It’s so hard.

I’m trying to go through my days like nothing is really different, and also to keep hope alive just a little bit.  But I don’t know if that is better or if it’s worse…telling myself there’s a .5% chance I’m wrong…when I KNOW in my heart I’m not wrong at all.  Yesterday I was able to talk so matter of factly about the failure to both my mom and a friend–I didn’t well up even once.  Yet this morning, as I thought about having to wake up P tomorrow and Friday for luteal bloodwork, and then again next Monday–it made me cry.  Going through the motions, pretending like this isn’t over–it’s a lot to handle.  I feel so isolated in my emotions right now, not letting anyone see what’s happening.  T and I still haven’t talked about it all, and I foolishly asked him this morning before he left if he could bring it up when he felt comfortable doing so–and we could discuss where we go from here.  Of course, he told me that he assumed since I was so definitive in my “this is it” comments this past weekend, that there was no room for discussion.  And then next thing I know, he’s running out the door, and I’m crying at the dining room table, sorting adoption papers.  I want to yell at him, of COURSE there is room for discussion.  I don’t want this to be over.  But I want him to be happy.  And I want us to be happy.  My mom pointed out that he and I had a very short time in our marriage/relationship to just BE–to be happy, to be carefree, to just enjoy everything.  We moved from one fairly large and encompassing health issue to infertility, and as a couple, have weathered more shit than most couples our age–hell, most couples.  I forget what my husband is like when he’s truly happy.  I forget what I’m like when I’m truly happy.  The year I was pregnant and the first year of P’s life were the happiest I can remember in recent (fiveish?) years.  I just want to help us find our footing again.  And I don’t know how to do that.  I know he only wants the same for me and for us as well, but I don’t know how we get there together right now.


I just can’t believe this didn’t work.  I’m 32.  I respond perfectly well to fertility drugs.  My lining always looks great.  I even had two make it to freeze this past cycle.  I sit around and do close to nothing for two days following the transfer.  But I can’t get pregnant.  I can’t get what other people can get through conventional means, through iui, through one (or two! or three! or four!) IVFs.  If we meet with Dr. D again, what would he say?  That my eggs are bad, to try to donor eggs? That I should try again?  That he has another idea that might work?  For god’s sake, I just want to be WRONG one time.  One time, I want to be proven WRONG for thinking the cycle was over, or doubting a new protocol.  I’ve already changed the dream of having had all my children already by this point in my life.  I’ve already changed the dream of having three or four children.  And now I have to change this one?  I don’t give a shit if I sound wimpy or whiny right now.  I feel so hurt and let down by the path my life has taken (do I need to give a sidenote– that I love my husband, I love my son, we have a lovely home, security, overall health…?).


I just want a hug from my mom right now.  I want to be sixteen years old, lying on my bed crying, my head in her lap as she strokes my hair and softly tells me it will all be okay.  Back when the problems of teenage angst seemed so insurmountable.  If only I could have seen into the future.  If only I could have seen where my life would lead.   Would I have cried more or less back then?


You know what else is hard?  When you realize that everyone else is going on with their lives right now as if our world didn’t just come crashing down.  They’re laying in their beds still, or getting dressed for work, or kissing their children, rubbing their pregnant bellies, hugging their husband.  They’re singing along to a song on the radio in their cars, or making breakfast or updating their facebook status (right now, facebook is not my friend.  just saying).  Perhaps the few who know are even hugging each other in gratitude that their life isn’t our life.  It is so hard to comprehend the normalcy of others’ lives, when my own feels upside-down right now.  And while I comprehend that this is not the worst thing to ever happen to a human being, right now, I only seem to selfishly care about myself.


Oh.  And next week marks the one year anniversary since we lost our twin pregnancy last year.  another year.  gone.  This is why I need to get off this hurt wagon of self pity and self-loathing.  I need to stop measuring my life in terms of failed cycles, failed pregnancies, an empty womb.  I need to find a way to move on.  But I just think I need to grieve for a while still.

4 Comments, Comment or Ping

  1. Hi from LFCA… I just want to say i know the feelings of frustration and nobody can walk in your shoes. But I do hope you will keep some positiveness I felt horrible and crampy for the first 2 weeks after our 3dt… I then had spotting for 10 days. But here I am 6w5d and I have my first US on friday and if I don’t stay positive the worries take over and that is just not fun! I will hope for a positive beta for you and your 3 embies!

    March 9th, 2010

  2. BIG hugs to you! Your post sounds so much like the posts of despair I wrote almost a year ago when my IVF failed. It’s so fucking hard to go through so much and then NOT.GET.PREGNANT. How can that be when others have it happen so easily?

    I totally get what you mean about “not remembering happiness” b/c you’ve been focused on IF for SO long. And the sense of wonder that so many people are just living their lives while yours has been put on hold. God, I could have written those paragraphs.

    I wish I could fix it all, but I can’t. All I can offer is a glimpse of the other side. One year out from not being pregnant, I’m still not pg. I took several months “off” (if “just” charting and TI counts as “off”), and it was such a relief to get off the crazy roller coaster of IF. I started working out (which I was afraid to do during treatments), started digging myself out of depression, etc. 8 months later, I’m about to have surgery and am 3 months out from a FET, and it’s just now feeling like a possibility. Just now feeling like I have the emotional reserves rebuilt to try again.

    Anyway, just wanted to give you some light at the end of the tunnel that someday you’ll start to feel normal again. Hang in there. I’m not writing you off until the IVF nurse sings. Cramps have been my 1st symptom of PG all 3 times.

    March 9th, 2010

  3. I’m so sorry for what you have been through. Grieving is so mysterious. I’m one of those people who grieves for an awfully long time. I know what you mean about not trying again for a long while. Just wanted to let you know you are not alone in your struggles. Big hugs.

    March 14th, 2010

  4. You know I so feel you, so. I can’t find your email, send it to me again k. xoxoxoxoxo

    March 15th, 2010

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