It’s been two months and 11 days since my last negative pregnancy test. It was my final attempt at pregnancy with the fertility center I’d been with for nearly two years, because I was moving the week after I got my results. It was also our last chance to conceive with the donor sperm that got me pregnant with our twins — whom we lost during my 2nd-trimester miscarriage.
I came to love this fertility center and the amazing staff. And I know they did everything they possibly could. To say I was disappointed when I learned that I — once again — was not pregnant, is an understatement.
But my disappointment was quickly replaced with a huge sense of being overwhelmed.
We were back to Square One.
After almost two years of trying, after numerous IVF cycles; FET cycles; an IUI; countless injections; bruises; pills; vaginal suppositories; hormone side effects that included hot flashes, weight gain, headaches, dizziness, cramping, outrageous mood swings, fatigue, loss of appetite, increase in appetite, sleeplessness; too many transvaginal ultrasounds to recall; five — maybe 6 (who can remember?) — negative pregnancy tests, a miscarriage at 17 weeks pregnant and the horror that came with that, and a medical bill of nearly $40,000, I was walking away without a baby. Without sperm. And without a plan.
It’s been almost two and a half months since that last pregnancy test. Since our plan was forced to change. At first, I thought we’d find a doctor in Boston. We’d buy more donor sperm from a cryobank there. I’d settle in to my new job, and begin again with the appointments, the blood work, the transvaginal ultrasounds, the injections, hormones, blah. Blah. Blah.
But that’s not what we’re going to do.
Read more HERE.