I am not pregnant.
Our IVF has failed.
There is nothing to show for the past 2 and a half months of trauma that we have been through.
Nothing except loads of empty syringes; empty pill packets; a scan of an embryo inside me; bruises still lingering from injections; a heavy and painful period; a heart full of aching, longing and loss; and an empty womb.
It was the early morning hours of Saturday 14th November 2020. It was our official test day and we had been waiting for this day for what seemed like an eternity.
For a few days before I had been getting what felt like my usual pre-period cramping. The only hope I had left was the my normal old-blood/spotting didn’t happen (sorry, TMI!). It always happens but because it didn’t happen, I allowed myself to have some hope that maybe, just maybe, our cycle had worked and against all odds, our low-grade embryo baby had snuggled in. But deep down, I think I knew it had failed.
But I kept hoping.
We woke up early and I went to the bathroom and took 3 different brand tests. We put a timer on so that we knew when to look at it.
We sat in bed together and prayed. I think we both knew but we so desperately hoped that we were wrong. There are no words that explain how you feel and what you think during the last few moments before looking at your test after an IVF cycle. Fear, worry, heartbreak, longing, desperation, hope…
The timer went off and we turned it over.
1 pink line.
Not even the smallest, faintest line to show that our embaby had even been there. No trace of them whatsoever.
It’s fair to say that in that moment our hearts completely shattered. All over again.
We sobbed and we just sat in silence for ages. What are you supposed to say to each other? How do you console each other when your heart is as broken as theirs? And at what point do you get up and carry on with your day as though nothing is wrong? Is it bad to already be thinking about our next round already? But what about our babies* who didn’t make it?
*I say babies because to me that is what they were. Those embryos are the closest we have ever been to holding our own baby in our arms. They were loved by us and we will never forget that they existed. Those little bunches of cells held our DNA and had their own gender. They were growing and changing. We can’t simply forget them. And I can’t bring myself to call them anything other than our babies.
There really are no words to express the sadness that we are feeling and the confusion too.
We will be OK and our lives will continue. But for now we are taking each day as it comes, allowing ourselves to grieve and process what has happened. One day at a time.
And one day, we will hold our own children in our arms. We don’t know how they will come to be with us, but they will. We still hold onto the hope that we have in our God.
Journeying to Family 