Three. You might have been three years old today. We planned and wished and prayed and worked hard for you, but you couldn’t stay. You were gone before we ever had a chance to know you. We miss you every day. You’re inked in our skin, and written on our hearts. You have a sister
April 24th, 2012. CD1.
I wasn’t planning to write this. At least not until I returned from my trip…
I’ve come to really rely on the support of others throughout this journey, and I really needed the catharsis of blogging more than usual this month.
This week is National Infertility Awareness Week, and this year’s theme is “Don’t Ignore Infertility“.
Not that I’ve had the opportunity to ignore infertility this week… Nothing like a negative blood pregnancy test to make you painfully aware of your infertility.
Our beta was negative.
Or, more accurately, it was technically negative.
Let me ‘splain.
Although I hadn’t mentioned it here, I’ve seen a couple of faint second lines on some early home pregnancy tests in the past couple of days. I am usually very cautious about believing them, but I was overly-cautiously optimistic this time.
I started spotting on Saturday morning. Just for a half hour or so. Then nothing… Until Sunday afternoon. More spotting. Nothing on Monday, and a negative HPT this morning…
I started to bleed this morning while getting ready to head to the clinic for the beta.
By the time I arrived, I was in full flow. The doctor took my blood for the pregnancy test, and then sent me back for a Cycle Day 1 ultrasound. The nurses who performed the ultrasound were concerned that I might actually be pregnant…
When the doctor called me later to confirm the results of the blood test, she said that they had all come to the agreement that this must have been a chemical pregnancy. My HCG levels were low, and technically negative, but everything else pointed to pregnancy.
A chemical pregnancy is a fertilized egg that fails to implant. Technically not a miscarriage, but close enough.
The good news is that the eggs and sperm appear to be getting along, they just didn’t move in together at the right time. Perhaps next month they’ll get it right.
I’ll start back up on the same protocol on Thursday, and expect another IUI in early May.
This is where the whole “Don’t Ignore… Support.” thing comes in.
I need you. My friends, my family, complete caring strangers who take the time to come here and read about our many struggles and few triumphs. People who send up prayers and offer words of encouragement. Fellow humans who take time out of their busy days to think about little ol’ me and my busted uterus.
I’m not the only one who needs you, however. One in eight people in the US are currently going through what I’m going through – or worse. Which one of your coworkers is it? How many of your 300 Facebook friends are suffering in silence? Who in your family is quietly struggling this personal battle?
Thank you all for not ignoring infertility. Thank you for not overlooking or avoiding what is an invisible, but heartbreaking illness. Thank you all for understanding that it hurts in so many ways. Thank you all for your support, love, and hope.
Just… Thank you.
Infertility is a heart-wrenching, faith-questioning, relationship-testing, life-altering experience. One in eight people in this country is currently walking through hell and back to become a parent. Whether it’s a friend, a family member, a colleague or yourself, millions are fighting through this difficult fate day in and day out.
Please don’t ignore infertility.
Please support the one in eight.
April 30th, 2011. CD1.
Not that it’s a surprise or anything, but this cycle was so strange, I half-expected her to stay away for a while longer. Oh well, I suppose. No help for that. Moving along to other things…