Hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving. We kicked ours off on Wed. with my last visit-ever trip to the infertility doc and transferred 2 blasts, both of which looked great (according to the doc) and had thawed fine. My doc, who knows this is the end of my line, said, “Seven years” and shook my hand for an inordinately long time. She also said, “Stay in touch,” which I took to mean that she had very little hope it would work, as do I. That’s the thing. We knew it was a slim chance, but it was, as DH said, time for our blasts to “come home.”
I spent the rest of Wed lying in bed with the dogs, whose unrivaled cuddling skills should be part of any IVF protocol. The best part of the whole day was the Valium they gave me, which seemed to last for hours and hours.
On Thursday, I thought I was feeling weird and stiff, but it was probably because I spent too much time on my feet cooking for someone fresh off an FET.
Friday – yesterday – was the worst. I was irritable and suffering from the worst kind of existential despair. I felt profoundly alienated from DH, who I normally think is just the bee’s knees, and thought our life was just a sad joke. It felt like we were sitting around being lonely together. We finally dragged ourselves out to go for a hike, buy holiday cards, go out to the movies and then to eat, and this at least kept me distracted. During the movie, I thought my breasts were sore but probably not really and if they were it’s probably PMS (which would also explain the irritability).
Why does it cause me shock and dismay that I am feeling so awful? Isn’t it to be expected that someone going through their last battle with the IF demon would feel defeated and hopeless? And yet, I feel so taken aback at my dark mood. Everything feels pointless and sad and hard. Next week I’ll go back to work. I’ll probably get my period on Wed if not sooner (since they made me ovulate on day 14 and I suspect my screwed-up luteal phase is probably 10-11 days). And I’ll put my brave face back on. And try to expand and grow past this rut.
I wrote an old friend to get her snail-mail address for a holiday card, and she wrote back with her name, her husband’s, and their two young daughters’ names and their address. She signed off with, “Happy Thanksgiving weekend, best weekend of the year!” I thought of them all visiting a pumpkin patch, going to see grandma, cuddling on the sofa, etc. and thought, “Why have I been selected for this particular kind of loneliness, will someone please tell me?”
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UPDATE — Nov. 30 — I’m sorry to report the following news from Mother_Of_None: “It was a BFN. Technically a chemical pregnancy but a very borderline one (beta at 6). Thanks again for all the support.”
From PJ: I’m so terribly sorry. Words of condolence seem hollow given the range of emotions you must be feeling, but I hope you know that you’re in our thoughts. We’re there for you.