Sunday 16 March 2014

I Can't Cry Any More

Hours after receiving the disappointing news of our beta results, Husband and I sprawled on our sofas and started watching Real Time with Bill Maher. As per usual, we were both fast asleep before the end of the opening monologue. I felt a bit disoriented when I woke up in the living room, and as I made my way to my bed, I had a fleeting thought that my negative test might have been a dream. Except I knew that it wasn't. The magnitude of the failed transfer was really starting to settle. In someways, it was more disappointing than my recent miscarriage. I had such little faith that my first transfer would produce a viable pregnancy. This embryo was perceived to be superior. This transfer was supposed to work! Yet, it seems harder to mourn an embryo that never resulted in a pregnancy. In some ways, I feel relieved to have a decisive BFN rather than a chemical pregnancy or third miscarriage.

Thanks to all these heavy thoughts running through my head, I was now wide awake and felt I was due for a good cry. Not wanting to wake Husband, who was sleeping by my side, I returned to the living room. It felt as if I were giving myself permission to break down. I started to sob, but I couldn't produce any tears. I just couldn't bring myself to cry.

I was up early the next morning to make my way to the pool for our first meet of the season. As we were waiting for the warm-up pool to open, I overheard two men in their mid-forties talking about their children. I knew that one of these Dads had triplets, but of course, I never wanted to ask any of the nosy questions that we all are thinking. I had been considering sharing some of my experience with infertility and perhaps gain some insight as to how they resulted with triplets. Without needing any prompting, he told his teammate, "We needed a little help and we got a lot of help. There was a 1% risk for triplets and we hit it." Ah, it was probably Clomid... I thought to myself. Not quite the same process as going through IVF and making a decision about the number of embryos to transfer. Maybe our infertility experience wasn't such a common thread. Feeling more alone and sad about our unsuccessful conception to date, I felt the urge to cry. I quickly excused myself and headed to the women's locker room. Locked in the last stall, I leaned against the wall and put my hands over my face. Yet, no tears fell.

After only five weeks of training, I still feel very unfit for competition, but somehow I managed to swim rather fast. I heard my time after my 100 yd Free and asked, "how?" I saw what I had seeded myself for my 100 IM and thought, what the fuck was I thinking? Yet, I managed to beat that time. I'm not too far off from my best times, and with all things considered; I'm really happy with that. As our team gathered at a local microbrewery for a celebratory post meet drink, I spotted a woman with a very small baby at the next table. I guess others noticed the infant as well, as the conversation shifted to Amanda and her pregnancy. I left the table to use the restroom, but I acknowledged that it was more of a reflexive action. Somehow, I had managed to make myself so numb that I just can feel anything any more. Disappointment has become my norm and I just can't cry any more.

As I walked back to my car, I went through my all too familiar routine of embracing all the things I can enjoy in my non-pregnant state. Moments after I turned over the ignition in my car, I noticed that the 'check engine' light was illuminated; and I burst into tears.

15 comments:

  1. Jane, I wish I could be there in person to give you a huge hug. Sometimes I think we're so used to being infertile that the failed cycles don't get us anymore...it's just all of the remaining bullshit that goes wrong that gets us because we have nothing left in us to deal with even more disappointment. Even if it is just a check engine light. I'm so sorry. I wish I could help.

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  3. oh Jane. This just broke my heart. I am so sorry. Thinking lots about you and wishing I could just give you a hug! You are so loved!

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  4. This just sucks! I'm thinking of you Jane.

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  5. Oh Jane...I'm sorry. Funny how you can seem like your holding it under control with the big things and then its that one small thing that cracks everything. I hope the tears help you process...

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  6. I am so sorry. There is something so awful and heartbreaking about living with your heart armored against disappointment - but knowing that the armor is never really strong enough.

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  7. Dammit Jane. I'm so sorry. My heart breaks for you so much. I don't know what to say. Like Aramis, I wish I was there in person to give you a hug and a shoulder to cry on. Thinking of you lots.

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  8. I want to come over and give you a hug. I know the numbness, and the tears. Hoping that they bring some relief for you.

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  9. :( I am so sorry. Keeping you in my thoughts.

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  10. Yup. Did this about a year ago. We had a perfect cycle that I was sure was going to be a viable pregnancy. And then I started my period. I expected to cry, but was numb instead. My husband found me in the living room later that night sobbing because my fantasy football team lost. It all just sucks so much sometimes.

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  11. I am so sorry. I will be thinking about you.

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  12. i'm sorry this is such a hard time for you... it's so disappointing when you get a negative... sending you lots of hugs!

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  13. This definitely sounds like something I would do - be unable to tear up at the big thing, and then lose it over something minor. I think we steel ourselves up to some extent, but our emotions are always just beneath the surface.

    I'm really sorry, and you're in my thoughts.

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  14. I had been trying to make myself cry for days because I could feel surges of pent up emotion. I finally cried in spinning class when the instructor told me I was pedaling too slow. You never know what will be the tipping point. You are so brave, Jane. I have been thinking about you. When are you going turn this blog into a book?? You always articulate the things that are so relatable on this journey, which people outside of IF don't understand. I am so grateful for your words because they are so validating and humanizing. I am so sorry for the pain you are in. Sending lots of love.

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