There really are no words that can even describe what is happening in our life. The pain continues to pile on, and the grief continues to grow without any sign of hope for a brighter day.
We headed to the clinic for 8:15, and for the first time ever, there were no words spoken between us on that ride. We both knew that there wasn’t anything to say. Just silence, holding hands, and slow dripping tears. We signed in to the clinic and they sent me for a blood draw (4 vials). My arms looked ravaged, so I had no idea where they planned on sticking the needle, but I honestly didn’t care. The woman (not my usual) was filling out paperwork to include with the viles and asked, “Have you been pregnant in the last 3 months?” Aggravated with her insensitive question, my response was, “Yes, right now but I am going upstairs so they can suck it out of me.” I didn’t mean to say it, but I was so numb to our reality that the words just came spilling out of my mouth. How could they even ask that question right now?
We headed upstairs to the surgical waiting room. We were only there for a few moments before my favorite nurse opened the door and called my name with a somber expression. Jeff and I kissed, and then I was brought into a small room where the nurse offered her condolences. At this point, the routine of surgery was all too familiar: answer questions, sign consents, doctor reviews surgery, anesthesiologist reviews, wait, surgery…
ANSWER QUESTIONS: When I first started at the clinic my answer to the question, “How many surgeries have you had?” was, “Wisdom teeth, ear tubes, and deviated septum.” Now, my answer is, “Wisdom teeth, ear tubes, deviated septum, 3 egg retrievals, laparoscopy, and hysteroscopy.” Just to be clear, the longer your infertility resume grows, the less promising it becomes.
SIGN THE CONSENTS: The nurse asked if we would like to test the fetal tissue, and I signed the forms. This required another vial of blood and the phlebotomist came upstairs to stick me, yet again.
DOCTOR REVIEWS SURGERY: Current Dr. walked in, grabbed my hand to hold, and asked me how I was doing. I was shocked by her comforting presence because that is very unlike her. I teared up and told her that we were hanging in there. She lets me know that she is not giving up, and she will not let me give up either. My words said, “We will keep fighting,” but my heart was whispering, “I don’t know what we have left.”
ANESTHESIOLOGIST REVIEWS: Once the Dr. left the room, the anesthesiologist came in with more questions and consents, and stuck me in the same place as the two previous blood draws. Ouch!
WAIT: I spent the next ten minutes or so waiting in the chair under warm blankets and reading my ttc sisters’ instagram updates.
SURGERY: The nurses came in to let me know it was time. I walked to the operating room and as I crossed the threshold, it hit me that it was over. Every other time I entered this room, it was for the promise of a better day to come. There was always hope of retrieving eggs, or discovering answers. Every procedure meant that we were one step closer to our baby. This time was different. This time felt like the finish line. I laid on the table with my lip quivering and tears streaming down my cheeks. My heart was in agony, and I didn’t know if it would ever end. I welcomed every drip from the IV meds because, even if only for a moment, I couldn’t feel the pain of infertility that has stolen our joy and controlled our lives.
“’Cause you were just a small bump unborn for four months then torn from life
Maybe you were needed up there but we’re still unaware as to why.”
SmallBump by Ed Sheeran
breakdown and rally 