June 2, 2001
I'm so sorry, said Dr. B. So very sorry. Small words carrying heavy weight. We can try again, when you are ready, he said. Ready? If that was all it took, I would have been pregnant months and months ago. After I hung up the phone I sat still, unable to move. Then I got up and looked in the extra bedroom. The extra bedroom, perfect for a nursery, in the house we had bought to have a family in. It stood empty, mocking me. As if an automaton, I picked up the phone and called E. And sobbed. No baby once again. After 5 IUIs, 3 fresh cycle IVFs and 2 frozen, it was over. Although I had told E that I wasn't sure I could stop, now I knew that I could. That I had to find some peace. That I couldn't continue to put myself through a procedure that in the end, made me feel like a guinea pig and as far from being a mother as I could possibly feel. Time to regroup. Time to just stop thinking and breathing and living wanting to get pregnant. Like every single one of our precious, fragile embryos I was fragmented, cracked, and my hope had withered. Gone.
We both needed time to heal. I knew that E was in pain and I couldn't comfort him. There was nothing in me left. It was time to start living again. To rejoice in what we had. Yet, all I could focus on was what we didn't have.
To be continued...