It’s Official (and boy does it suck)

Our solo embryo, Francine, did not make it.  I am not pregnant.  Our new year’s IVF failed.  It only makes me sadder knowing that Francine implanted (I tested out my trigger shot last weekend, meaning I got negative home pregnancy tests (HPTs) and then had about 3 very faint positive tests around Tuesday/Wednesday).  Francine had implanted and some hCG was produced, but that was that.  By Thursday all tests were negative and Friday’s beta confirmed that we were done.

The LP is furious with the Universe.  And the fertility clinic because they couldn’t even propose a follow-up conference with our RE until late next month.  As the LP put it, “They’ve got the money, right? What difference is it to them now?”  It is tough to disagree with that logic.

I’ve shed a lot of tears waiting for the phone call I knew was coming.  I expect more will fall and I won’t stop them.  I plan to drink heaps of red wine this weekend and cuddle our Miracle Baby and the LP.  And have a super freakin’ hot bath.  And exercise until everything hurts (both of which have been no-no’s since we started IVF).  Pretty crappy consolation prizes.

The LP and I embarked on the journey of trying to conceive in 2009, when I had lots of testing done and we got counseling and so on.  We got married in early 2010 and began trying immediately after.  I got pregnant for the first time in late 2010 (lost that in 2011, along with pregnancy #2).  Miracle Baby was pregnancy #3.  Around this time last year I was ready to try again.  We tried actively during three cycles last year and we got pregnant each time.  Each time I miscarried, either before or after seeing baby’s heartbeat on ultrasound.  We decided to do IVF in the hope that we might get lucky and maybe avoid more miscarriages while hoping to catch that elusive healthy egg.

So much for that idea.

I could not avoid pointing out the irony to the LP – the only time in our four cycles of trying to get pregnant in the last year that we didn’t get and stay pregnant for a while.  Of course, it’s also the only time we didn’t have a miscarriage.  Thanks for that, IVF.  Up yours, IVF.  You suck.

(In case you’re wondering “why only four cycles?”, the rest of the year was eaten up by pregnancies, miscarriages, waiting to heal, waiting for surgery, waiting to recover from surgery and for hCG levels to drop, waiting for IVF, IVF and the two-week wait that followed).

Last year I connected with the spirit of a baby that I believe is meant to be our child (I’ve written about this in earlier posts).  I struggle to reconcile my heartfelt belief that it is part of my destiny to raise a child that embodies this spirit with my befuddlement at how – or at what cost (and I’m not even talking money here) – that dream could possibly become a reality.  I want to be hopeful, but today is not the day.  Today is a day for a big glass of a fat, meaty red and a pity/rage-against-the-Universe party.

So much for detachment to outcome.

I want (and wanted if this IVF didn’t work, even before we tried it) to move on to donor eggs.  The LP does not want this.  I thought our IVF experience if unsuccessful might change his mind or soften his resistance.  It has not.

So much for that idea, too.

My EFT teacher/coach has this completely admirable way of responding to sudden changes of plans.  She says she cannot wait to find out what it is that she is meant to be doing instead of what was originally planned (because she accepts the change as how things were meant to be and something interesting waiting just around the corner to take the place of the original plans).   I wish I could see this IVF failure in such a positive light.

But Mary Poppins I am not (and I’m not saying my EFT coach is not real or legit – I’m sure she has crap days in which it’s not so easy to be positive too).  Today is not the day.  Today just plain sucked.  And I bet there will be a few more days like today before I can pull my head out of the darkness and see this or the coming non-IVF cycles as an opportunity.

I have acupuncture on Monday and I am looking forward to that.  I might also book another appointment with the hypnotherapist who tried to help me have hope during our last pregnancy, when I was so afraid baby was not alive (before I was sadly proven correct).  But all of that is for next week, when the pity/rage party is over.

In the meantime, who’s up for a glass?


26 thoughts on “It’s Official (and boy does it suck)

  1. Wow…what’s there to say that you haven’t said yourself already….I’m so sorry for your plentiful of sorrows…sure as hell have that glass of wine or two and have one for me! I had one mc so far and know how long it can take for that stupid HCG to go down and to heal physically. I have no advice for you since I wouldn’t know what I would do if I were in your situation. You did everything so far that you can do. Did you ever get a reason why your babies didn’t stick?

    • Yes. The erudite explanation is that my eggs are too old (I’m >40). And for the losses that haven’t been tested they assumed aneuploidy. We are still waiting for test results on baby from last miscarriage – they don’t rush those results where we are. I’ve got slightly high FSH (8.3) and DH had low motility and morphology on 2011 SA but every other test for both is normal.

      • Thanks for the detailed explanation. I’m going to be 39 in a few months and DH has low motility. I think my age was a factor in my miscarriage. It’s hard to wish for a BFP when you know that the next miscarriage could be right around the corner. If it doesn’t happen for us this year I don’t know what we’ll be doing. But at least we will have tried.

        • I have loads of hope for you yet. I started trying with LP when I was your age. Never got a BFP until I was 40 and that and the next pregnancy were unsuccessful. But Miracle Baby was our third-time-lucky. I’m hoping you are dur for your lucky charm.

  2. Fuck this. I’m so sorry. It’s so painful! Too much pain. Wine—yes. I drank plenty of that after my last loss. You don’t have to be enlightented right now, as you well know—building your whole self back up can (and will, because you are you) happen later. I am so glad you already have a child. I’m sure that will make a tremendous difference in healing time. XO

    • That’s an interesting perspective. My first acupuncturist went through my initial infertility and my first and second losses. I never felt anything but supported by her. But now that she is a mother herself she told me that her heart hurts that much more for my losses.

      And I have to agree, having a child helps me feel fortunate and enormous gratitude. But it also makes me experience that much more intimately what we are losing every time we get a positive pregnancy test (however short lived that may be) or see a heartbeat that later vanishes – every miscarriage (or chemical in this case) is underscored by the vivid awareness of what I am missing. And I think that while healing from the loss may move “faster” initially, the echoing sadness and fear (this will NEVER work) have a resonance and timber I did not hear or appreciate before we had our Miracle Baby.

      Nothing about IF and RPL is simple, expeditious, easy. It all fucking stinks. For all of us.

      • Aack. I’m so sorry. I think I said that very clumsily and insensitively—I was responding to your line about cuddling your Miracle Baby this weekend. Absolutely, each of our situations is different and uniquely painful. I hope I didn’t sound minimizing or cause you stress in any way, that was the last thing I wanted to do. ): I hope this weekend some bits of healing have found you. xoxo

        • Thank you for your sensitivity and for following up. I know your intentions are good and took your comments as such. Guess I’m just raw and tired of being told I “should be happy with one” or “at least I have one” and am so lucky.

          I know I am fortunate. I am so grateful for this. But I am also still suffering with infertility like so many of us – all the while with the knowledge that there is a spirit of a child out there waiting to be with us. And it getting harder with each loss (I guess we are at 6 now?) to believe that will ever be our reality.

          My heart is just breaking. Again. Fucking fuck. I know you get it. Thank you.

      • In response to your last reply to me below: I see that I definitely broke my own rule: Never assume (in this case, don’t assume that just because she said she would cuddling her child this weekend that that will speed up her recovery time…which actually doesn’t even make sense now that I type it out). I learned that when someone’s comment on my blog is ruffling, that person might just be having an unwise comment moment, but I shouldn’t be learning that lesson at your expense, at a time like this. I’m glad you assumed my intentions were good! I realize that out of all the IF experiences, I probably have the least understanding of the nuances of secondary IF and appreciate your taking the time to explain and really do ache for you. I think stupid comments (in person, on blogs) can be one of the most isolating things about this experience, which is why I just wanted to be sure you knew how wrong I was, and how deserving you are of *unconditional* support. XO!

        • Crazy WordPress ate the public version of my response to your last comment but I’m glad you got it (thanks for the private note).

          For the rest of the world: you didn’t say anything stupid and were not wrong. We act, speak, experience the world from where we are. And we are friends on this painful and heart-shattering journey – enough said.

          Peace to you. And a universe of good wishes for this cycle that’s just begun. I have high hopes for your wee yellow and blue.

  3. Thinking of you my IVF sister. I hate how IVF can build us up and then kick us in the teeth and then to add insult to injury, they chalk it up to old eggs. I friggen hate that answer, especially after hearing everything looks great and good luck after transfer. I would really like to tell them FU, stop giving me the peep talk I don’t need or want it as I’ve been through this enough time to know my odds. Ok, rant over! I pray you find peace in time but for now, drink up and enjoy everything that you have not been able to do over the last few weeks. That includes some time with LP. Hugs my friend.

    • You said it – so infuriating! Thank you for the hugs and commiserating rant, both are much appreciated.

      It was good to enjoy real life this weekend though the tears perforated the family time in moments. And I did swear off wine today after perhaps a bit too much last night!

  4. Hi there… new to your blog. I have only recently discovered the idea of a spirit baby but I”m very interested. I’m so sorry your IVF didn’t work. “Chemical” pregnancies are a terrible emotional roller coaster. I hope that you can find some peace and healing.

    • Thank you for the kind wishes, for stopping by and for taking time to comment.

      I really dislike the term “chemical pregnancy”. As much as I dislike the term “recurrent spontaneous abortions”, another of my diagnoses. But what I dislike most is each of us losing babies we so deeply and desperately want to hold.

      I hope you get lucky this next time around. I’m sorry for your terrible losses.

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