A Fresh Miracle

We've been through the ringer in these three years, and the hits just keep coming.  But today was an a-ha day.  A breakthrough.  A touchstone moment.

We met an old friend of the sperm donor at some bar with his new wife.  They just moved back to town after years.  The gossip is the divorce of another dear friend.  So fun, so full of life, with an awesome marriage.  They had a miscarriage, and the marriage just couldn't take it, and it fell apart.  Divorce pending.

Don't get me wrong, miscarriage did a number on my marriage, and I get it.  But after what we have been through in three years, it's like having our house swept away by a hurricane and someone else complaining when their water heater breaks.

I would never say this out loud, and I barely know this guy, and I'd never met his wife.  And then she said it.  We've been through four failed IVF cycles, she said.  She's 41.  And if anything can strengthen a marriage it's that.  Pssh.  One silly miscarriage.  Everyone has that.

I mean, yea, maybe looking back now, four embryos down, almost dying, five figures, 80 doctor visits, shit.  Maybe that does make our marriage stronger?

And this new wife.  41.  A doctor.  Never wanted kids.  Four failed cycles, my god.  And if she could go back in my shoes she would do it fresh and have no regrets.  Wow.

And then, when we got home from the bar, we talked about it.  We have been through so much.  If we can make it through this, we can make it through anything.  Certainly a piddly little fresh IVF cycle is no big deal after all of this.  We are stronger.  We are united.  We are doing a fresh cycle.  We will stand together and we will have no regrets.

Fresh? Frozen?

Here I am nine months after I started my IVF journey.  And I'm back at my original dilemma from my WTF appointment.  Two weeks to decide.  Fresh.  Frozen.  No idea.

I have five embryos in the freezer.  Great ones, actually.  Of course, I have now had four great embryos that have all died one way or another.  So, yea.  I live in the worst case scenario, in the failure category.  I can't wrap my head around FET working.  Nothing has worked, after all.

It makes me feel better to stock the freezer.  That maybe with 12 embryos or something, one has to eventually work.  Maybe I'll have to get a surrogate or something, but surely one of them would work right?

My sperm donor is not very cooperative.  His current gig involves a ton of shitty travel.  And he chose that on purpose.  This time around, I'd have to do shots myself.  Scans myself.  Do it all myself.  That's not too different than last time, I guess, except the shots.  He did almost all the shots last time.  After all this time, the shots still skeeve me out.  Hell, if I did a FET, he wouldn't even have to come home.

Just writing this out is overwhelming.  I feel like I need a break.  I went to two baby showers in the last week that I couldn't possibly skip.  Torture.  I took a flask.

I don't know what to do.  Fresh IVF was physically demanding, and a complete hormonal mindfuck when it failed.  I get why people give up now.  I get it.

Ready? No?

We have to make some choices soon.  Next cycle, we could do a FET or even another full IVF cycle.  I would be medically ready, but I don't know if I'm ready.

Physically, I am ready.  I'm grateful the misoprosotol went as planned, it was sort of natural, and I didn't have to have a D&C.  My poor boobs.  My brief pregnancy made their formerly perky glory into some kind of soft barnacle I lug like a beast of burden.  That's a little better now.  My laser hair removal is now about 1/4 reversed, which is really annoying, but I have decided to just buy razors again.  I've been working out.  I lost a little more weight.  I can do ab work I could never do before.  I started going to barre classes because whoa do those work the pelvic floor.  I might get a new trainer.

The problem is in my head.  Mentally, I now know far too much about loss.  I am now expecting the worst.  I could handle a failed cycle.  I even think I could handle the hormonal hell and logistic torture of a fresh IVF cycle.  But I'm not sure I can survive another miscarriage, honestly.  I don't know if I can do it.  I'm not sure my marriage can take it.  My sperm donor handled this one particularly badly, and he still won't talk about it.  I'm not sure my brain can wrap around another miscarriage without breaking.

And I feel like I'm wasting so much TIME.  I got pregnant in January, and now it will be June before we can even start any of these cycles.  Even though I feel the clock ticking, I feel like there is no time to waste, I'm not ready.  I can't go through this again.

Status Update: So Sad

I knew it was just a question of time.  I can't bring myself to Google how pregnant I should be, 16 weeks?  18?  Three years?  My SIL Hermione changed her Facebook profile picture to some photo of pickles and ice cream and confirmed it.  November.  She's pregnant.  With my due date.

And so everyone and their dog is posting, reposting.  Great-Grandma is flying in.  Auntie is flying in. Someone is knitting.  Someone is sending a bunch of clothes.  Already, they know she's going to be the best mom.  MIL posting about so excited to be a grandma.  She's having the first grandbaby, and I've got nothing.  How stupid was I for ever thinking anything would be normal.  Nothing will ever be normal again.

And the cheese stands alone.

No Brunch Kthanks

You know what, I've been a lousy friend.  And I'm sorry.  I don't want to exchange fifteen texts if you can maybe fit me into brunch.  I don't want to talk about basketball.  I forgot your birthday.  I don't care that he didn't text you back.  I don't want to check out the new whatever.  I can't deal with kids' anything.  I do want to get completely drunk, that was fun.  I also enjoyed that racist comedy show where I forgot all of this for a split second.  But other than that, I don't care.  I'm not here.

I said all along one of the most shocking things to me was how my friends' reactions.  I will accept most of the blame.  I didn't know how to educate them, hell, I didn't know what I was going through myself.  But I also was unclear about what I needed, when someone was being an asshole, and when I just needed a hand.  And maybe I'm a bummer.

And this time around, losing a heartbeat, was no different.  Maybe I should have told someone that I need something.  Something.  Something?  What?  I think it doubled down when it took my sperm donor out for the count -- he still won't talk about what actually happened.  He was unmoved by IVF or my emergency surgery, but that one shook him.

But what good would that support do?  A text can't solve this.  Brunch can't fix it.  I don't know how to explain how I feel.  It's very dark in here.  I'm not sure how to recover from this.  I don't even know what I'm looking for.  You would think after all these losses it would be easier.  But I think the reverse is true.  I think each experience is taking parts of me.  I know that I will never be the same.  It is taking my optimism.

I feel like I am watching someone else's life.  Some pathetic woman who just keeps piling on like a sitcom, to laugh at.  Again and again, the hits keep coming.  And every time that girl is stupid enough to try again as if something will change this time.  Stupid girl.  I feel like I have no control, and I'm just watching that pathetic girl flounder and get punched.  Make no mistake, I'm the punchline.  And I don't know how to say that I might appear to be at a comedy show on Facebook, but it's not true.  My life is somewhere else entirely.

Failed IVF was one thing.  Pathetic.  Pity.

But this is another level of pathetic.  Everyone knows this isn't just an everyday miscarriage.  After three years of struggle, this is what I got.  So I don't even get the no-big-deal, miscarriage minimizing shit.  I just get nothing.  No one says a damn word.  I think next time around I get the adoption pity.  Pretty surprised that hasn't happened yet, actually.

God, I told so many people I was pregnant, and everyone is acting like nothing happened.  I'm not OK.