11/5/2018-11/16/2018

Today, I painted my nails. I had a glass (or two) of wine. I put on perfume. I bought a box of tampons. I put on a swim suit top and sat on the balcony of a condo in Florida. I took a walk on the beach and I had donuts for breakfast AND lunch. All of the things I couldn’t do before today.

Today I also went to a new hospital, registered, dealt with TriCare and had a beta test done. As I thought, that result came back as a BFN (in the IVF world this means Big. Fat. Negative.).

Big. Fat. Negative.

To be honest, I knew that was coming. I started spotting on Friday of last week and began heavy bleeding Saturday and still am. When I got that call from the 301 area code from Bethesda, I knew the news they were going to break to me. The doctors voice on the other end of the line was so very encouraging until it was so not. Even though I know it was coming, I still had a catch in my voice when I told the doctor that I knew it was not good news. Our embaby had likely implanted but had failed to thrive. Even then, I wasn’t surprised. We knew this was a possibility and that fresh transfer were not a successful as frozen cycles. Especially for me, my body has been though so much. With only eight days of stims, I am still confounded that I did not succumb to Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome, but I am grateful for that small allowance. I spent most of Saturday in the car, driving to Florida, holding back tears as I felt my uterus betray me. Of course, as soon as I saw the blood on Friday evening, I told Tim and promptly downed three bottles of water to (of course) pee on a stick. I was grasping at straws hoping this was the fabled “implantation bleeding”. Somehow, I knew it was not and when I saw the digital “NOT PREGNANT” display yelling back at me, it was my first panic. I told Tim immediately and he, very reasonably, admonished me for testing so early. I knew better. Some bleeding is normal. But, as it waxed instead of waned… I knew.

Things I am sad about:

I am sad that we will never meet the outside the womb, flesh and blood embaby we had transferred. I am sad that we will never look into his or hers eyes, comment on their sweet nose or chubby cheeks. I am sad that they never had the chance to grow into more than a few hundred cells and have more time to be loved by his or her parents while they were earthside. I am sad that Tim didn’t have the opportunity to hold my hand or cradle my head as I cried over our huge loss. While it was a choice we knowingly made, it was still hard in reality. I am sad that my body was not ready for our baby to thrive inside. I am sad that we will have to start a portion of this harrowing process again. I am sad that we are one number down. His or her loss os so very great.

Things I am hopeful about:

I am glad that we have more opportunities to grow a baby into life. We have seven whole more chances to bring a baby all the way into life outside of my body. I am happy that we get to continue our journey into parenthood with our beloved Dr. Brezina and that our frosties will be in his care. I am grateful to be recovering from this loss in this beach  paradise. I am glad that my body will have time to recover from the absolute hell it has been through in the last several weeks. I am so thankful for the community that I already know will rally around me yet again in the coming weeks as I cope with this through the holidays. I hope that that same community doesn’t forget that Tim has experienced the same loss, too, and that they rally around him.

As I take a break from editing photos to write this post, know that it has been equally uplifting and heartbreaking to look so closely at your beautiful families. Your families of four, your perfect newborns, your one and only child and your three perfect children that i know i am taking pictures of so their dad, deployed halfway around the world can stay connected.. these have equally made me and broken me. If I took your photos in the last three months, know that I have delivered them with as many tears as I have love,

As my body and mine and Tim’s heart heals (because we have one heart), we will prepare to undergo another transfer a soon as possible. I know we are not ready to talk about it quite yet. I know, because you are the best community I have ever known, that you will want to reach out to me with your love and sorrow. I ask that you give us a little time. I am accepting of all the love but I have more sorrow than I can possibly bear.  Know that I am mourning and that I lament that Tim will not have the same opportunity to do so with his plate full. But, I promised to be real and honest with each of you. It is such a strange place to be. I am equally mournful for our present as I am hopeful for our future.

Today, though, I dedicate to our baby, never born but forever loved and cherish my his or her mom and dad. The first of our eight children, I will never forget all of the things you have taught me. I love you more than I can possibly realize and I always will.

MilliKid #1. 11/5/2018-11/16/2018

Your life was important. You are loved. You are never forgotten.

❤ Your Mom and Dad

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