Limbo Day: Insult to Injury

My period has started full force and I took one more test just to be sure. It was as negative as could be. My official blood test is not scheduled until Saturday. I will not let this go on until then - I need to move on. I called my clinic and left a rather snarky message at 8:30 a.m. that went a little something like this:

"My name is Kimberly Marksberry. My pregnancy test is scheduled for Saturday. It was supposed to be Friday but I am unavailable on Fridays so I tried to change it to Thursday but was told that Thursday would be impossible because its 'way too early'. Well apparently its not too early because I started my period. I need to move on and I am not waiting until Saturday to get my test. Please call me back as soon as possible to let me know what time to come in today for my test."

I waited until 10:30 with no response and called again, leaving another, similar but more desperate sounding message. In order to get same day results you have to test in the first half of the day so I was determined to get this resolved before noon. A nurse finally called me back about 5 minutes before I was going to call a third time and demand to speak to a person. She was very understanding and said I could come in whenever I wanted. I settled on noon so that Randy could come with me on his lunch hour.

For much of the day I felt oddly collected. I think the sadness of a failed cycle and loss of a potential child is tempered somewhat by the relief that at least we are closer to closing this chapter in our lives. As the clock brought us closer to testing time, though, my calm eroded away to reveal the raw pain underneath. Going to the fertility clinic where you are surrounded by so many hopeful faces (and sometimes kids that people experiencing secondary infertility bring along to their appointments - some clinics don't allow children at all and I often wish this was the policy at mine) to be subjected to another needle to test for a pregnancy you know isn't happening is like adding insult to injury. Though it seems counter-intuitive, the policy with IVF is that you have to have an official test no matter what for their records. I hate it. But that's the way it is. After 30 minutes of sitting in the waiting room for a simple blood draw (this wait did not make me feel better about my situation) we were finally called back. Thankfully, my vein decided to cooperate and we were in and out in five minutes with the promise of a call with results by 4:30.

I got the call at 2:30. Negative. So sorry. Do I want to start my frozen cycle immediately? I don't know - there is too much to think about right now. I request that the nurse ask the RE whether he recommended me losing weight and trying with the frozens in a few months or going now while my endometriosis is still somewhat under control. She said she'd call back with the answer before 5. In the mean time, Randy and I go to our previously scheduled therapy appointment. I surprise myself by not crying at all during the appointment. Randy tells me he has gotten a text with the news that my sister is being induced tonight. The perfect storm is raging around me and so far its not as bad as I had feared. Its sad. Its painful. But its endurable. So far.

We got the call back from the nurse about our frozen cycle as we wandered the aisles of Best Buy where we were shopping for a pity purchase: a replacement camera for my damaged one. The RE wants me to start as soon as possible with my frozen, while the endo is still under control. She calls in a prescription of Estrogen for me (yay - more hormones) which I will probably begin taking tomorrow to prepare my uterus for transfer in a couple weeks. I can't believe this is all happening again. Already. I don't know if I can take this again so soon. But on the other hand, doing it now will hasten the end of this period of our lives. And that will be worth it.

So tonight we sit at home with our new camera and make plans to go and use it in San Francisco in June. We need something to look forward to, whatever the outcome of this new cycle we're suddenly thrust into. Neither of us has much hope regarding the frozen cycle - frozen cycles have lower success rates than fresh, and we already used the best and brightest embryos for this fresh cycle. We are pretty sure we've got serious problems in the embryo department and its just not going to happen. But it could. But it probably won't. So I think this frozen cycle will be a lot more low key. Its certainly much less work (oral estrogen pills for a few days, then the transfer, then waiting for results - no injections or retrievals) and I think, emotionally, we're already done, already moving on.

So thank you to everyone who has embarked on this journey with us and sat through the tedious descriptions of medical procedures and the roller coaster of worry and hope. We have felt more supported than ever this cycle and I think its really helped us handle the bad news in a healthier way. We are so thankful to have all of you with us and so grateful that you have not given up on us yet. We'll keep you posted on our still enduring quest for parenthood, wherever it takes us.