Monday, May 28, 2012

Negative, Ghost Rider

Last night ended one of the most difficult, ambiguous weeks through this entire "journey".  Not the ending I wanted, but at least it ended.

As we said previously, T and I did not go into this round with high hopes.  We knew we were working against the odds.  We should have sailed right through these two weeks, and just shrugged our shoulders when it didn't work.

Except, I started getting almost every pregnancy symptom in the book last week.  Some of the basics, and even some of the more strange ones.  I have been through 20 cycles of trying to conceive.  I know what an unsuccessful cycle feels like.  And this did not feel like an unsuccessful cycle whatsoever.  I emailed my symptoms around implantation to the nurse and she thought it sounded extremely positive and was excited for me.  I took quizzes online that said that I was very likely pregnant, and to keep testing.  My charting app gave me 75 points out of 100 in my "pregnancy monitor" based on my temperatures (your temperatures follow a certain pattern throughout cycles and pregnancy), symptoms, etc.  I have never gotten above ~30 points before. 

So what did T and I do?  Exactly what you should not do when you are at this point.  We got hopeful.  We even tilted into all-out confidence. He bought champagne for that first positive pregnancy test (which really was just for him, but the man knows how to celebrate).  T discussed his concern that the baby would be due on February 4th, 2013 - a day after the Super Bowl.  He was genuinely trying to figure out if he would record the Super Bowl and watch later, or hope that we went early and would be back home by then?  We ignored the fact that I kept getting negative results on pregnancy tests, and told ourselves that some people just don't get them right away.  Even 30 minutes before our dreams were dashed last night, we were looking at cribs and crib bedding on different websites, and discussing how much we loved safari themes for little boys. 

I'm still not sure what happened this past week. It certainly was not normal.  It hurt us emotionally.  I have never seen my husband cry as much as he did last night (I noted the cracking in his voice sounded suspiciously like the time he called me when his favorite character on Dr. Who didn't survive.  I stand by my conclusion that he cried like a baby then, too).    Strangely, this cycle was even worse than our failed IVF.  That damn confidence gets you every time.

But we'll try again, because that's what we do.  We also turn a celebratory bottle of champagne into glorious mimosas during a Memorial Day breakfast at home.  We hug and we kiss and we move on.  I've said this before, and I'll say it every month --- I could not do this without T.  He claims I wouldn't have to do it if I wasn't with him.  Which may be true (although is not a proven fact), but I certainly wouldn't be happier in that instance.  *warning: mushiness ahead:  He is my rock and my best friend and I will do any of this, as long as we are doing it together.  *end mushiness :)

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