This was a tough blow. Everything looked so much better this time around. The timing was better (last time, the IUI was a day late because they’re closed on Sundays); our numbers were better. I really thought this might have been it. I really thought so.
Sometimes, I just don’t get it. I mean, there are MILLIONS of swimmers. It only takes one. How does it not happen???
This one had me fooled. It wasn’t the symptoms that fooled me; it was the lack of symptoms. Last time, I felt like I was pregnant. All the symptoms. But I wasn’t.
This time, I had none of the symptoms -just a little moodiness, which isn’t typical PMS for me – so I thought that must be a good sign.
And there was no sign of my period (I have been like clockwork since my miscarriage and D&C). Not the day it was due. Not the day after it was due. I felt panic every time I went to the bathroom, but still no sign. Every minute that it hadn’t come was a minute closer I was to being in the clear. Like maybe I really was pregnant.
I took two pregnancy tests – both were negative. Maybe I implanted late and there wasn’t enough hormones in my urine yet? I knew when I ovulated – but still, my period was late. This is what happened when I was pregnant the last time. No period. Negative tests. I got a positive a week later.
I thought, for sure, this was the same thing. Two days late.
But the next day, there she was.
I was crushed. This one hit me hard. I have been pretty positive and upbeat for the past few weeks. Even the past few months. Rallying in hope and not letting myself get discouraged. I don’t think I have even cried about my unpregnant status since the last time I cried about my miscarriage – months ago.
But this time, there was a lot of tears. It was one of those days where I was hoping I would make it out of the building without anyone seeing me. Hoping no one would randomly pop into my classroom during a free period. Driving home with my sunglasses on.
J. could see it on my face immediately when he got home. He knew.
So here we are. Two IUIs down.
Sometimes, it’s really hard to hold to hope. Each month just feels defeating. Demoralizing. It’s hard to pick yourself back up and get your feet planted on hope again.
But that’s really what we have to do. Each month. Each day. Just remind ourselves that we still have hope. Just because it didn’t happen this month doesn’t mean it won’t happen.
And I really have to remind myself of that. That is immediately where my mind goes after each disappointment: “This is never going to happen!”
That just isn’t the truth. And logically, that isn’t even reasonable.
So, today, I’m still fighting. The fight feels a little harder today. It felt hard during NIAW. It felt hard when I got my period. It felt hard on Mother’s Day.
It’s all just compounded, and my heart is heavier than it’s been in a while over this. I just feel so tired – tired of trying to stay positive. Tired of feeling like a Debbie-Downer. Tired of feeling like I need to boycott Facebook for what might set me off. Tired of avoiding pregnant women and friends with babies because I just don’t want to talk about it – or hear about it. Tired of being a bad friend.
Lately, I feel like I just can’t escape it. It’s all around me. There’s no where to go.
Sometimes, I feel like this battle is stealing my soul from me. Sucking my life from me. Changing me.
However, in spite of all this, we’re not giving up. We are still fighting. We’ll try again this month.
I know God has a plan. I know God has a reason for His timing. I know, on the other side of this, what I’m feeling now will seem ‘light and momentary.’
But tonight, it’s hard.
I suppose that’s just the typical journey of infertility: lots of really, really, hard days followed by one little life that makes it all worth it.
So, for that, we don’t give up. We fight. We hold onto hope.