This quote always cracks me up. Do I completely agree with it? No, but it still makes me laugh every single time I hear it. I mean, let’s face it. We can all relate to that feeling, can’t we?
Yesterday, I began to notice that I was spotting. I hoped it was implantation bleeding but this morning, when the spotting became almost a whole sentence, I realized the Rudy, the lone embryo may have become Rudy, the no embryo so I called the nurse at the clinic.
My blood work was supposed to be on Friday, the 25th. When I explained to her what was going on, she advised me to take a home pregnancy test. If it was negative, she told me to come in tomorrow morning. If it was positive, she told me to just wait until Friday. So, I took a home test, and it was negative. I immediately wished that when I sent my husband to buy the test, I told him to pick up some maxi pads. Sh*t.
Now yes, I realize there is the slightest chance that the beta may show something but let’s face it, it’s very unlikely. And as I think about the events of the last few weeks and as I once again consider Homer’s words, I ask myself, “Should I have even bothered trying?” The answer, as annoyingly chipper as it is, is of course, yes.
When someone offers you a free IVF as part of a clinical trial and you’re a person who has both unexplained fertility issues as well as unexplained lack of savings, you take it. I don’t care if it’s someone on a street corner with a sign that says, “INVITRO - 5 Cents”, you smile and say, “Yes please!” I had to try it. I did the trial; I did my best and even though I have nothing to show for it other than some extra progesterone and a grainy picture of the embryo that couldn’t, I can still say I tried. It ain’t much but I’ll take it.
Next month, it’ll be officially two years that we’ve been working towards getting pregnant. We’ve never succeeded. Not once. The only positive pregnancy tests I’ve seen are the ones pregnant friends of mine have posted on Twitter or Facebook. This was our second IVF to fail despite having produced eleven eggs, using ICSY as well as assisted hatching and we even threw in the very best of intentions. But, as it stands now, it’s two years later and we’re still exactly where we started. It’s a hell of an annoying purgatory to be stuck in and what’s worse is it’s a purgatory you even get CHARGED to be stuck in. Really. WTF?
Now, I’m not going to lie: there have been a lot of tears in the last two days and I’m beyond frustrated with how this clinical trial went down. It was supposed to be a blessing: A free IVF that even covered freezing left over embryos. “How lucky are we to have the financial aspect removed PLUS it includes a back up plan!”, I thought. And then, to have produced so many more eggs than our first IVF! Things looked like they were finally falling into place.
But as you know, for reasons no one can explain (which has been a theme of my life lately), we only had one embryo. When even everyone at your fertility clinic is stunned at the results, you know it’s impressively bad and even though I always like impressing people, I prefer to do it in a more positive manner.
All bets were placed on the lone embryo. It only takes one! Everyone is rooting for him! Keep hope alive! But today, like clock work, Aunt Flo showed up and left me with a choice: I can be depressed and wallow in this, or I can choose to move forward. Don’t ask me how exactly but I’m forcing myself to move forward.
I’m upset and I plan to be upset for at least a little while. I’m going to have tequila and ice cream today (feel free to join me) and I’ll probably cry a little more but come tomorrow, I’m joining Weight Watchers again, I’ll make an appointment with the doctor, I’ll schedule a hair cut and I’ll look at my Savings Account and figure out a way to get at least $5000 more dollars without resorting to petty theft.
No one has told us we can’t have children and the last time I checked, I’m not dead so even though I’m down, I don’t yet consider myself out. I still have my sense of humor, I still have a great rack and I still have all of you.
And although I do feel like I’m in abusive relationship with hope, we are at least on speaking terms… so that’s something.
As always, I want to thank all of you for your emails, comments, Tweets, Facebook messages and texts. This has been very difficult but to know there are people out there that care and find your fertility issues as amusing as you do is a huge comfort. It also goes without saying that if any of you happen to have any extra hormones, money or babies lying around, I hope you’ll consider giving them to me.
Now… on to the next disaster…