...aaaaand scene!

So I’m not pregnant.  A blood test confirmed it this morning.  Thank God the clinic called exactly at 9 AM and didn’t make me wait all day like they did for the progesterone results.  All the day before I imagined the lady’s voice saying, “congratulations!!”  But no.  It was “your beta results show you’re not pregnant.”  The night before I broke down and took the second early pregnancy test just so I’d be better prepared for the news this morning, which of course was negative.  This didn’t keep me from waking up at 4 am and staying awake racked with anxiety until the phone rang, and then crying on the phone to my sister for an hour and a half after.  Sigh.

I have to say I really hate all this.  I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect this – I didn’t expect that it would be such an emotional roller coaster, that it would bring out all my demons, that it would make me feel infinitely worse than I felt watching all my friends get married and have babies.  I’m kind of longing for those simple days when I still thought I might meet someone and we would have kids, that he was just around the corner.  This whole TTC as a single older woman thing is just pure torture.

The worst part is this isn’t even the worst part – I’ve barely begun this process compared to what most women have been through (well, the ones who have blogs anyway), I’ve just had one failed IUI, am I even allowed to be upset at this point?  Shouldn’t I just be putting on my big girl pants and getting over it and marching on to IUI #2?  Should I be feeling such a sense of misery and doom when nothing really bad has even happened yet?  But then again I know this is just my mother talking.  Of course I’m allowed to be upset.  I could be pregnant right now, but instead I’m not.  I’m allowed to shed a few tears over this.

When I was getting my blood test I talked the ear off of X (ultrasound lady, who pretty much is the only person I deal with now), as I’ve learned to ask all the questions & advice I possibly can when I’m in the office.  She told me some interesting things.  First I asked about the timing, did she think it was possible I could have ovulated Monday and not Saturday?  She said no, based on the follicle activity she saw and the cervix position on Saturday that it really doesn’t sound right to her; she thinks we nailed it.  Then I asked what women do when repeated IUI’s fail, and she reminded me of their policy that they don’t advise doing more than three without getting outside help, and said she works with an RE that has been very helpful (not the one I was going to see, and luckily one I’ve heard of and he offers free consultations).  She said before jumping to IVF they often recommend doing injectables for a cycle which would run $500 - $1000 depending, which has good results.  She also told me the shocking fact that women in their late 30s typically only release 4 good eggs a year.  A YEAR!  This means I could try EIGHT times and never get a positive result.  Ugh!  That number is ringing in my brain right now.  After all, if we got the timing right, this means the reason for failure is a non-viable egg.  What if all my eggs are non-viable???  So that’s where the injectables come in – you release more eggs and up your chances of one of them being viable.  I don’t know.  The whole thing sounds exhausting and expensive.

Anyway, the plan for now is to proceed with IUI #2 in two weeks and suffer another agonizing two week wait, which brings us to Memorial Day.  I would like to have my Day 3 labs run, but I might be out of town (again) and may miss the window.  But it would be good to have that information (FSH & Estriodol) – after all, if it turns out I have horrible egg quality/reserve (can’t imagine why at only 38, but who the hell knows) then at least I’ll know to STOP the IUIs right away before wasting any more money.  I think if #2 fails I will go see this guy.  At least the consultation is free; maybe we can try Clomid or something cheap first.  I may have to draw the line at injectables, I’ll be honest.  But I’m just going to take it one step at a time.

I broke down telling my sister today that to me life without children is pretty meaningless.  The idea of going through all this, and a lot more, just to get nothing at the end of it, disturbs me so much I can hardly stand the thought of it; it makes me want to drive off a cliff.  There have to be children in my life.  There just have to be.

However, there is always adoption, which is looking a lot more appealing to me right now.  The best part is there’s no time limit (well, there sort of is, but it doesn’t have to happen in the next year or two, unlike pregnancy).  I know for sure I would love an adopted kid as much as my own.  I know some women don’t feel that way, and I respect that.  But due to a variety of circumstances in my family life – largely, that some of my biological relatives (parents) turned out to be total duds, whereas the people not blood related to me at all are amazing with me and love me like their own – makes me feel with certainty that an adopted kid would be MY kid, absolutely.  My biggest concern about adoption is just being accepted by the agencies as a single woman, the home study, the wait, the disappointments, and the money.  But since I’m not insistent on a healthy white baby I sure am glad parenthood is an absolute guarantee for me, one way or the other.  This gives me some comfort.

So there’s no reason to give up hope – after all, it’s extremely rare to have just one IUI and it all works out.  I know this.  And maybe it’s just the progesterone suppositories talking, but right now I’m drained and scared about money and just feel like chucking the whole damned thing and taking that Friendly Planet tour to Madagascar instead.

PS – I want to thank the nice ladies who nominated my blog, I’m touched and flattered.  I intend to follow up with you on this but I’ve just been too freaked out the last few days to do much of anything.  I’m sure you’ll understand ;-)