Bitter And Not Really Liking It.

Thank you, all of you out there on the 'Net, for your words of comfort. You get it, and I know that-you don't have to say anything more than "Shit, that sucks. Sorry" and I know that you truly understand. And, a special thanks goes out to Shelli-you're such a wonderful, giving, caring person, and I love you lots. LOTS!

I'm doing okay. I have moments that I'm so fucking angry that I want to scream and throw things (last night I looked at Sean and had the almost irresistable urge to punch him squarely in the face. Obviously I didn't do that, because then I'd be blogging from a prison common area rather than the comfort of my couch), alternating with times of just wanting to either cry, or hide and wait for the world to go away. I just want to wake up and it be nine years earlier, when I was younger, newly married and ignorant to infertility. Maybe if I knew then what I know now, I'd have made different decisions. But, shoulda coulda woulda, right?

Needless to say, it hasn't been fun. I go back to the RE next week to have the WTF conversation, along with a saline sonogram to make sure that everything has passed. We'll just have to wait until then to see what is the next suggestion. I'm thinking that she's going to suggest PGD, but I guess we won't know until Thursday. Unfortunately, since nothing was frozen, we'd have to start from scratch yet again. But, the real question du jour is this: do I want to do another cycle? Right now I can't even contemplate it, but if Dr. Pipsqueak feels strongly about doing another cycle and give me a good enough reason that we should, then maybe. Maybe doing PGD will help-at the least, it will lower the miscarriage rate due to the fact that we'd be transferring embryos that are chromosomally normal (that is, assuming that we'd have enough to transfer-I've learned the hard way that nothing is guaranteed with IVF). I've had every test under the sun to see if there's another underlying problem that's causing both the implantation failure and chemicals, and they've all come back as normal. So, what the fuck is the problem?

To say that Sean and I are both miserable fucks is putting it mildly. This hit us both really hard, especially since it was such a great cycle in the sense that we had great stats with my retrieval/fertilization rates, I didn't over respond, and we had so many blasts. It doesn't help that most people can't really fathom what we're going through, unless they've been through it themselves. And, even then, once they've made it through to the "other side" it's like a distant memory and they can't really relate. I also can't help feeling that every time, EVERY TIME we do this, something fucked up happens and it doesn't work, although it does for someone else. We're pregnancy magnets! Seriously! Unfortunately, the magnet also seems to repel any success for us. I can trace every single one of our friends children, with the exception of one, to a failed IVF or FET cycle, or a miscarriage. That's a lot of babies, people. And, yeah, perhaps it's negative thinking on my part (as was recently suggested to me), but it's also the truth. I'm the only one of my friends (excepting one couple who decided to be childfree) who doesn't have children. Hell, I'm the only one left from my original Fertility Friend group, from my bloglist. I'm the Last Woman Standing, and not by choice. I didn't do it to myself-no amount of negative or positive thinking, acupuncture, herbs, eating right, eliminating caffeine, meditation, tarot readings, praying to Saints, Guardian Angels, God/Allah/Buddha/The Flying Spaghetti Monster
has made this work for us. Oh, I guess statistically, it DID work, twice-it just didn't stick around long enough to grow into a baby who would later ask mommy to buy eyeliner and ask for the car keys. And I do realize that it's farther than some people have gotten in their reproductive treatment. But, dammit, I want it to be MY turn. Not my brother's, not my friend's or even the woman who's been sitting next to me for two weeks in the clinic waiting room. Yes, it's selfish and immature, but I think that I'm allowed to be bitter and angry and selfish and immature-sounding about it. I've been doing this long enough to be entitled to my feelings.

My feelings are really the only tangible thing that I have right now.