I mean, I wish there was some funny spin to put on a negative home pregnancy test, after your 25th month of trying to get pregnant, and after your first procedure of state-of-the-art motherfucking SCIENCE fails.
But really. I knew how this was going to end. Don't think for one second I was little miss sunshine this entire cycle. I'm still saying "if" we ever have a baby, and "if" I ever get pregnant. And "if" any single person tries to tell me that I need to think positive if I want to get a positive result? Well, I will positively knock their ass out.
Transfer was last Saturday. Monday - Thursday, I felt like ass on a platter. I was sick, burping and dry heaving at my desk. Pretty much feeling like the antibiotic they made me take was eating an escape hole in my stomach. Because maybe my antibiotic would have more fun floating around my abdominal cavity? I don't know why.
During the same time, I felt weird. Tired, sick, my boobs were so sore and I thought for a second...hey, maybe...
Then Friday - poof! I felt 100% better. Like I haven't felt since I started Lupron. I felt like a million bucks, which I wish I had right now so that I could commence serious retail therapy. Saturday? The same. Felt fine.
Sunday. Sunday I got the bad news from Katie. And it just sealed my fears that this did.not.work. I could feel it. I could feel it on Friday when I was all, "fuck, where did the "symptoms" go?" And yes I know that pregnancy doesn't have to be a hormonal war of the worlds, but it just felt like something changed between Thursday and Friday where I couldn't even think in my mind that we had a shot of this working.
On Sunday I told Mark, "I don't think it worked." And he was like, "what? all of it" and I said yes. He was the first person I admitted it to. I had one pregnancy test left from the IUI we did in November, and even though I was adamant about not testing before the beta, I knew I would test Monday morning. I knew because we have Friday off, and we made a bunch of plans, and I just want to have the day off and enjoy it. I wanted to get the pain out of the way.
Despite my thought that a negative pregnancy test would be less of a blow if I knew it was negative, it was awful. I felt like going outside and running as fast as I could because my heart was pounding and I couldn't catch my breath. All I could, and all I keep, thinking is how we are never going to be able to have a family, because this is it. It doesn't work for us. We had doctors fertilize our fucking eggs for us, we had the embryos halfway hatched going in, we had steroids to make my uterus all but suck in the embryo. And no. We still don't get the one thing that everyone else gets for FREE! By having sex and maybe an orgasm!
So I cried at home before I left, and cried in the car on the way to work. Then I had to make myself stop crying before I got to work because hello? AM UGLY CRIER! Everyone will know! I think the red satanic eyes, tomato face, and snot hanging down to my chin would be obvious. So I drove with my windows down in 30 degree weather for the last 20 minutes.
Have you ever seen American Beauty? I was all Annette Benning at work - were she was trying to sell that shitty house to someone, and she closes all the windows and starts bawling for about 20 seconds, then she stands up and starts slapping herself in the face. Then she's composed, fine, walks right out of the house with a smile on her face. Totally me at work. I would tear up, then in my mind, I'd be saying, "stop it, you fucking pathetic baby. stop it. get over yourself." And I'd be fine for a little while.
Being Monday and all, I had work, then school. So all I could think about all day was just getting back to my car after class and letting it go. Just crying all the way home and crying myself to sleep. But apparently scheduled crying isn't all it's cracked up to be, and instead of wanting to cry, I just wanted to listen to old school Mariah Carey on shuffle (Mimi is my vice. My secret weakness).(shut up) So I did. And then I came home and ate popcorn, cheese cubes and pickles, because it was the first time all day that I had any appetite at all. Thanks Mimi - your music brought back my appetite.
I also got my letter today about the 5 extra embryos that were sitting in the lab, trying to get to blast. 4 of them "died in culture," and only one made it to freeze. And yes, yes, yes, aren't we lucky to have 3 on ice and blah blah blah. But excuse me for being the smug jerk who thought hey! we're young and healthy! We should have 5 or 6 make it to blast and freeze! No. 3. That is all. And all of them were ICSI, because apparently there is not a shot in hell of us having an egg fertilized naturally.
I tried to get online and google anything to make me feel better, but all you find are stories of BPF at 7dp3dt! BFN and 7dp3dt but BFP at 8dp3dt! You don't see anyone saying, yeah well, BFN 10dp3dt, then BFP 11dp3dt because if you have a negative at 10 days past, you should hang it up. You're toast. Not good toast with peanut butter - shitty toast that is burned on one side and has butter substitute sprayed on it.
And now I just feel kind of bitter and weird. I don't want to talk to anybody, because I know people are sick of the ridiculous failure. I know that people will try to say something nice, but will probably just say something like, "well, there's always adoption" or "you should've done acupuncture, then it would've worked." Because why not? I mean, you kick a homeless guy as you walk by him when he's down, right? Why not just kick me, too. In the uterus. Go ahead. There's nothing in there that you could hurt anyways.