Negative. #4 down, not counting the first month after the D&C when we didn't use an OPK, not counting the month we did use an OPK and I didn't ovulate, not counting the month we didn't try at all. We still have two more tries before it's time to call for a diagnosis of infertility and maybe get drugs.
I had hope this time, I'll be honest. Maybe I should have been going to acupuncture. Maybe I'm still not deserving, too many work things unfinished, too many relationships unresolved. MFP has his own list of what he thinks he's doing wrong.
Empty. Not like, mental health empty; post-miscarriages empty, nothing really powerfully joyful to hope for, just a long held dream dying away slowly. I will still be empty, barren, for another whole month. Due date for pregnancy #2 is about to come and go. Since miscarriage #2 and the re traumatizing D&C, we will have seen two once hoped for due dates pass. Unbelievable, the cruelty of this. The cruelty. How little we get, considering how much love we have to give. Despondent. That's how I feel. Maybe this is another step in our journey to become adoptive parents. I suppose we could give up trying now and just focus on that; ethically it feels better anyway. I have always wanted to experience pregnancy and birth. I guess some women just don't get to do that. If only, my dearly beloved child I twice thought I could hope for, if only that wasn't me.
"Are you still trying?" Do me a favor and never ask anyone that. I'm going to let myself do nothing today. I'm in despair. I'm sure my friends are tired of my unvarying monthly dirge. I may not even say anything. I don't even give a shit about healthy ways of coping. I am going to do whatever I want as long as it involved taking another step into this reality of grief I so desperately didn't want to happen.
Maybe the progesterone is interfering? I'm taking it as instructed. For anyone curious, I take it on the fourth night after the OPK says I'm ovulating, then take it for 14 days, then take a pregnancy test, then stop and my period comes shortly after that. I have 30+ day failed cycles because of it. Now I get to stop for this month. Grueling. One thing I like about getting my period is at least it's day one of a new chance. But this progesterone regimen sucks--now I have to have days of limbo while I wait for day one. And then we have another sex marathon in which we try to forget about all the grief and despair and desperation we feel, for seven days in a row while we see the flashing or non flashing smiley. And I have to test my fucking pee every morning. And chart temps on my app. And watch the neighbors enjoy their children. And pass pregnant women EVERYWHERE. And field stupid questions like are you trying. And hand out with people who make clear it is never OK to talk about the miscarriage griefs or infertility. And talk about other bad experiences in therapy but not much at all about this, like it's not important. And talk about dumb fucking shit with friends, as though this lack isn't the biggest thing happening in my life. And wonder why it was so easy for my cold, abusive parents. And decide not to go back to the pregnancy loss group because no one else even bothered to show up last time and anyway my loss looks like infertility now.
I feel sad. Angry. Helpless. And in despair. Ashamed of myself. Hopeless. Grieving for what I so fleetingly once had: hope. No, had twice.
A woman I know died recently whose whole life had been work. She had a partner, but everything was about work, which she wanted to focus on till the end. Is that going to be me? Is that all I have? What did I do, what did I do, to not deserve this basic and simple thing of motherhood? I once said to someone that I wanted to have it all--not give up career ambitions; have a family too. I was 22. She made different choices. What Schadenfreude she'd feel now.
We're going to be okay. We're going to get through this. I have a volunteer shift later today that's meaningful to me. At least I do that with my life, in addition to my job. What a sad, small, bitter life I lead.
I know I have a lot. I just don't want to give much of a shit about it today.
*****
A bit later. Today is the first day I've seriously considered giving up and turning seriously to adoption. There's a line in "While We're Young" when Naomi Watts says, about having kids after multiple miscarriages and fertility treatments, "this is closed for business!" Gesturing down at her body. At least deciding to stop trying is something that is in our control.
There was a moment by the pond in the park, listening to the sound of a fountain, with our dog calmly sitting with me watching the ducks, that was so peaceful. My life, one day at a time, is good. I just can't think about the future, or about two years of wasted effort.
Be forewarned, though: if you are a pregnant woman I may not be able to keep myself from scowling at you. Please forgive me. Maybe one day I won't wince with pain when you walk by.
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