I don’t have it in me to write much of a blog post. Or do anything but lay in my bed, cry, & stare blankly into the void. I don’t know if this is even coherent. But, here this is anyway.
What a super, duper fun way to kick off Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month. Not how I thought we’d be spending this month, that’s for sure.
So. Here goes.
We found out on Friday that we were, miraculously, pregnant after ONE stellar round of IVF. We were shocked but also felt like “Well this is it. Everything went so well, this is to be expected after such smooth sailing!” Ha. The Embebé really said “Hell naw” & yeeted itself at straight back into the blackness of non & never-existence.
We’re devastated & I feel stupid & naïve for getting excited & telling people at all. Because God or the universe wouldn’t take a baby away from people who struggled to conceive in the first place, lost that baby before Mother’s Day, & then endured 28 more months of infertility, RIGHT?!
Yeah. No. Clearly, no one gives a shit. It’s all arbitrary. And to be honest y’all, I’m fucking delirious with anger. Didn’t we learn our lesson last time? I remember texting a friend, terrified, in 2019:
“God wouldn’t take away a baby from someone who struggled to conceive it, right?”
L O L.
As I said. If there’s anything out there (this very much solidifies to me that there ain’t shit), it very clearly doesn’t give a flying or grounded fuck about us. It’s all arbitrary.
I’m furious at my clinic because I sent 2 portal messages before my blood work at 8 am EST yesterday. I shared my concerns that I was having a chemical pregnancy. My tests had been getting lighter since Friday when I took one only after getting the phone call. We even sat down with the nurse after my blood work to talk. My appointment was at 8:00 am EST. We were the only ones there. Theoretically, mine should’ve been the first one processed & I should’ve been the first one called, right? My portal message from before my bloodwork was answered hours later when we were already home & painfully waiting. Both of us attempting to get some work done. We were convinced that sending those messages sharing our very real concerns coupled with talking to the nurse would move us up a list of calls for the day. Not so. We found out at 1:09 pm EST. via EMAIL that I was no longer pregnant because my beta hCG dropped from 91 to 9. I sent ANOTHER message to the portal saying I’d read the results because they were freaking EMAILED to me by the lab. Hour after hour of laying in bed & sobbing with my husband & excruciatingly going back & telling everyone this baby was ALSO not sticking around, no call. No response on the portal. No call.
Eventually, I was fuming mad & furious enough that I’d had enough. I called & left a stern (okay I was a bitch, but they deserved it & still have yet to see the depths of my disgust, disappointment, & wrath tbh) voicemail at 4:00 pm EST for them to finally call me back at 4:30. This is unacceptable & I told the nurse as much. I plan on sharing this with the doctor when we speak Thursday. They made a terrible, no good, very bad day & situation even terribler, not good, very bad. The nurse was kind but she passed the buck.
“The lab never should’ve done that. We like the doctor to review the results before calling & making any recommendations. Or checking to see if he wants a patient to come back for repeat bloodwork. But he was very busy today & it was difficult to get him in between patients.”
Ok. It doesn’t matter what the lab should or should not have done. What about you? YOU didn’t call before they released them, nor did you even respond to me or deign to call me back. Come back for repeat bloodwork? Even I, a mere imbecile patient, could see that there is no way in hell that this was a viable pregnancy. At least I don’t have to go through the torture of repeated blood draws every 2-3 days for the next however many hellacious weeks. But still.
I hope they’re ashamed of themselves & feel like shit. They should be both. This was truthfully unacceptable patient handling. Un. Acc. Ept. Able. Imagine finding out the worst fucking news of your entire life (for the second time, after nearly 40 months of failure, science, & $20,000) in a lab emailed report??? Seriously. I want you to sit there & imagine it. It’s shit, yeah? Sit in that for 5 minutes & maybe you’ll feel an iota of the hell my husband & I get to face.
We’ll be fine. Because we’re strong, & we always are. We’re pretty used to living deep & hard within the despair as the world spins madly on around us & passes us by. It’s par for the course.
And, as I’ve said in previous posts, what is the alternative? What other choice do we have? To be unalive? I don’t want to actively unalive myself. But I don’t want to be in pain. Hell, I don’t even want to feel anything anymore.
I can tell you one thing for sure: we’ve learned our lesson & we will be uber private from here on out with everything & everyone. Having to go back & renege on our good news one by one was excruciatingly painful. It was like ripping off a new scab over & over & over again until there’s nothing but a bloody mess of tissue left raw, exposed, & throbbing. That’s what we are: raw, exposed, & throbbing. Our pain has a palpable energy. A pulse. Again, it feels silly to grieve something that barely ever was. But your life changes when you hear “You’re pregnant!” & then see those two lines. Our hope dwindled with each passing day, & each fading second line. But we still stupidly clung to hope like the fools the world wanted to make us out to be. All for it to be shattered. By an EMAIL. How very 2021 *insert eye roll here*
As always: I’m not asking for advice, or input, or suggestions. And truthfully, I don’t even really want your faith & your prayers right now either. They didn’t work before & they didn’t work last time; even with science on our side. Sheesh what a slap in the face. That’s 4 ticks in the “y’all can’t even conceive with science in your back pocket” column. Neat, neat. neat. So, yeah. Put a lid on tots & pears & shove it.
I can’t say “much love or hope for a return to the light” on this one, guys. I don’t have much left in me. Sorry. I’m out. I’m gonna cuddle & cry into my dogs’ furry necks until they’re matted messes & hate me.
Oh simple thing, where have you gone? /
I’m getting old and I need something to rely on /
So tell me when you’re gonna let me in /
I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin /
Keane “Somewhere Only We Know.”
Soulstice: Return of the Light 