Even though I failed the pregnancy test I still took my progesterone this weekend like a good girl.
Even though I started spotting last night I went to my blood draw this morning like a good girl.
When the phlebotomist that I hate called my name, I went willingly and I sat quietly as she dug the needle around in my arm…twice. Then I calmly asked for someone else to take my blood, thinking the whole time that I needn’t be here. It was all a formality, adding insult to injury.
You know the urban legend about the IVF cycle where the woman had a negative pregnancy test 8dp5dt, spotting one day later, and still ended up pregnant?
That’s not me.
My beta was negative.
Infertility has so many ways to tell you that you have failed; pee test, spotting, blood test, period. I’ve failed them all this cycle except getting my period which will surely come when I stop the progesterone. I can feel it building like water behind a dam seeking out a crack.
That little inextinguishable flame of hope always burns until the very end.
Lots of thoughts this weekend…
Lots of options discussed and debated…
Lots of plans made and abandoned to be replaced with new plans…
…which were then abandoned.
You know those letters people write to their past selves at eighteen or twenty or thirty? I could really use a letter from “future Megan”.
We are a bit lost right now. The only thing we know is that we need a break.