The Day Has Finally Come: Beta Test Day
Well it’s here, tomorrow is beta day and my heart can’t stop beating. I can’t focus on anything else and I’ve already cried twice today.
The thing is, is that for me, this place is all too familiar. I’ve been here 5 other times and only one time did I get a “good news” call with a BFP. I remember how happy I was, I couldn’t even believe it. It was the best feeling I had ever felt because of how long I had been fighting.
Well here I am a year later, and after that BFP miscarried, we had two other failed transfers. So sadly, it’s hard not to remember the way the room felt, the way the walls caved in every single one of those times that we got the call that started with “I’m so sorry Erin.”
I remember vividly where we were for each phone call. I was in NYC for my first one. They said I could do the blood test there, so we did. We had plans to go see “Dear Evan Hansen” that night on Broadway, and after the call with the BFN let’s just say I wasn’t just crying through that play I was sobbing.
The second time I was home, and this time I was so sure it had worked. But I asked the clinic to call Nick’s phone. I hadn’t heard from him and he kept reassuring me he hadn’t heard from the clinic, but I knew something was wrong. He later walked through the front door and I just knew, I started sobbing. It was another BFN.
The third try, the “charm,” so we thought. It was amazing. We were both home and they called us. I made Nick answer and we went into the other room since the girls were playing near us. “You guys! It worked! You’re pregnant!” Our nurse was so excited; I couldn’t believe it. We did it! So much relief was running down my veins. All this heartache was for something, for this little embryo. And yet as quickly as this good news came, 8 weeks later it was taken away in an instant, with another “I’m sorry Erin…the baby has stopped growing.”
Clearly that was the hardest. The loss felt far greater than any other. But we kept going. After three and a half months, two misoprostol pills and a D&C later, the miscarriage was behind us. We did our next transfer that following May 2019. We thought we were ready. However, apparently we weren’t because again, we got a BFN. Here we were again, speechless.
Nick knew we had to try again. We did our 4th egg retrieval that summer. We had 3 very good looking and PGS normal embryos! We were ready this time, mentally way more prepared and confident with these new little embryos. So, there we went, another transfer, and yes, another failed attempt in August. I crumbled. I thought that was it. I wasn’t sure if I could go on. Nick was home, the doctor had personally called us this time as he was also baffled. I remember sitting at the dining room table. Just asking why, and what else can we do.
So, testing. That’s what else we had to do. A pelvic MRI and a hysteroscopy to biopsy my uterus. That was one of the worst physical pains I had felt. But I was hopeful that something would be found. Nothing too bad, just something to lead us to an answer as to WHY. And sure, enough the diagnosis was an inflamed uterus and a small form of adnomyosis. This meant menopause inducing medications for 2 months.
Here I am now. It’s been a long road. We’ve done everything we were “supposed” to do. We’ve checked everything and we felt so confident going in. I’m not sure where the confidence was lost but perhaps its due to all the loss and all the heartache. Perhaps my perception of all this is so jaded now and I can’t fully be excited or truly believe that this can happen. I know there is a reason I’m still doing this and still pushing but man, I can’t seem to push away all the terrifying memories and moments that IVF has caused us. I can’t seem to block the negatives and fully focus on the positive. I can’t seem to not be petrified of tomorrow and what tomorrow means.
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