Zero.December 4, 2010 at 11:24 pm | Posted in Heartbreak, Infertility | 11 Comments
After the process dragging out for more than two weeks, my beta levels came back at zero today.
I am officially unpregnant.
I was relieved when I got the call. Because we have our follow up consult on Wednesday afternoon, and I wanted to have a discussion about dates so that I can begin to figure out how we’ll get around the monitoring nonsense with dropoff and pickup and whether or not the whole schedule would work with my January work schedule.
And that would be impossible if there was a “well, we can’t start until you get a negative beta.”
Blah blah blah.
But in the few moments I had to myself today, I felt on the verge of tears.
I’m not pregnant.
Honestly, I am utterly emotionally stunted.
Lately I spend my days trying to ESCAPE emotion; keeping myself busy and moving and focused on the few things I can control. I dance with O, play cars with him, cajole him out of his pajamas, cook dinner, straighten the house, order Christmas presents, address cards, work, sleep, run.
I avoid hugs and kisses and intimacy with my husband.
And if I keep moving, sometimes I can outrun the grief.
And then I have moments where it hits me out of nowhere. All of it – Judy’s death, which is still too painful for me to even THINK about.
I can’t remove her cell phone number from mine. I want to call it, to hear her voice on her voicemail, maybe leave a message to tell her how much I love her and how much she touched my life. And how sorry I am I never said that before.
I did take her name off our holiday card list, because I hate the idea of causing my uncle additional pain when he sees a card addressed to he AND his wife of 41 years. I hated every second of doing that, and I long to put her name back on.
Because, you know, that’ll bring her back.
And when I DO let myself feel it?
I have no idea what I’m grieving for.
For my cousin. My grandfather. My aunt. The pieces of my childhood that they tied together, how much they made me feel loved during a period in my life where I believed I was incapable of being the sort of person other people love.
My embryos. The part of my life where my husband and I have the ability to create life together, without schedules and doctors and embryologist. Our reproductive experiences have been mostly fraught with failure, with one lucky Win.
So much loss.
I know people have been through so much worse than me. I KNOW I’m lucky to have O, really fucking lucky. And I know my experiences have made me a better person; responsible, empathetic, and focused on my friendships and family.
But in those moments, I can’t think about that.
All I see is how much I’ve lost.