In four of my six pregnancies, I got a positive home pregnancy test (HPT) by 11 days past ovulation (11 dpo). In two of the six, I got a positive HPT by 10 dpo. Five of those times, I lost the baby at some point down the road. Before we began this IVF cycle, I had considered not taking any HPTs before my blood test this Friday (11 days past a 3-day transfer, or 11dp3dt, which is equivalent to 14 dpo, since egg retrieval is considered equivalent to ovulation for calculation purposes).
Today is 8dp3dt or 11 dpo. I debated but broke down and took a HPT this morning. It was negative. I thought I saw a faint line, then I decided it was an evaporation line (cruelest invention ever to those of us suffering with infertility) and decided it was negative. I told the LP that we should just accept that this IVF cycle has failed.
The LP, ever the optimist when it comes to our struggles with recurrent pregnancy loss and infertility, said “It’s too early!”
He is right. It is early. But for my body, it is not “too early”, gauging by past experience. I feel defeated, broken-hearted, angry (with the Universe and myself for getting my hopes up – so many of you know the drill) and sad. Most of all I feel sad and afraid I’m right. This is over and I won’t be trying it again with my own eggs given my low number of mature eggs, the fact that 80% of them didn’t make it past retrieval day and the fact that it’s just too damn expensive for so little return. If we had insurance, I’d reconsider. Ask me again in a month or two, but right now, I’m done with IVF with my own eggs. Lesson (one we’ll be paying for some time to come) learned. Painfully.
I know it isn’t technically “over” yet. And yes, I feel guilty giving up on Francine. But I am doing what I do best – shielding my already damaged and disheveled heart from any more suffering now so I don’t lose my poop every day at work the rest of this week or with our toddler, the Miracle Baby. I want to suck it up and get on with life.
But a part of me that wants this so much – more than anything – does not want to give up. A part of me wants to hang onto that stupid hope. I hate that part of me right now. I want her to go away or take some sedatives and call me next week, when I can say “I told you so.”
Yes, I know. The fear-snake in my belly has resumed the appearance of a Burmese Python. I see her and I want her to eat me alive. Just do it, already. I’m so done with this roller coaster. Let the tears begin!
And this is how it goes when you dance and dream on the edge of hell…