So, I took a HPT yesterday and – GUESS WHAT READERS – t’was negative.
I know, right!? GASP etc!!
(my Grandmother always said sarcasm wasn’t very becoming. I’ll stop now).
While we knew that would be the answer, of course it still hurts. That old familiar searing pain of disappointment. After a big cry and a bigger glass of wine, the residual feeling is ‘why have we gone backwards’? After the mountains of drugs, the nice long rest, the extra acupuncture, the time off work … we produced less embryos, of worse quality, lasting fewer days, with no positive beta at all. All of this is worse than the past year worth of IVF work.
Let me repeat that:
We are actually worse off than when we started.
It’s a REALLY SPECIAL FEELING … (sorry Grandma).
I spoke to Nurse Awesome yesterday and asked to move my blood test to today. No sireee. They just don’t test ‘that early’. Ha!
So, I test tomorrow morning. In the meantime I’ve got to continue with the progesterone and estraderm and those goddamn Clexane needles that are starting to make my belly look like a bruised pear, all until tomorrow afternoon when she’ll call with the negative result.
I can feel my body protesting against the drugs. All it wants to do is start my period and see this giant, expensive waste of a July off.
Clearly the next step is the old WTF Appointment with Dr D. Mr Bun and I have collated a list of questions, and I’m going to ask the receptionist if they’ll let us email it through ahead of time. Maybe that way she may actually have some answers instead of trite ‘It’s a numbers game’-style phrases to toss around.
My dear friend said yesterday, ‘You’re just getting all of your failures over and done with.’ Maybe. But right now it feels that Failure is all we’re made for.