I was all set to write about something else, my transfer day rituals and my 2ww rituals and all the ways that I take such careful care of myself during such a fragile time to try to give myself a boost towards good results. I had a paragraph of this post written when my phone rang.
My test was negative.
I am in shock. I am stunned. I thought for certain I was pregnant. I have been pregnant before; I thought I knew what it felt like. I guess my body is really messed up in so many ways, because it convinced me it was pregnant while simultaneously rejecting the two beautiful embryos that were placed in its care.
I knew that if I had a negative after attempting a donor cycle that it would be ugly. I mean, I had one job, right? My job was to keep these embryos safe and sound and encourage them to stay. I had nothing to do with their creation (which was beyond weird) and all I had to do was encourage them to snuggle in and stay. I know that good statistics for success still come with statistics with failure. I know that I ended up on the wrong side of the coin toss, AGAIN. I know that I did EVERYTHING I could do to provide a good home for these beautiful embryos. I went to fertility yoga. I ate organic EVERYTHING. I ate more fruits and veggies and full-fat dairy and fish oil and prenatals (FOUR YEARS OF PRENATALS!!!), I went for walks that were good for me but not too taxing, I napped when my body said it was tired and needed to rest. I have been coffee and alcohol free since starting the lupron. And it did... NOTHING.
I feel like a failure. I feel like this almost surreal, a day that was supposed to be filled with the joy of a new life beginning and yet is more of the same disappointment we've felt for years, now. We changed so much--we had beautiful 27 year old eggs. There were 21 fertilized eggs in this cycle! We were over the moon (the SUPERmoon, by the way, which I took as a really good omen). We have 6 one-day embryos and 2 blasts in the freezer. That's potentially eight more chances. But I really wanted THIS one. I was convinced I was pregnant. Afraid to commit but feeling really positive that finally, we were done with this fertility crap. AND I thought we were pregnant with twins. I have no idea why I always think it's possible that we are pregnant with multiples. Wishful thinking. I have only ever been pregnant twice with one embryo each, one in my freaking tube and one that didn't stay for long. Why would I think suddenly we would be blessed with twins? Your guess is as good as mine. I am an incurable optimist, despite our crappy odds.
Just the other day I was knitting and watching The Hunger Games. I am not a good enough knitter to watch TV at the same time so it had to be something I'd seen before. All I am stuck with is, "May the odds be ever in your favor." I would be so dead so early in The Hunger Games. Reproductively, I'm no Katniss.
But at the same time, yup, I'm freaking Katniss. I DO NOT GIVE UP. I reject the idea of failure. So we didn't make it this time. So it was around 65% success, and we fell in the 35% failure. Someone has to, otherwise those statistics wouldn't make sense. I believe the frozens are going to make it. I believe that I am going to be messy this weekend, maybe for a week or two, and then I will pull my shit together and get my body and soul ready for my FET. I will make this happen. It is still possible. I predicted that if this DE IVF didn't work, that I would be a mess. I mean, we were told that our donor had a live birth for EVERY ONE OF HER PREVIOUS CYCLES. Woo hoo for breaking that streak. I was afraid of that, and here it is. But you know what? FETs are magical. I got pregnant on our last FET. It was short-lived, but it happened. And with better genetics through our lovely donor, it will happen again and stay this time. I refuse to feel like a big fat failure. (For long, anyway.) I refuse to give in to the dark side (for long, at least). I may have had several cocktails before writing this post, but I'm pretty sure I deserve them. I'm pretty sure that no one would judge me for drowning my sorrows in a little Hendrick's and vodka and lime juice and St. Germain. (tasty, by the way).
So there you have it. Not my best day, but not the worst, either. So it didn't work. It will work in the future. I feel good about that. And even though I felt good about our chances at a pregnancy THIS cycle, I feel even better about our chances with our beautiful frozen babylings. This will happen. And in the meantime, I will have some coffee and some cocktails and cry and gnash my teeth and become a total Wild Thing when necessary. And then I will put my energy into our next best chance. Because that's all I've got. Well, not really--I've got an awesome supportive husband. Who is also grieving, by the way. But together we will get through this setback and together we will come out the other side eventually, intact and ready to support our fledgling family. Because that's what we do. We find the silver lining and hate the freaking cloud. So here we go, mourning the pregnancy that could have been and looking forward to the one that still could be. We are not done. We are sad and beaten down and feeling almost hopeless--but not quite. Because there are chances in the freezer. There are new possibilities still out there to be had. So we will live in the dark for a little while so that we can embrace the light. And bring our FutureBaby home, hopefully sooner than later.