Wednesday
- 2pm: I see a commercial for tacos and feel as though I may barf
- 3pm: I receive a returned call from a clinic regarding costs of FET
- 3:40pm: My mind tries to tell my body that I am still pregnant
- 4:45pm: I am now convinced that I am going to have a baby. I take a digital pregnancy test in the hopes that it will be some sort of concrete proof that the beta was wrong.
- 4:48pm: Digital test says pregnant, but I immediately realize that I am a stupid idiot for taking it and letting my stupid emotions overrule what I rationally know.
- 5pm: Get GM changed for bed, help her take her evening meds, assist her in the bathroom, and then tuck her into bed.
- 5:45pm: Look at digital test some more. Send e-mails. Pour glass of wine.
- 6pm: E-mail Mother at work and tell her about digital test. We decide that if I still have not bled by the weekend that I should get another beta. Hope creeps in.
- 6:30pm: Mother arrives home and I show her the test. She plays it cool. We eat leftovers and watch Entertainment tonight.
- 9:20pm: I pour another glass of wine as it begins to sink in that a digital test does not a baby make. Feelings of lameness sink in.
- 9:40pm: The wine lulls me to sleep on the couch and I eventually pry myself up and go to bed.
Thursday
- 2:20am: I wake up with a massive need to pee. In my sleep walking I recall feeling some sort of smug glee within the need.
- 4:00am: Wake up feeling like a rusted out screwdriver is being repeatedly stabbed into my abdomen. Feel almost paralyzed by pain. Feel pain in terms never felt before. Feel as if I am about to die.
- 4:07am: Look over at side table and note the time. Manage to turn bedside lamp on. Pull back covers and see that I am in a puddle of blood.
- 4:09am: Still in a painful gaze with the blood. Disbelief and pain.
- 4:11am: Manage to make it to the bathroom and try to clean myself up. Feel gross and disgusting and messy and stupid and HURT.
- 4:20am: Crawl downstairs and find bottle of oxycontin left over from my retrieval. Take two white pills.
- 4:40am: Strip sheets, change sanitary super tampon and maxi-pad, curl up within comforter and find zero comfort.
- 6:20am: Wake up still in deep, low pain. Change blood catching apparatuses. Watch comedy central. Feel empty. Feel numb.
- 7:00am: Call Ms. D and cancel today’s respite service. Begin to cry when she asks if I am ok.
- 7:15am: Want to wake Mother up but remember stupid moment involving digital test and feel too ashamed.
- 7:20am: Change apparatuses yet again. Stare at things that have come out of me. Feel guilty about flushing.
- 7:30am: Decide to set up camp in den. Catch site of digital test and begin to cry when I notice that the word “pregnant” is still visible on the screen.
{ 66 comments… read them below or add one }
I love you. I hate this. Wish I was there. I think if you haven’t already I hope you reached out to your mom. Until then: (((((((Cali)))))))
PS Read my recent post? I’ve lost my mind.
Christ. I am so sorry. And you’re not alone in taking a test. Really. It’s so very hard not to look for reasons to hope.
If I may insert something practical, without seeming unfeeling? No tampons. At least, I’ve always been advised not to use them at this time.
Hi, I found your blog today via Thalia. I just want to say that I am so sorry for the pain you are suffering.
Sending you virtual hugs from England.
Kaje
Oh, fuck, Cali. All our love is with you.
I’m so sorry Cali. No other words can explain or help but know my thoughts are with you.
I am so sorry. Even though I know this may not help, you are not lame or stupid and have no reason to feel ashamed. You are human and wanted what we all want. I had those same hopes and dreams that still managed to slip in even after I bled because my lame beta doubled afterwards. My heart hurts for you right now.
(I cringe as I write these. I feel heartless for even saying it, but I care.) On a technical note, my docs told me no tampons, too.
I’m so sorry, sweetheart.
I am so sorry. Words just don’t cut it, but my heart’s huring for you.
I hate this for you. I was hesitant to comment much on the ramp up to your transfer b/c I was afraid of jinxing you with negativity from my own IVF (17 embryos fertilized. 17 embryos bit the dust on Day 2. I screamed for an hour straight after the call). I don’t know about you, but I tend to view a lot of the successes I see around me in the blogosphere as an indictment of my own crappy eggs– further evidence of my reproductive inferiority. Bleeding after IVF sent me down to the pit of hell, and you’ve had to do it twice now. Lay in bed for a day. Drink whatever you want. Call respite care to come help you with GM. Call your friends. Lay your head in your mom’s lap and cry. The ache does start to dull eventually, but I think it’s important not to deny yourself this time to feel your misery. Hugs. Wish I was there to drink with you and watch reruns of bad 80s sitcoms on TV.
Oh Christ what a nightmare. The one thing I can say is this: As shitty and awful and cruel as this all is, it is now starting to move behind you. Which is not to say anything in terms of grieving or being sad or devastated, but those days or weeks when you KNOW you are going to miscarry and you are still pregnant SUCK like nothing else. This helps you turn a corner. I think about you all the time and wish there were something I could say or do to ease this pain. I hope you take comfort in knowing so many people are here for you to help you. You are not alone. And when you have god news to share again, we will be there then too. And there WILL be good news to share.
Jesus. Of course I emailed you before I read this. What can I do? Is there anything I can do? I will crawl into bed with you so you can have a good cry and you can even blow your nose on my sleeve and get snot everywhere, I don’t care.
So sorry.
Just heart-breaking. Sending so much love your way.
SOrry isn’t good enough… but it is all I have. I understand your pain and hate that you have to go through this. Not fair.
((HUGS))
T
Much love and many, many hugs. I hope you’ll do whatever is necessary to get through this.
xoxo
so so sorry you’re going through this. lots of love your way. my thoughts are with you. please take good care of yourself and do whatever you need to make yourself feel a little better when you can. ~luna
Oh Cali the honesty of your writing is both beautiful and heartbreaking. I am so sorry. Thinking and thinking and thinking of you.
Oh sweet Cali, I am so gutted for you. Please take good care of you as wel all love you so much.
Sweetheart, I’m so sad that you are in this much pain. Words aren’t going to make it better, but please know that we’re thinking of you. There is a lot of love coming from Iowa and other places right now, wanting to envelop and wrap you up and hold you close. You are loved, my sweet sister.
ohh calli love…. hugs you tightly…
I wish there were words that made a difference.
So incredibly sorry.. sending you so many hugs…
So sorry for the endless pain you have to endure.
ouch, indeed.
fuck.
i’m so sorry this horrible day is here. so, so sorry. love you.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
Oh gosh Cali… I am very sorry. I wish I was there to give you a hug. A real hug.
I’m so sorry.
when i was sad or upset and away from college, and even when i was home and i didnt get a lot of in-person time with my dad, when we would talk on the phone [and when i say talk, i mean i was sobbing on the phone and he was listening and telling me it would all be ok] he often ended our calls telling me he was sending me an electronic hug. they arent the same as in-person, but they hold just as much love from the one sending them.
((((( . .-.. . -.-. – .-. — -. .. -.-. / …. ..- –. )))))
(yes, that ~is~ “electronic hug” spelled out in morse code)
love you,
gypsy
I’ve been there. I’m so sorry sweetheart.
xx
I’m so sorry, my love.
I so sorry… I wish I could make you feel you better. HUGS
I am so sorry sweetie. This sucks so badly. Wish we could share the next bottle of wine together. Hugging you.
I am so sorry for your loss. Hugs. I have now had two miscarriages myself, one just last week. Please email me if you ever want to chat.
I’m so terribly sorry.
This is all so ubelievably unfair. I hate it so much. Hugs to you.
We raised enough money for the first try…..we can do it again for an FET. Let us know and we’ll be there for you with open wallets.
I’m a regular reader and an infrequent, if not totally absent commentor. I thought I’d peer out of the silence to tell you how very sorry I am, though I know they’re just words that are hardly comforting in a time lie this.
I’m sorry.
Sorry doesn’t even cover it. Take care.
Ditto above comment. BIG HUGS : (((((( xxxx
Oh honey, I’m so so sorry. I wish I had something eloquent and helpful to say, but all I can think is fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. And you’re not an idiot for the testing and the hope. Even after our dead baby ultrasound my brain kept trying to fix it and convince me that maybe if they did another scan it would show something else. Even though I knew there was no way. I think it’s a pretty normal thing. Sending huge hugs.
I’m so sorry.
Oh, Cali. Oh, hon. Big hugs to you. My heart is aching for you.
Oh fuck. So so sorry Cali.
Everyone has already said sorry..all I have to add is “this sucks, sucks, sucks, really sucks.”
I’m so, so sorry. Lots of love your way.
Hey, babe. I wish I could fix it. I’m holding you close in my heart.
Cali, I just hugged my computer screen and hope you feel the love from all of us during this nightmare. I’m just so so sorry. ox
It just keeps on hitting you with awfulness, doesn’t it? I’m so sorry sweetie. I hope your mum is able to look after you a bit.
i am SO sorry it had to wind up this way. It does always seem to happen right when you begin teasing yourself with the maybes, doesn’t it?
*hugging you from afar*
I am so sorry that you are in such pain.
I wish that there were words to make the pain go away. May you find a bit of comfort somewhere during this hard time.
So so sorry about this. It just sucks so much.
I am so sorry that you have to go through this. I wish there was some way to make it better. or easier.
Sending you lots of snuggles and an equal amount of wine. I’m so sorry.
oh Cali I’m so so sorry. There is no pain quite like it. I’m also sorry that any hopefullness in my last comment was indeed false hope.
Shitshitshit ughhhh… this just sucks
I’m so, so very sorry. There is no pain like this. You are in my thoughts. Please take care of yourself.
I’m so sorry.
- Angela
Oh my goddess, what a horrible thing you are living through right now. ((hugs)) Please just remember that you will live through it and although it absolutely sucks donkey balls it will eventually get better.
G-d, I’m sorry Calliope. SO sorry,
xx
Jo
Sweets, I just wanted to send a note to let you know that although I’m not commenting much anymore, I’m still here with you in this. This is so heartbreaking. I’m so sorry this shitty stuff is happening to you. All my love, katie
I just recently started reading your blog and thought I would De-lurk just to say that I am so very sorry. Doesn’t help much does it?
When I lost the boys, people would tell me how sorry they were and I just felt hollow. When people told me I was “young and could try again”, “it was all for the best”, “it’s God’s will”, or “at least you were only 3 months along”, I felt rage.
When I read your story, it reminded me of my own experience, probably because it was EXACTLY the same.
I thought I would never recover, never know joy again. When my mother and stepfather were killed in the accident, I felt the same way. I was also appalled that I could be in such pain and not die.
When people told me “time heals all wounds” I wanted to scream “shut the fuck up you idiot!” but in time, they were right.
I have 2 beautiful girls now and I hope that this last attempt worked since it is our last try for another child. I know it is a long shot, but I can still hope.
Years of infertility, endless testing, several miscarriages, numerous procedures, immeasurable tragic losses in my family….I am still here and I still have joy in my life.
Am I the same? no
Once you’ve worked for years of anger, shame and heartbreak to get pregnant, you are never the same.
Once you have laid in your own blood, you are never the same.
Once the world, as you know, it is destroyed forever by one brief phone call, you are never the same.
You are never the same, but you ARE alive and where there is life there is hope. I thought I would never be a mother, but I was wrong.
Since your journey to motherhood has been similar to mine so far, I hope it will also have the same end results—2 children that you adore and the hope for just one more.
Good luck and you are in my thoughts and prayers.
Hope is cruel bitch.
I’m so sorry.
Nothing to say except how sorry I am. These things shouldn’t happen. I’ll never understand why they do.
Hugs. Just hugs.
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