So today was testing morning….and it’s a big fat negative.
Deep down, I knew our chances were not good with the grade 4 embryos we had, but there’s still a part of you that hopes for a little miracle.
We were away for a few nights in Oxford, which is a BEAUTIFUL city – home to one of the most prestigious universities in England, and very quaint with cobbled streets, gorgeous old buildings, independent shops and cafes. But the entire break was dominated by thoughts of the 2WW coming to a close. Up until this point, I had been at work, and not had time to dwell on it. There are some advantages to having a life that is work-eat-sleep-repeat.
In an attempt to “wind down”, we had sex (which incidentally, was great – not in accordance with calendars/charts, or forcing it when we’re both completely shattered after long hours at work, or worrying that too much lube would be detrimental to the little swimmers, but because we wanted to!). If you remember from my previous posts, I was quite unwell around the time of my transfer, and then returned to the shift work, so we’d not been abstaining because anybody had told us to, but because the opportunity hadn’t arisen. There’s some VERY conflicting advice about sex (post-transfer) online – mainly due to the lack of any robust evidence around the area. Some clinics insist on complete abstinence and not even some “self-induced” pleasure in case an orgasm is detrimental to the implantation process. Others say sex as normal, because out-of-context of fertility treatment, who abstains during in the last 2 weeks of their cycle?!
However, I started spotting with streaks of blood shortly afterwards. Not sure if it was some local trauma from the pessaries, or a bit of cervical trauma, or if it was heralding the start of a failed cycle.
The testing was traumatic, to say the least. It was the first time I have ever known that there was a real chance. I actually felt sick to my stomach – worse than when I sat my final exams. I left it on the bed with the other half, and knew that the lack of response from him of any kind after a minute or so meant that it was negative.
I actually feel a little bit like my heart has split itself in two. And there is no plaster big enough to mend it.
All that emotional energy, time, mileage, money, physical trauma, that has been invested in this cycle. It’s all been for nothing.