There’s a saying in my native New Hampshire: “You can’t get there from here.”
That’s how I feel tonight. How do I get back to being the happy carefree girl I once was?
When I started writing this blog I was determined to be upbeat and positive about the trials and tribulations of my IVF life. It was easy to be positive back then; after all, I had nothing to loose in all this. I had been ready to move on to adoption immediately after Mr. T’s diagnosis, but Mr. T wanted to give IVF a try. Being the good sport that I am, I went along with it.
Our motto was “no regrets.” We’d try this IVF thing, and if it didn’t work, we’d take the money back from our IVF Refund Program and adopt. We’d create our family one way or another.
So I was ready for IVF 1.0 to fail. I even told our doctor at transfer not to worry if it didn’t work out; that IVF hadn’t been so bad and I knew we’d be parents one way or another. What I was not prepared for was the pure joy of our first pregnancy test, believing for the first time that we might have babies with Mr. T’s smile and my curls. The excitement of telling a few friends and family, thinking of names and how our life would change. We were almost to the end of those dreaded Progesterone in Oil shots when we discovered at our second ultrasound that our baby’s heart had stopped.
It was devastating, but I bounced back quickly. We tried again a few months later with two more of our perfect frozen embryo blasts, and again, joy was followed by heartbreak at our first ultrasound.
I was convinced that these losses must have been because of the marathon I ran a few weeks before starting IVF 1.0. This time, the third time, would be different. This would be a fresh start.
I’ve tried to be brave and hopeful. I really believed it would be different this time. But walking home from work yesterday, I finally admitted that all my pregnancy symptoms were gone. And having been through this before, I know the feeling too well. I don’t have any bleeding or cramping (the PIO always does its job well to prevent that), but the bloating, the tender breasts, the slightly seasick feeling and hourly pee trips, and that mysterious and beautiful feeling that I wasn’t alone in my own body- all gone.
I barely made it in the door before collapsing into a heap of tears. Poor Mr. T thought I was in physical pain, his face full of worry and fear for me. He held me and rocked me and did his best to talk me out of my conviction that we lost yet another baby.
“I’m worried about you, Jess.”
“I’m worried about me too.”
Mr. T, dear husband that he is, still holds out hope for us. As we went to bed, tears still streaming down my face, he stroked my tummy, telling our baby to hang in there. I let him have his hope. I wish I could hold out my own hope for another week, to allow myself to enjoy this last week of being pregnant, the last chance I may ever have to be pregnant.
It sounds sad, but I just feel numb and calm now. Dreading May 11th when the doctors confirm what I already know.
I just want to go back to being that carefree happy girl who had nothing to loose. How do I get back there from here?
Sorry I don’t have a happy ending here for you tonight. Thanks to you all for your support.
Jess, please hang in there and give this baby a chance. Pregnancy symptoms come and go with perfectly normal pregnancies too, not just with miscarriages. I know you’re scared and trying to proect yourself from further pain, but for now you are still pregnant, so don’t give up hope yet and hopefully your ultrasound will give you wonderful news. Big hugs.
I’m sorry to read of your instincts… I pray it’s just natural symptom fluctuation… Thinking of you!
You don’t always have to be happy and positive here. Dealing with infertility and loss is a roller coaster. In order to write about the experience you will be writing about the ups and the downs. I find that my own blog is the best and cheapest form of therapy out there. Many of us have walked in your shoes and we understand what it is like. So please don’t feel like you have to put on a happy face just for us.
Thinking of you and wishing for the best.
I hate that you’re feeling so certain that that you’ve lost this little; it must be devastating. There’s nothing I can say to reassure; I just hope it isn’t so and that your symptoms are waxing and waning as I hear happens. Sigh. Holding you tight.
I am so sorry and I know that sheer terror when everything feels “normal” when you know it’s not supposed to.
I am lifting you in love and light. I hope that May 11th hurries up!
I’m hoping beyond hope that you are wrong and your baby is in there, little heart fluttering away, growing big and strong so you can meet him or her in about 35 weeks or so. xoxo
Tears for you Jess and hoping it really is all ok this time. xxx
I know that fear – I think it’s there no matter what your symptoms are if you’d had previous losses.
Sending you good thoughts and wishes that this one is different. *hugs*
I agree with “Finding My New Normal” you don’t need to be happy, positive, and carefree all the time. We are all here for you through the good and the bad, the excited and the anxious.
I’m sending you all my love right now and hoping so hard that this is just a normal fluctuation of pregnancy.
Take care of yourself. ❤
I just read your most, my heart breaks for you and I mean that sincerely. I am not often moved to tears as I tend to live in my own microcosm, but I have to tell you that I feel so very bad for you and I hope that you have the best experience and news ever.
((((hugs)))))
Oh Jess, I’m just in tears for you. You HAVE been brave and hopeful from an outsider’s perspective. I really, really hope your symptoms come back. I know that “normal” feeling that creeps in before a loss (and the stress of trying to decide whether your symptoms are gone-gone or just temporarily-gone). Huge hugs and prayers for you.
From the bottom of my heart I hope that you are wrong, I hope your baby is safe and this is your time. Sending love and strength to you, moon xx
I really hope you are wrong this time Jess. Im sending my thoughts and love to you and hope for great news at your scan. Big Hugs xox
Just wanted to send u some big hugs!! Pp said symptoms can come and go and they are so right. I am holding onto hope that your little one(s) are safe, happy and growing. I am here for u whenever my friend:) xxxx
Thanks so much for your support, and hoping for me even though I’ve lost my hope. You all are the best- I’ll get through this with your help. xxxx
Oh girlie, I hope you are wrong. I hope so much, that your instincts are off on this one.
Thinking of you and sending much love xxx
Jess – I hope that things are alright and this is a successful cycle for you. Hang in there.
Hugs
Oh Jess,
This brought me to tears. My heart is aching for you right now. I’m praying that your instincts aren’t correct, I’m hoping things work out. Please be easy on yourself and know that you are in my thoughts. I will be holding on to hope for you for the next few days. I wish I could say something that could help, but sending my love xxx