So much has happened since the last time I posted, I’m not even really sure where to start. Logic, and Maria in “The Sound of Music,” might dictate that I start at the very beginning, but I’m a rebel so let’s start at the end.
Obviously, IVF is a complicated process that begins with me starting birth control. I know what you’re thinking…it’s the same thing we are all thinking:
“The first step in getting pregnant is starting on birth control?”
Yes, you are correct.
Anyway, I got really great at sticking needles in my stomach, my husband got moderately good at sticking needles in my ass (and he took great pleasure from telling people later that he was sticking me in the butt every night), and we both became really accustomed to me crying…like, a lot.
At the end of the process, we were left with only two healthy embryos, zero chances for a future frozen embryo transfer, and a non-viable pregnancy.
I knew that I was pregnant for 6 days, before I had a devastating miscarriage on the very first day of the year.
Screw you, 2018.
Though technically my miscarriage was classified as a chemical pregnancy, both the fact that the lines on my pregnancy tests got darker everyday, and the fact that my very painful and bloody miscarriage lasted a full week, I don’t really think of it as a biochemical pregnancy.
In my head, this was my child. I saw the next twenty years of his life laid out before me the instant I knew I pregnant, and when that got yanked away from me, I was devastated.
Oh, so you noticed I said “he” just then. We did not know the sex of our embryos. In fact, we didn’t do the PGS testing, so we had no information on the embryos other than their rating. During the six days that we knew we were pregnant, I continually referred to the embryo as “he.” I don’t know why, and I wasn’t doing it consciously. A lot of people say that they knew the sex months before it was confirmed, and I even think I knew from pretty much the beginning, that this pregnancy wasn’t going to stick, so maybe there is something to this whole women’s intuition thing?
It’s been a long and painful 21 days since our miscarriage, but in so many ways they were the fastest days of my life after the agony of our two week wait (or more precisely, eight day wait).
Though we have had good days and bad days because, as I have to keep reminding myself, grief is not linear, we have made it through our heartbreak together. This experience reminded me of just how amazing my husband is, and how lucky I am to have him. It has also reminded me how strong I am, and just how much pain I am able to endure.
In a weird way, that’s oddly comforting.
Thanks to you, dear readers, for sticking through this with me. I know I’m rubbish with updates, and was mute during our first IVF; but you kept coming back to me, and that means a lot.
I don’t know what is next, but I know that as long as I have my husband and my amazing support system by my side, I’m going to be okay.
Besides, it’s probably time for us to run off on another adventure together, anyway.