When we first started TTC and found out the first time we weren’t pregnant, it definitely stung. You spend your whole life trying NOT to get pregnant that you assume “pulling to goalie” (or whatever funny metaphor you want to insert here to represent birth control) will be all it takes. So that first month it doesn’t work, it’s kind of a shock. Your brain tells you, though, that it’s ok. The average couple takes 6 months of well-timed intercourse to get pregnant.
When the 6th BFN rolls around, you start to worry. It’s been 6 months. 6 months of PERFECTLY timed intercourse. WTF?
Then when you find out you have something specifically wrong (for me that was 8 or 9 months in), it can be a little bit of a relief. You’re not just being anal. Something is preventing this from happening. Something you can treat! Wahoo! Let’s treat it and everything will be ok!
So I did. I started taking progesterone in November for a short luteal phase (time between ovulation and AF. You need at least 10 days of high progesterone–what keeps you from having AF– to give an embryo time to implant properly.) The progesterone worked!! My period would stay away for as long as I was on it! My progesterone levels (checked by blood draw @ 7DPO) were above where they were supposed to be for the first time! Now this changed the way I dealt with the last half of my cycle. I used to test @ 10DPO (when I got a BFP with both of my pregnancies), if I wasn’t spotting by then. My period would come the next day. Every month I was crushed because I was SURE this fixed the problem. With the progesterone, my period would stay away until I stopped taking it. This meant I had to keep testing until I was sure it was negative and then stop the progesterone. Usually I’d take it until 16PO and then stop taking it and get AF the next morning.
In February I had laprascopic surgery to clean out the endometrial adhesions. I thought for SURE that would fix the problem. My left ovary was back next to my left tube instead of being adhered to the back of the uterus (no wonder that fucker hurt so much every month). My right tube was unkinked.
Now I could have just resisted testing (known as POAS-pee on a stick) until 16DPO, but every month I was SURE it had worked. I was pregnant! I felt SOOOO pregnant. The progesterone mimics pregnancy symptoms, it turns out, including 2 weeks of complete and total 1st trimester-like exhaustion. Every month, of course I was wrong. I was reminded of how wrong every month as I sat on the toilet for 10 minutes hoping a line would come up. I’d hold the test up to the light, hoping it was just too faint to see. I’ve probably spent at least $200 on pregnancy tests in the last year and a half.
Each of those months, I’d imagine what it would be like to have a baby in November, December, May, June, whatever. How would it affect my maternity leave? What would it be like to be pregnant in those months? Would I need new maternity clothes? New newborn clothes if the baby was born at a different time of year than Owen? In short, every month, that baby existed for me.
Every morning when I’d wake up, the first thing I’d do is take my BBT (basal body temperature-plotted on a chart they indicate ovulation). The first thing every morning, I’d analyze that temperature to see what it meant in terms of either impending ovulation, confirming ovulation, or possibly some clues about whether I was pregnant. (TMI alert) Every time I went to the bathroom, I obsessively checked the toilet paper for clues about the state of my cervical mucus (indicates whether you’re fertile), or to see if I was spotting. In short, all day, every day, I was analyzing my body.
Every month that baby I was so sure existed, the baby I had planned for and imagined giving birth to, basically died. That’s what it feels like. All of the dreams you’ve had, moments you’ve imagined, gone. The miscarriage I had my second month of trying to get pregnant with Owen hurt less than most of the negative pregnancy tests I’ve had for the last year and the half because I spent less time imagining the pregnancy than I did these babies. I was only pregnant for 4 days. I knew almost immediately that something was wrong so didn’t get too invested in it. When you treat fertility problems, though, you’re just sure it worked. HOW COULD IT NOT? YOU FIXED THE PROBLEM!
So you start to get numb. You stop hoping that things will work. Sure, you bump up the odds by adding clomid, inseminations (IUIs), different kinds of progesterone (I’ve used progesterone compounds made by Kaiser, prometrium suppositories, and now PIO shots). Each one costs a little more and does a little more of a number on your body. If you don’t think it will work, though, it hurts less when it doesn’t work. You stop figuring out the estimated due date of that potential baby every month, but it doesn’t stop you from secretly doing the math in your head.
So those babies die in your head too. Except each month it costs a little more money.
This time, though? IVF was our last best effort. The best chances of success! 76% chance of pregnancy at our clinic! The RE thought we would have a GREAT chance of getting pregnant. At least as high as the clinic stats. Then everything went great. Our embies were GREAT. That made our chances even better. So high that we only put back one embryo because we had such a high chance of BOTH embryos implanting if we put back two.
This picture?
While I feel no particular emotional connection to the embryos as a whole, this was the first picture of my child. This was GOING to be our baby. 76+% chance.
But now it’s just a picture of an embryo that died. A child that won’t be. A pregnancy that didn’t happen. A baby that won’t be born around May 6, 2010 and share a May birthday with half the family. Our last best ditch effort FAILED. That baby I’ve imagined every month may never be delivered into my arms. This doesn’t even begin to cover how bad it feels.
Seeking a Sibling 