the long version

Next month I will have been at my job for three years.  I actually started in February of 2008 as a part-time transitional person before the person I was replacing left, but I officially got the job and came on full time in March 2008.

Getting this job was our first step to TTC.  We counted one year forwards from my start date since that’s when I would become eligible for FMLA.  March 2009.  We counted seven months back from that, thinking that if I were to get pregnant right away I might not be able to work all the way to my due date.  August 2008.

We got rid of the contraception.  We knew it might take a while and weren’t really disappointed when September, October, November, and December all rolled by.

In January 2009 we moved into our current apartment.  It has a second bedroom.

That same month I took my first pregnancy test in years.*  I was not even late but I also wasn’t spotting, so I had hope.  I’ll never forget the joy in my husband’s face when I told him I needed a test.  I sat in the bathroom and waited for that line to appear.  Two minutes.  Three minutes.  Ten minutes.  Half an hour.

In March 2009 it happened again.  I was two days late.  I tested.  I failed.  We went to see the in-laws for Passover, where I holed up in the guest room and bawled.  I was starting to think there was something wrong.  That’s the last time I took a pregnancy test.**

Since March 2009 I have only been tempted to test once, and my period started before I even had a chance.  My cycles are like freaking clockwork.

I read so many of your stories, and I wonder, what the hell is wrong with me?  I mean, I’m grateful not to have experienced pregnancy loss, but in two and a half years I have never had even a chemical pregnancy.

I feel like such a fool every time I look into that second bedroom, which of course is full of computer stuff and old junk.

I keep circling around the idea of IVF, and I think I am coming around to it.  My husband wants to do it.  I just can’t get over the risk.  One chance, everything on the table, and not one shred of real evidence that it could work.  I have absolutely no data to support even the idea that I could become pregnant.  Not a miscarriage, not a chemical, not (thank god) an ectopic.  Not once.  Not ever.

Is this because of the MFI?  Or is there something really, really wrong with me?  And how would I know?***

I can’t keep looking into that empty bedroom for the rest of my life.

*There were some moments of panic in my callow youth before I knew I was broken.

**Unless you count the beta they did before my surgery.  It is to laugh.

***And the question I really want to ask:  What’s it like?  How does it feel?  Tell me all about it.  The moment when you see that line, or get the call with your beta results.  Not what happens after.  Just that moment.  What’s it like?

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5 responses to “the long version

  1. For me, it was scary. I often wonder if I *knew* something was wrong. Next time, it will be different. Before I was briefly pregnant I had similar thoughts, no evap, no chemical, nothing. And my cycles were like clockwork. It is such a terrible mind-fuck, you can never escape it. I am so sorry. I wish that we didn’t have to go through this shit experience. If you ever decide to go for IVF, I will be there. And if you don’t, I am her still. I know you can do it and honestly, anticipation is worse than the actual process.
    Hope you day is a good one.

  2. I’ve only had one-ever BFP, and it was surreal and not-quite-right. . . . I’d already had what I thought was my period a week before and started spotting at the beginning of a treatment cycle; I only took a test because my RE told me to. My husband was really excited, but I always felt reserved because the situation was so odd. . . . and it turned out my instincts were correct; my beta later that day was much, much lower than it should’ve been and continued to fall when rechecked.

    Sorry, I just realized maybe a happy BFP story was what you were looking for. Oops.

    I completely hear you on the risk element of doing IVF. I don’t like it either.

  3. Good luck with your decision, G&L– I think that you should do it. Perhaps you could raise some money online, via donations? I know a lot of bloggy people would contribute something, and who knows who else… I hope you can find a way to get your chance.

  4. Oh G&L, I’m sorry about that stupid bedroom. I do most earnestly believe that it will be filled with joy in the misty future, one way or another. (And NOT because you’ve moved out!) And I so understand your reservations about that massive risk. But you had two things working against you guys this whole time, so it’s understandable that your heroic eggs and the Mr.’s valiant sperm might not have got the job done. And now you’ve only got one think working against you. And if you do choose IVF, you’d be doing it to take science’s best whack at that one thing.

    When we were gearing up for IVF, one of my nightmares was that it would end up being diagnostic of more serious problems. “OH, his sperm won’t fertilize my eggs or we can’t produce an embryo that will live, THAT’S why I’m still barren!” I imagine that scenario might loom large. If you find yourself moving towards IVF, I bet that’s something you could talk to your RE about (i.e., how many cases like that they see, what the chances are that there are unknown problems in addition to known challenges…). My recollection is that all testing indicates you’ve got great eggs.

    As for what it’s like…I’ve had one experience of seeing it when I knew there was actually hope. I felt calm, at first, for a few minutes, while my brain processed what it meant. “There’s something there. There’s really something there.” Then I felt completely overjoyed. I haven’t been able to get rid of that test yet. I take it out and look at it occasionally. I pray to whatever powers exist that you are much closer to that moment than you might imagine, and that the time you’ve spent waiting and grieving an easy experience will make it all the more powerful.

  5. I’m sorry, G&L. 2.5 years is a long time — we’re 1 year behind you, and I already find it hard. It could be MFI… As Bunny said, something I fear is that we’ll find out that even more is wrong, on top of our known issues. Something that diminishes our chances even more… I’m sure you (and everyone ttc) knows those dark thoughts.
    All in all, I want to be hopeful. Hopeful that it can work, one way or another. Not that I manage to feel this way every day, but I am trying. We’re looking for a 2 bedroom apartment in New City… although I fear there will be days when I look at it in the way you just described.
    Hoping that for both of us, the 2nd bedroom will soon be filled with laughter (and, ok, the occasional screaming, we’ll take that, too).

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