Twisted Ovaries

I'll Take the Next Bus

I haven't cried.

I admit I got really wobbly when watching Desperate Housewives Friday night, which we'd recorded on Sky Plus. Gabrielle went to the birth of her adopted daughter, and that part got fast forwarded in our household as it was a step too far for me. I've had 7 weeks of back-to-back tears on all these hormones, but with one negative I was all dried up. The well is empty. I am completely numb. As I told my therapist this morning, I have checked out of the building and I have taken any and all emotions with me.

He cried for me instead, as I sat there, numb.

8 hours after receiving the negative, my period started. The RE had asked if I'd had any blood and Aidan had told her no, I hadn't (he's the one who called in to the clinic to inform them I was negative because I couldn't face it. To which she'd replied, "Bummer." Sitting here now, that feels rather unreal but at the time I was wondering why she said "Bummer," or if she herself even knew what that felt like. A "bummer" is when you just missed your train by 30 seconds. A "bummer" is when your lotto ticket was one number off. A "bummer" is when you realize the zip is broken and your kickers are exposed to the world. A "bummer" is not when you find out 7 weeks of yearning was, quite literally, fruitless.) Just 8 hours after the no, the blood I had feared so much for two weeks was here.

Combine that with us receing a letter that day from our IVF doctor informing us that our 5 other embryos are cryo-frozen and wishing us the best of luck, it really was coincidence slapping us in the face.

My period started off as a slow brown leak, constant yet unassuming, the beginnings of my body dismantling that oh so perfect lining I had once had. By Saturday morning the flow had picked up in speed and turned red, and inside I felt like something was being pulled out, that there was some kind of tearing from quite high up, that things were being ripped out.

I suppose that's exactly what it is.

The RE talked us through next steps-I have to have this period, but as it's not really considered a period since my hormones have absolutely no idea which way is up, only that it's spring cleaning time, a 50% off sale, and this uterine lining has got to go. I have to wait until my next period, and 21 days after that we will transfer either one or two frozen embryos, depending on advice from the RE (however I am ever mindful that the success rate from one FET (frozen embryo transfer) is around 15%, and that is so low it's uncomfortable.) Depending on my next period, we're looking at kicking things off around mid-June and implanting the last week of June.

So I have 6-7 weeks now. 6-7 weeks of making sure I look forward instead of behind. 6-7 weeks trying not to panic that we are one step closer to the end of the possibility of children. 6-7 weeks trying not to dwell on the fact that IVF #3 was a bust. I can try to do that. I can work with this nice boy in the house who is treating me like a fragile flower, and in his constant reassurance that this is just a setback, not the end, I take the greatest comfort.

I have not been depressed, just melancholy and unable to go deep and long. I don't want to be introspective, introspective is uncomfortable. I don't take my laptop with me, I don't want to write about anything. People who have known about this cycle (I did have to tell a few people due to time constraints) ask about it and I brush it off, I don't want to talk about it. The iPod is tuned to perfectly ambivalent music, designed to be background noise and nothing more. I watch mindless comedies and ridiculous rom-coms on TV. It is not the stuff that either of us go for but Aidan smiles and curls up on the couch with me and makes all the meals, because along with the lack of tears, I am really scatter-brained and food just sounds ok, it's not the usual drive of someone who loves her some good food. Although Friday night Aidan came out a trooper, having made me my favorite meal of homemade mac and cheese, I just really don't care about food just now, he's the one who's covering the basees.

Aidan has been brilliant. From the constant reassurance and protection to ensuring that my wine glass is always full, he's been a rock. We've had a hard past two weeks that was fraught and full of arguments (if anyone tells you that IVF isn't difficult on the woman AND the relationship then hit them hard in the windpipe for me because they're LYING. Or else they have one of those weird, freaky crunchy-granola overwhelmingly happy marriages, in which case HIT THEM ANYWAY) but we came out the other side this week, and he has been fantastic. He worked hard to get across to me that this isn't the end of the world, it is a disappointment and sad and a setback and only that, that we will try again.

His message worked, and he alone saved me from the dark side.

If I sound effusive about my boy, it's because right now I am. I know that often I write glowing things about him, that on my other blog I sometimes gush a bit. But to tell you the truth, he has been a rock. I am handling things because he's here handling them with me, and my God I love him for that.

It's been so hard to say goodbye to this cycle, to something I believed in and wanted so much.

All this, and I still haven't shed one single tear since finding out I was negative.

Posted by Vanessa at May 16, 2006 06:23 PM | TrackBack