It's the middle of October and about the time that I started IVF #10 last year, the one that got me pregnant. It had been about 5 months since the last BFN IVF, and I had spent the summer enjoying myself as much as possible. It was a good summer! Until I lost 2 very dear people to me in one week in the month of August. One of the losses was one of my biggest supporters. She dreamed of me having a baby she would someday hold. She herself was battling cancer, yet worried out me and my dream. She was a 2nd mom. Losing this incredible woman absolutely broke my heart.
During the month of October as I was cycling/injecting etc., I lost a favorite aunt. This was about a week before my egg retrieval. In the span of 3 months I lost 3 people that I loved dearly.
I knew this would be my last IVF, I was done putting myself through the anguish and torture, always for nothing. And then, who knows what will be the outcome of using these hormones, so many times, for 3 years, besides gaining weight? The fear of cancer always loomed in the background, but I ignored it, because it would have been worth anything, to have my dream, a baby.
The night before my blood test to check my beta, I put away all of the medications, knowing that I would no longer need them. I was done. It was over! I expected another BFN, and then it would be time to move on to my new childless life. Somehow, I had begun to start accepting that this would be the case, and I planned on starting to try and adjust, and accept my future.
I planned on doing as much as I could. I would travel, party, excercise, and enjoy my life to the fullest as someone who didn't have loads of responsibility (parenting) could do. I'd show the world how much fun I could have!
That was the plan. I would survive. I had no choice, this is how my life would be, and it really sucked, but I was going to try and make the best of a horrible situation.
I had the transfer of my 3 little embryos the last week of October.
I have hated Halloween for the past few years now, you know, the years of anguishing infertility treatments. I just can't stand seeing all of the cute little kids all dressed up to collect their candy.
I try to be away, or make sure I'm not home each year.
It's really a shame because I used to enjoy giving out candy at my front door, and seeing all of the cute costumes. Infertility prevents you from enjoying lots of things, and the holidays are definitely a major issue.
Infertility robs you of your self and your soul. Especially if you are one of the women that is "left behind", that never has success. I used to have a support system of a lot of other infertile women, that suffered right along with me. Most of them have since moved on. No one wants to be around the failure. Not when they are actually living their dream. Each one of them has had success. Who needs a buzz kill or a reminder? Their lives have progressed, and mine has not. Little by little they have drifted away from me. Quite convenient, isn't it?
I was always truly happy for each and every one of them when they finally did conceive. I supported them as much as possible, more than most people would, especially in my situation. That support was hardly ever recipricated. It's amazing how absolutely selfish human beings really are.
I cannot tell you how many of them I have helped achieve their dream. Lucky them. I have learned a lot during this journey through hell. I will save this rant for another post.
Back to the story:
The first week of November, on the anniversary of my father's death, I went in for what I thought was the last blood test. I will never forget that day. I was running late to work and stressing.
I gave very direct instructions to my doctor that day. DO NOT CALL ME before 4pm. I will be at work. I cannot receive the dreaded news while I am at work. I don't want to fall apart at work. Notify me after I leave please, after 4pm.
I remember having some hot flashes that day, I figured because this was really the end. It was over and it was time for me to give in to defeat. I didn't take a home pregnancy test this cycle because I didn't want to upset myself any sooner than I had to. Reality day had finally come and I was ready to hear the bad news, for the 10th time, not including all of the IUI negatives.
Then it happened, an email on my blackberry from the Dr. Why was he emailing me during work hours?
I opened it. I read it. I almost passed out, literally. It said, "Brace yourself, ok, you are pregnant!"
I told my co-worker I had to step out. I ran into the staircase and cried hysterically, tears of joy for the first time. I was shaking. I really thought I would faint. I called the doctor. He was cautiously optimistic and told me that I would get another blood test in a couple of days to check the numbers. He told me that at my age, the end of my 44th year, the chances of miscarrage were at about 50 percent. If we could get past the heartbeat stage, hopefully the pregnancy would last.
All I could think about was that I was really pregnant, for the first time in my life. When I had decided to give up. I must have been dreaming. I walked back to my office after speaking with my friend's daughter, (the one who had passed away, my 2nd mom) and told her the news. We both screamed! It had been exactly 10 weeks since she had passed away, and the anniversary of my dad's death. This was big. There was significance I was sure.
I think that day in the first week of November was clearly the best day of my entire life, but it wouldn't last for long.
I went back to the office, hiding my very big secret, it was not to be shared, not yet.
I have to stop now because I'm starting to get really upset.
I promise to continue the story with another post very soon. Maybe even tonight, after a few drinks.