physically pregnant but not emotionally pregnant. And I definitely did not feel safe.
So now at least I can put that tension aside and accept what my gut has been saying and put my energy there. And in a small way, that is good, because it’s better than holding onto to castle made of clouds.
Today, my friend Bronie came for a visit with her little son Javi. She knows everything and so as we set out she asked me the most extraordinary question. I can’t remember to word it the way she did, but basically it was this: your deadline is january 2015… are you ready to let go of getting pregnant then?
(She worded it much better than that)
Well, anyway, we both chuckled anxiously because it was so right on the mark… it was beautifully uncomfortable. My mind kept churning over it: she didn’t ask ‘are you ready to stop trying’ – which is what I ask myself and everyone asks me and the answer to that is yes – trying sucks – I’d love to stop trying.
She asked if I was ready to never be pregnant and have a child.
The answer to that question… is no.
I am not.
(Crying). There was a day (15dpo to be exact) in this pregnancy when I stopped worrying for a couple of hours and just let.myself.go. I just enjoyed being pregnant and focussed on all those hormones coursing through me and I ignored all the bad and focussed on the good and I was…… really fucking happy.
Not the fake or fleeting happiness of buying a new pair of shoes or getting a promotion or going on a vacation. No. It was the kind of simple, deep seated happiness of feeling like: okay, life is not perfect, it never will be, but this is where I am supposed to be, I’m back on my path and I am about to embark on the most complicated and scary and natural and beautiful thing a human can do – giving life and love to a little being and I am so, so, so ready to give myself to this.
And I was so happy.
Words cannot describe.
God. It was… nice. So nice. So lovely. So right.
And so when Bronie asked me that question, I knew the answer was no. I am NOT ready to give up on pregnancy, on love, on the idea of giving birth to and loving my children. I think I have a lot of love to give and I am dying to give it. My family is gone and I want a family.
So. Yes. This is a terrible situation. It’s another shitty thing on top of a pile of shitty things – the other losses and more recently trying to help my sister kids, losing my love Skittles and this. And I totally realize I need to deal with this and get some help – three losses is definitely therapy time, imho. But it also focussed me into realizing I am not done.
We have two embryos left. I’m on the fence about single FET versus double.
But I do know this…. if the next transfer(s) don’t work out… I’ll do IVF round four.
I’d like to do whatever I decide to do… right away. So no big gaps like I have in the past. It will not be easy financially. But we’ll figure it out. And it won’t be easy physically. Four is my absolute LIMIT. Actually, it’s 1 beyond my limit, so I will be well and truly done after that. (and broke as a joke). But while I am ready to stop trying, I have to be honest that I am not ready to stop hoping for a baby. (Thank you B). I want a baby. I was meant to have a child. I was. I know it. I don’t really like the idea of IVF for a fourth time… but I’m determined.
I’ll be forever grateful to Bronie (for more reasons that that) just as I am forever grateful to all of you. Seeing your notes is just… wow. So amazing. I feel alone a lot because doing this makes me feel a little nutty but you gals get it. You see me as a whole person and you understand this crazy drive we all have. This obsession. You get me. I get you. And when I am at my lowest low, you are there. So thank you. Thank you for being my cheerleaders, my witnesses, my sounding boards, and my support.
And a little shout out to my BFF. I wrote an earlier post about her last week and for some reason it never published (?) but I have talked about her lots over the years on this blog. Years. That says a lot about what a kind, loyal and totally awesome woman she is. Last night she came to visit Dh and I, she was wearing her headache headwear (note to self, MUST BUY) and I thought: holy shit, she has a headache and is probably dead tired and she is willing to listen to my sad ass ramble on! That is a true friend. I love her. So much. Not having family really forces you to get real and figure out how and where to spend your love and I have to say… I lucked out when I found her. I could not think of a better person to send my love to, to think good thought s for, to cherish memories with. Her children are integral to my life. She and her husband are just so cool and so easy to be with that I just let go when I’m around them. I just feel safe and protected. And I wanted to say that publicly and say thank you to her because I know my life has been FILLED with drama these past few years, but I am so thankful she sees past all that to see me, and I hope she knows that I am there for her 2 million %. And I will always be there. And I will NEVER forget that she is my sister from another mister. (Aiiiiight, don’t get it twisted, yo!).