I was ready to vomit in the parking lot of the hospital Friday. My nerves were getting the best of me when we were merely there for a last appointment with my OB/GYN. As my Husband reminded me, what could she possibly say that was worse than what we had already been through? True, just the thought of walking in there was making me crazy though. I clung to his hand the whole way in, fighting back tears, the recent memories flooding my brain.
The doc declared me back to “normal” down south. I was free to go back to sex and working out, two of my favorite things, after wine of course. We went back over the conversation of the chromosomal testing, that we had two days prior. I fought back more tears. It seemed so technical at this point. She asked if we wanted a form of birth control, wanted to go right back to trying or were we just going to be careful? I laughed. We aren’t the couple that CAN get accidentally pregnant. I mean, we could, if the stars were fucking aligned all wonky. (It’s a word, I swear.) We explained where we felt like we were at, well more me, than my Husband. Not that his feelings don’t count but I’m the one that is a hormonal mess right now. We feel like we have had enough for one year so we are just going to take the baby topic off the table till after the Holidays. If we feel ready at that time then she said we just call back up the fertility specialist and start all over.
All over. From the beginning.
That was enough for one appointment for me.
The doctor left and we sat in the exam room in silence. That was it. It was over.
I held back more tears as we walked out of the hospital. We walked by happy pregnant women, people carrying their babies, one couple complaining how they only got three ultrasound pictures -the horror.
22 months of trying, all the fertility appointments, tracking, tears, joy of a positive pregnancy test, wishing, praying, hope, miscarriage, surgery, and everything in between, we walked away with absolutely nothing. I felt so empty and it all felt so final. I have nothing tangible. Only the nightmares and separation anxiety that follow me around.
It is a strange journey to be on. We may not look like parents but somewhere we have a little girl, that for a moment, was truly with us. We may not have anything to show for her but three ultrasound pictures and some outfits we couldn’t help but buy, but she has changed us. My file may be closed at the doctors office for now and everyone else has moved on from it but us and that is okay. It takes time.
I went back to yoga and I think I took my first deep breaths in weeks. I cleared my head and there were times I thought the emotions were going to take over but I was able to get control again. I was able to move in my body for the first time in weeks and feel comfortable, know where I was going, sink into a safe place. It felt good. Slowly there are more good days gained.