Heartbroken. Devastated. Distraught. Absolutely no word I even type can describe how we are feeling or what we are going through, yet again. Another failed transfer. Another failed transfer of “normal” PGS embryos. FAILED. An 80% success rate down the drain. $10,000 down the drain. The pain. The agony. It’s just too much. My faith has faded. There’s nothing left. Six IVF cycles and I still can’t get pregnant or carry a child to term. SIX. Yes you read that right — we have been through SIX (insert f-word here) in vitro cycles. No…that’s not normal. We’ve lost TEN embryos…TEN babies. And since October $10,000 spent on testing, freezing, courier fees all not covered by insurance.
You’re probably asking yourself “Why do they keep trying?” “Why didn’t they tell anybody about the transfer?” Well my friends and family…after a while, keeping you in the loop is pointless to me. It adds way more anxiety and more pressure for it to work. Also, when a “fertile” is trying to get pregnant they don’t usually share that news so why should I share mine? I’m trying to keep our journey feel somewhat “normal” – Ha, like that could ever happen. I’m becoming a broken record. Same thing over and over again, and no results to show for anything. It’s more embarrassing than anything. The prayers can stop. Thank you for them and while we’ve appreciated them, they’ve also clearly done us no good. They’ve all gone unanswered. So thanks for that God. Keep up the great work.
Cause I actually thought the prayers I said daily, nightly with my husband while he rubbed Holy Water on my tummy (thank you to my cousin Hannah for that!) would make a difference. WRONG. If anything, they kept a little glimmer of hope inside me so I guess that’s something.
But now…now that’s faded. The hope is gone. I have no joy. No cheer. No light. Complete and utter devastation is probably a good way to put it. Here we are, going on our 4th year of infertility while everyone we know around us is pregnant or has newborns. I bet we know 10-15 friends/family pregnant right now. Some with the help of IVF on their first round. Believe me, we are happy for you. But it’s a CONSTANT reminder of what we will most likely never have. And it is heartbreaking. HEARTBREAKING. There are no words to describe NOR will you EVER EVER EVER understand what we have been through.
I’m actually pretty sure I’ve been keeping the pregnancy test companies in business. Hell, all “infertiles” do. Am I right ladies?
I can’t bring myself to go to baby showers. I haven’t gone to one in about three years. So please, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d much rather prefer to not even get invited. I’ve had a few friends not invite me on purpose and you have no idea how much respect that shows me that they have. I don’t need birth announcements either. I see enough of your fifteen posts daily on Instagram or other social media. Yes, you’re proud and thankful. We know. Hell, I would be too. If I ever had a kid, I’d post hella pictures too because I wouldn’t believe it was true. But it’s a slap in the face to me and my body. I can’t do what a woman’s body is supposed to do — carry a baby. Feel that baby kick. Feel the hiccups. Talk to the baby at night or read lullabies. Feel the pain of labor. Or hear the beautiful sounds of a baby crying – yes, it’s the most precious noise to me. But, I won’t get any of it. I had to pick up a dedication gift for our Goddaughter a couple weeks ago and I couldn’t even do that without crying.
So, back to what got us here…we transferred two beautiful babies on Jan 7th. The day couldn’t have gone more perfectly. My due date…would have been the week of my dad’s birthday. All the more reason I thought it was a sure sign it would work.
We do everything we can to try to get these babies to stick. No caffeine. Nothing cold to drink. Eat only warming foods. NO ICE CREAM! Try acupuncture (which costs hella money by the way). Warm your back every night. Warm your belly. Warm your feet. Bed rest day of transfer. Keep up with the meds (which by the way, the side effects are just f-word lovely). I haven’t thrown away any of my sharps containers yet since we started in vitro and I bet it would just make you sick the amount of shit I’ve injected into my body…five times a day sometimes during a stim cycle.
Oh, but don’t worry. No one considers infertility a disease. Most insurance companies actually consider it an “optional” treatment. Optional? Yes. It’s my fault I have PCOS and only one fallopian tube. It was totally my choice to not be able to have sex and get pregnant.
What we have been through is what no one, and I mean NO ONE, should ever ever EVER have to go through. And if I hear ONE MORE PERSON tell me to “just relax and try it on your own again” or “just think about adopting” or “maybe you should take a break” — relaxing doesn’t help. Adopting is around $50,000 and I can’t just go pick out a baby and go home with one. Do you have that kind of money laying around? Take a break? I’m 31 years old and wanted a baby by the time I was 30. We want what we want and didn’t give up hope once. We kept pushing. I think that takes a lot of courage and fight. But now…my hope is gone. My fight is gone.
I’m done. This one takes the cake.