No. 171 - When Is It REALLY Over?

I had every expectation that this IVF would work. All the "signs and symptoms" of success were layed out before us from the moment we decided to go for it. If the first IVF led to, at the minimum, a chemical pregnancy, then the second IVF should get us through a viable pregnancy. For some stupid reason I looked at IVF #1 as a practice run, and anything subsequent should have a better result.

My cycle before IVF #2 was textbook and I felt my body had come back to me from the first IVF debacle.

We evenly spaced the repronex: 1/2 in the a.m.; 1/2 in the p.m.

Even though the number of eggs retrieved were marginal, I felt it was because my body was contributing to the quality, not the quantity. As you said, as I even said, it only takes one.

The transfer was smooth. The two 8-celled embryos looked "really good."

I had the acupuncture appointments, including the pre- and post-transfer treatments.

I had implantation cramps a day earlier than I did on my first IVF.

This was our last A.R.T. attempt, and everyone knows that when someone moves to their Last, they always get pregnant, right? Ha.

So when Saturday morning rolled around, even at only 7dp3dt, I had some expectation of what I would see on the EPT. When it wasn't there, I knew it would be there Sunday morning, and I would feel guilty showing up to the Confab in a newly pregnant status. I would be scared, but overjoyed.

But Sunday a.m. the test was negative...again. I cried the whole time I was in the shower at the realization that something bad was happening - or actually something good did not happen.

I managed to keep cool about the negative in front of the group and we all in some silent, wordless agreement, steered away from the topic.

When I got back to my hotel that evening, I tried to wash the worry from my brain by watching more TV in one sitting than I have seen in weeks, but by the time I knew I needed to get ready for bed, which included doing my PIO shot, my nerves were frayed and it all felt so fruitless. I almost did not do the shot, but did...just.in.case. I found it strangely ironic that there was only one prenatal vitamin left, and somehow I knew I would never have to refill it.

I called Mr. DD and told him how much I really missed him right then. My head was encased in doom and gloom and by the time I fell asleep, it ached from crying.

Monday morning around 5:00, I woke and shuffled into the bathroom thinking that if I finally get a 2nd line, it would not be a good indicator of a viable pregnancy as my initial beta had been so low on the first IVF and I had tested positive 12 hours earlier. Again, the test was negative. I called Alexa and left a message that I was going to go home as she had graciously extended her hospitality if I had needed it.

As I was getting ready to check out of my hotel, for some sick reason I decided to pull out the EPT from the trash and I was met with the evap line and I stupidly got a little bit hopeful again. On my way home, I stopped at a Target to pick up another 2-pack and became so impatient that at a gas station just outside of Small Town, I took one test in with me to the bathroom.

Negative.

When I got home, I was thwarted from posting when blogger ended up being down for maintenance and it was killing me to have what seemed like this stupid secret that I needed to get off my chest so I could begin to heal.

For those of you who remember my poll about SIF and how I could relate to any one of those answers? Well, right now there's only one answer: Infertility is Infertility and it fucking hurts no matter what and is capable of sucking your life and your soul into a vacuum.

The reproductive door has been shut to us for the last time. I will give the unused drugs I had left over to Suzanne, who I was supposed to meet today for lunch, which I postponed. I am in no shape to talk to anyone right now. Every recent comment and email has made me cry anew.

I will be closing some doors of my own over the next few weeks. Once we move, I will no longer have to look at X's room in it's baby decor. I am contributing some of X's best baby clothes to a fellow blogger. And finally, I will do what I have been putting off for almost 18 months: I will call my OB and find out the sex of Baby May and finally give my baby a real name, which will be one of the names we had been holding in our hearts since we tried getting pregnant again: "Mr. DD, IV" or "Vivienne Elise". I guess it doesn't matter anymore if someone "steals" the names for themselves.