Well, that's that

Today's beta was 40. Bad news for several reasons. First, it means that there is no miraculous surviving twin. If there were, there would have been some increase in the numbers. Next, because the numbers are decreasing so slowly, there is some chance that it might be an ectopic pregnancy. Y'know, because that would be so totally awesome.

So I'm stopping the meds and waiting to bleed. This, at least, I know how to do.

All is not lost. We have one embryo left. D, who I expect is probably mourning the loss in her own way, has been urging me to remain positive.

Oh, I'm positive, all right. Here is what I'm positive about: I am positive that my body kills pregnancies. I'm positive that last weekend's hives were a sign of some bizarre autoimmune reaction. I'm positive that Sammy died 3 years ago because my body was a bad host. I felt that at the time but was too traumatized to push the issue. I'm positive that the doctors never considered these possibilities because blaming my old eggs was the easy answer. Before we risk our last frosty pup on the same old result, I'm going to insist on a few tests to rule out the most likely suspects. It's going to be expensive, but still less so than the alternatives. (I hope.)

This afternoon, I ran into my work friend who became a single mom by choice at 50. She's known all about this transfer and brief pregnancy. She burst into tears when I told her the news. I felt bad, but it was also so lovely to feel truly understood in that moment.

I've been reminded of what I hated most about IF treatments -- the gripping uncertainty, the highs and lows, the feeling of being caught in a spinning vortex that's not of your making and that only has the same recurring exit of agony. Ultimately, we chose adoption to escape that cycle.

I mentioned this to a friend after my second beta this week. She snorted, then laughed. "And we've been in the adoption pool so long that we're starting to explore overseas surrogacy programs! It's all relative."

Do you think the fertiles ever truly recognize how blessed their lives are?

Comments

[Shelli]

It takes a very wise person to understand infertility in the way we have.

I am so sorry for your loss. Having had so many myself, they all hurt. That vision of dashed dreams is enough to drive anyone over the edge.

The sting of failure is less for me these days now that treatment is behind me. Now that I am waiting to complete my family via adoption, I wish so hard that I would have pursued this earlier. Live and learn I guess.

Thinking of you.

[Sue]

Probably not, but I wouldn't wish the hell of infertility on anyone. I'm so sorry for what you're going through right now.

[Almamay]

I'm so sorry. I really hope this isn't an eptopic. You've been through enough.

[Julie Enyeart]

I'm really so sorry. I struggled with fertility for years and adopted my son from Haiti. He's been home a year already! I don't think people who have been blessed with normal pregnancies have any idea how that feeling of not being pregnant feels. I love my son with all my heart and I still miss the fact that I never got to be pregnant and give birth to a baby. I've talked with a few people (therapists, mostly) that after my hysterectomy I had one more certainty in my life besides death now-I would never give birth. And that is a huge realization and loss.
Good luck with the tests and if you try again I'll be praying for success. I'm so glad you have Squeaker! (hope this was ok to share)

[Mrs. X]

I was so very sorry to read this. I know that your story is not over, though. One way or another, it's not over.

The fertiles I know are very aware of how fortunate they are. I don't know if it is because of their close proximity to me and my struggles, but they are all consistently grateful for the ease with which they had babies. That always made the sting a little less.

[suzy]

I'm so sorry about your baby. Been there, done that, hated the f'ing shirt. Fertility procedures charged an enormous amount to have elderly doctors look at body parts I don't usually publicly display, to tell us they didn't know why we weren't still pregnant, and weren't getting pregnant. Sometimes there is no reason or rhyme. See you when we get back?

[Renee]

So sorry to read of your loss. I was so hoping and praying for you. Been reading your blog since you got the call to pick up your precious squeaker. I am fertile, and I DO know how lucky I am which is why I chose to be a surrogate. But you are right, there are people who definately don't realize how lucky they are! Going through the treatments myself each time, I understand how taxing it can be on the mind and body. I am so sorry you are going through this, and hope they can give you some answers this time and you go on to have a happy and healthy pregnancy!