Grief, Healing, and the Future

Yesterday was hard. That goes without saying. Getting the news that our first IVF attempt was unsuccessful was not news we had hoped to receive. But, if I'm being honest, it was not completely surprising, at least to me. J was far more shocked than I was. I expressed fear and doubt about half way through the 10-day waiting period from transfer to beta day and I wanted to believe it was just that: fear and doubt. But deep down, I knew it was intuition, and I couldn't explain it. And maybe some of you reading this won't believe me, and that's fine. But I knew it hadn't worked several days before getting the official results. I expressed this to our doctor yesterday, who had the unfortunate task of relaying our negative beta results, and he was not at all surprised by my admission. He said that in his experience, the women who truly, deep down in their gut feel that it didn't work, are usually correct. Women often express fear that it didn't work but that's normal, most everyone is fearful it won't or hasn't worked. But to feel it in your bones, to feel it so absolutely, he said those women tend to be right. Of course there are women who get pleasantly shocked when their gut feeling is proved to be wrong, and I had so hoped to be one of those women, but I wasn't. And it was terrible. Yes, the news didn't come as a true shock but the news was still devastating. I sobbed in my bosses office for close to a half an hour and wished that I could grieve in J's arms instead of at work (sidenote: I am so thankful my boss was so kind and has been so wonderfully supportive throughout this process). But for me, I think the most difficult part of yesterday's news was knowing that despite ALL the intervention and medical help, and despite all of our best efforts and after putting myself through all of the meds and the doctor appointments...we were still unsuccessful. How can that be? It seems unfathomable. Sometimes, there are things the doctor can point to and say, "Well, maybe if that had been better, or "next time, we'll do this differently," but that wasn't the case with us. We had a near perfect cycle. Everything was going so well and it all looked so good so surely, the outcome would reflect the process thus far...but it doesn't work that way. Sometimes, it just flat out doesn't work. No reason, no explanation. And that's what we're dealing with. And THAT is hard to accept.

Before I go any further, I want to thank you all for your loving words of support. Receiving your texts and email messages last night was of great comfort to us. I certainly didn't relish sharing the news with you, least of all my parents, as I know you all were hoping for success right along with us. You have been so wonderful, thank you. When I finally got home (I had a work thing to get through but was granted permission to leave earlier than I had anticipated, which was so appreciated), we ordered Thai food from a favorite restaurant, J poured himself some bourbon, I had a glass of wine, and we just spent a quiet evening together watching Seinfeld reruns. We unplugged and tried to unwind and we even danced together in the living room to just be silly and smile for a bit. I am so lucky to have J -- he even removed our embie photo from the fridge so I wouldn't have to. We'll get through this together, one day at a time. We need to allow ourselves to grieve what could have been, but then we have to pick ourselves up and soldier on. Hope is still very much alive...in the form of our three beautiful embies on ice. For their sake and ours, it is imperative that we regain (and retain!) our sense of optimism and excitement in the process because we want to try again.

So, that begs the question of, what's next?

I am to await my cycle, which should arrive in the next few days. Then, on day three of that cycle, I will once again begin taking birth control pills. This will help my ovaries return to their normal size and function and will also help my hormone levels return to their normal state. In the next month, I will get another SIS (saline intrauterine sonogram) to make sure all looks well and that no residual follicles remain. Then, with the onset of that very NEXT menstrual period, I will begin taking estrogen tablets 2x a day (orally! yahoo!) leading up to our first FET (frozen embryo transfer). They will start by defrosting the embies on ice one at a time. If one doesn't survive the thaw, they will move on to the next one. Our doctor is confident that out of the three we have, at least one will survive the defrosting process, which is, as you can imagine, tough on the embryo. A big takeaway to remember is this: although this IVF cycle didn't have the outcome we had hoped for, it did give us four beautiful embryos: one we used, and three others that are currently being cryo-preserved. We are so grateful that I won't have to go through all of those crazy stimulation drugs again! Those remaining three beautiful embies mean that all I will have to do this go-around is eat well, get rest, continue acupuncture, get a few blood draws leading up to transfer day, take my estrogen pills and later, the progesterone shots post-transfer. SO MUCH LESS than this last time. Far fewer doctor appointments, far less wear and tear on my body and system, far less stress. Thank you, embies, thank you, thank you. If all goes well and to plan, we are looking at an early October transfer date, although it could be as early as late September. We shall see.

According to our doctor, FETs have just as much chance of success as a fresh transfer, so we are holding on to hope that this next time will bring us our miracle. In the meantime, we will grieve, but we will also heal and then we will move on. Our child is still out there, and we're not giving up.

Love you all <3