I've been feeling incredibly down for the last few days. I've been testing every morning over the weekend, and the test line was getting paler and paler - until, on Monday, it wasn't visible anymore. I went for betas and spent an hour in a crowded lab waiting for my turn, thinking that I really didn't need to be there, since I already knew the answer. I haven't had breakfast, and might have been looking so miserable, that the technician offered me juice. This never ever happened before. Then she took a needle out too early and had to reinsert it, and I couldn't contain my tears.
The result was 2. My bitch RE didn't even say "I am sorry" (my OB/GYN, on the other hand, emailed me specifically to offer her sympathy). The other Dr. was uncharacteristically grim when I emailed him the news, and suggested we come and see him "sometime". His stupid office scheduled this "sometime" for August, and marked it as a "new infertility appointment". I am going to call to yell at them one of these days.
So, here's what I am dealing with now:
- I am feeling hopeless and helpless and desperate, because, once again, my chance to have a second child has evaporated. The bleeding came on Wednesday, and brought a new wave of grief and frustration.
- I am feeling sad re: death of my MIL, and having thoughts about the inevitability of this horrible end for people I love... everyone of us was someone's beloved baby, kissed and caressed and carried in arms, being read to and cooked for, and then fast forward - and there's no one to do this anymore; and then, this horror, and pain, and suffering, and then a cremation and a void.
- I am feeling alternately the immense comfort of my parents being here with me during this difficult time, and the poignancy of them getting older, frailer, and sadder. I am feeling guilty for not being able to cheer them up, and my heart breaks when I think that they would be leaving soon, and I don't know when I am going to see them again.
- My husband would be out of town for another week, and I miss him. Part of this time we would be alone with a kid, and this is going to be the hardest time - with all my grief and all bottled up tears.
- I am feeling like time just seeps through; my kid is having a graduation party this week, and this wonderfully safe cocoon her preschool provided would not be available anymore. With everything we've been going through the last two years she attended this place, it slowly became, in my mind, the embodiment of safety, the only constant place in her life. More constant than even her home, and safe from its pervasive sadness.
- I am feeling a horrible anxiety due to some health concerns; in the next couple of weeks I will have to face them and schedule some appointments. I am just so scared. I think somewhere in my heart of hearts I have this crazy idea that being pregnant is a miracle shield that keeps all the health issues at bay. I know it's not the case, of course, I am not stupid. It's just that I don't want to be thinking about tests and doctors if they are not related to be being pregnant - but I have to, and this makes me cry.
...And then I was folding the small girl clothes, new with tags, that someone in our household didn't get around to wearing. I was folding them to send to her younger cousin, and my heart was breaking again. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.
The result was 2. My bitch RE didn't even say "I am sorry" (my OB/GYN, on the other hand, emailed me specifically to offer her sympathy). The other Dr. was uncharacteristically grim when I emailed him the news, and suggested we come and see him "sometime". His stupid office scheduled this "sometime" for August, and marked it as a "new infertility appointment". I am going to call to yell at them one of these days.
So, here's what I am dealing with now:
- I am feeling hopeless and helpless and desperate, because, once again, my chance to have a second child has evaporated. The bleeding came on Wednesday, and brought a new wave of grief and frustration.
- I am feeling sad re: death of my MIL, and having thoughts about the inevitability of this horrible end for people I love... everyone of us was someone's beloved baby, kissed and caressed and carried in arms, being read to and cooked for, and then fast forward - and there's no one to do this anymore; and then, this horror, and pain, and suffering, and then a cremation and a void.
- I am feeling alternately the immense comfort of my parents being here with me during this difficult time, and the poignancy of them getting older, frailer, and sadder. I am feeling guilty for not being able to cheer them up, and my heart breaks when I think that they would be leaving soon, and I don't know when I am going to see them again.
- My husband would be out of town for another week, and I miss him. Part of this time we would be alone with a kid, and this is going to be the hardest time - with all my grief and all bottled up tears.
- I am feeling like time just seeps through; my kid is having a graduation party this week, and this wonderfully safe cocoon her preschool provided would not be available anymore. With everything we've been going through the last two years she attended this place, it slowly became, in my mind, the embodiment of safety, the only constant place in her life. More constant than even her home, and safe from its pervasive sadness.
- I am feeling a horrible anxiety due to some health concerns; in the next couple of weeks I will have to face them and schedule some appointments. I am just so scared. I think somewhere in my heart of hearts I have this crazy idea that being pregnant is a miracle shield that keeps all the health issues at bay. I know it's not the case, of course, I am not stupid. It's just that I don't want to be thinking about tests and doctors if they are not related to be being pregnant - but I have to, and this makes me cry.
...And then I was folding the small girl clothes, new with tags, that someone in our household didn't get around to wearing. I was folding them to send to her younger cousin, and my heart was breaking again. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.
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