Good-bye, little ones

The IVF rollercoaster is over. The outcome wasn’t the one I had hoped and even prayed for (though that hasn’t had any impact whatsoever during this entire shit of a ride through infertility).

Here is what happened:
Due to my history of endometriomas and ovarian surgeries, I was put on the “lupron flare protocol”. I guess, I was at risk of being a “poor responder” to the meds. I didn’t prove them wrong. Despite the fact that my estrodial climbed up to 1410 (which was right where they wanted it to be) and we could see about 12 follicles growing (though some were admittingly smallish), in the end only 4 eggs were harvested. As far as I remember, the doctor mumbled something about empty follicles and the endometrioma being in the way (just the day earlier, a different RE seemed happy though about the way the follicles distributed themselves AROUND the endometrioma). You see, most of the 12 follicles were growing on my right ovary, the one handicapped by a current "big" endometrioma. My left ovary that has already had been through surgery wasn’t willing to spit out more than 2 follicles. But regardless, I still blame the RE for doing a poor retrieval job.

Of the 4 eggs, only two fertilized (some mumble jumble about being immature). Now, those of you who have been through IVF can probably understand what a nervous rack I was from that point on. I am not kidding when I say that I will be forever grateful that I made it to our 3day-transfer. Luckily, I did and one beautiful 10 cell and one beautiful 8 cell cupcake came back to me. I wasn’t told anything about their quality other that they looked “great.”

I did reasonably well during the first couple of days after transfer. I stayed mostly calm, and get this, for the very first time I had a “strong” reproductive pulse according to my accupuncturist. I felt optimistic.

But then I lost it. Mentally and physically. I had prepared myself for the likelihood that I would feel many pregnancy symptoms due to the progesterone suppositories. At least, that’s what I had learned from other infertility blogs. However, I had not prepared myself for feeling nothing or even losing symptoms. I just didn’t think that was possible given the continuous flow of hormones. How wrong I was. It may sound silly to many (though probably not to the IVF initiated ones), but the fact that my breasts suddenly stopped hurting after one week threw me totally off. The ironic thing is that just one day earlier I was thinking “at least, I won’t have to worry over boob pain, even if it is just caused by the progesterone supplements.” I assume the heavens had a good laugh about me, yet again.

I didn’t go into the beta draw with a lot of confidence. Of course, I still had that little bit of hope against all odds that, maybe, maybe I was just one of the lucky freaks. You know them. They are 16 weeks pregnant with no symptoms whatsoever (e.g. no breast pain) and find out by surprise they are pregnant. But then I saw the spotting. Rosy. Just like pre-period. Hope wasn’t even trying to pretend anymore that it was my friend. And the heavens were laughing even louder. The dreaded beta then confirmed what I had suspected: negative. Over and out.

Today I am incredibly sad. Sad that the two lives that we started with great effort weren’t given the opportunity to grow and prosper. Sad that we won’t be adding any new sibling to the family anytime soon, if ever. Sad that I didn’t get a break from infertility hell.

I will, however, always be very grateful that the little cupcakes were able to make it home to me and didn’t have to perish in their Petri dish. And in some strange way, it gives me some comfort to know that they weren’t alone on their brief journey towards life. Farewell, little ones.

I am now waiting for the most expensive and saddest period of my life.