Hope is a word that I've always associated with faith. The Book of Mormon teaches us that "if a man have faith he must needs have hope; for without faith there cannot be any hope" (Moroni 7:42). Faith and hope get us out of bed each morning. We hope for something, and we put our faith in ourselves and the Lord that it will happen. Unfortunately (and fortunately...) sometimes the things we hope for aren't necessarily what the Lord has in mind for us at the moment. Sometimes that hope gets dragged out longer than we'd like. Sometimes it wavers. Sometimes we're not sure if we have the same hope that we once had. And sometimes hope leaves your crying on the kitchen floor because you just wanted it to leave you alone.
Two weeks seems like a long time to wait just to know if your whole life is going to change. But we did it. I went to work, I volunteered, I kept the dog alive. The terrible irony of the Progesterone is that it mimics pregnancy symptoms. So even if you feel nauseous, moody, or bloated, you don't know if it's an early pregnancy symptom, or side effects of the tablets you get to insert every 6 hours. You want to think that you're pregnant, but you don't want to "get your hopes up."
Simply peeing on a stick doesn't work with In Vitro. All the hormones that you've been on for months have now infiltrated your system, and only a blood test will be able to tell you conclusively if you are pregnant. We had an appointment arranged at our local Military clinic for a blood draw. I'm still super grateful that I didn't have to drive to Walter Reed for these. In fact, I work 30 second away from this clinic. I just had to take my lunch break and walk across the street. Sort of a blessing in disguise. Anyway...
I did the blood test then went back to work. I was a wreck. I knew the phone call was coming that would change everything, and I didn't want to answer. I could see what the hormones were doing to me. My anxiety was through the roof. If someone looked at me wrong I broke down in tears. If the test was negative I wouldn't be able to keep myself together. So I did what anyone in my situation would do.... I made Dale take the call. I knew they would call both the numbers on file. So when the call came I simply ignored it. Ok, it wasn't simple, and I was still a wreck all day. But I had put off the inevitable for a few more hours.
When I got home I tried to act casual. Tried to look like whatever he was about to tell me was no big deal. "I'm pregnant? That's nice. I better go walk to dog." Or something along those lines. If only. It was more along the lines of this...
"Do you want to know the results?"
"If you want to give them to me..."
"It's not a negative. But it's not a positive."
...
...
...
"What the hell does that mean."
"It means that your HCG numbers are positive, but not very high. You need to take another blood test in a few days to see if the numbers go up."
Should I be excited? Should I be happy? I had no idea. Months and months of agony, stress, and pain leading up to this moment.... and I had nothing. Nothing but hope. Hope that was about to be dragged out for weeks when I really just wanted it dead.
The next blood test was worse. Dale took the call again. "The numbers went up slightly. You might be pregnant, but not very pregnant. Not where you should be. You'll need to take another blood test in a few days."
*FUN FACT* you can be pregnant and not pregnant at the same time!! Sometimes pregnancy tests are both a YES and a NO! How cool is that?!
Blood tests again.
And Again. For days. With symptoms that could either be early pregnancy or spotty period. Weird colored blood and nausea for hours. Terrible things that ultimately gave your a strange sense of both hope and failure. At this point I would have preferred a solid "no" over what was going on. On one occasion, I actually lost feeling in my legs and fell. Like actually fell to the ground. I thought that only happened to weak women in the movies. Nope.
Then Finally I was brave enough to take the call myself, "You're HCG levels are decreasing. I'm sorry, you are no longer pregnant. You'll need to get a daily blood test until the numbers get below 5, then we can start you on the next cycle to do it again. I'm soo sorry. Do you need anything from me?"
I assured the nurse I was fine. I needed to be fine. I needed to walk back into work and continue like nothing had happened. I used to be a stoic person. Where had that part of me gone? I think she was buried beneath piles of Lupron bottles, Gonal-F needles, and Menopur vials. She definitely didn't show up for work that day. What was left of me was going to have to fend for herself. So I went back to my desk. I started working, then I lost it.
Not in a "sobbing hysterical" way. I don't do that. But in a heart pounding, adrenaline rushing panic attack that was about to pull the ground out from under me. I knew I couldn't go to my boss and tell him I needed to go home. Just the thought of dealing with his questions made me panic more. Do I just walk out and go home without telling anyone? Who does that? Thankfully I do have some great co-workers, and after a few moments of silent horror I told one of them what had just happened. Without missing a beat, she turned me around and had me out the door with all my things. "I'll write your leave slip and get it signed. Call the nurse back when you can and have her fax a doctors note."
I don't remember much of the drive. Thankfully I remembered that Tiberius was at Doggy Day Care on base, so I went and got him. And of course there was a lovely "call me, I need a doctors note," text from my boss. But I made it.
And you know what I learned? Sometimes things just suck. Ok, honestly. Everything can be going perfect, you can be doing everything you're supposed to do.... and it still doesn't work. This might seem obvious to everyone else, but I don't usually fail when I set my mind up to do something. How is it possible that I can go above and beyond what I'm supposed to do and have it still not work out? Well, such is life. The control freak has no power when it comes to forcing an embryo to attach to her uterine wall. It's stupid. I know.
And my Hope? It's shaken. My faith? It's seen better days. But I'm constantly reminded that my hope and faith can't be in me alone (because we've all seen how well that worked out...), but it has to be grounded in something stronger. Something constant. It has to be in the Savior and His atonement, and the promise that "all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good."
So we wait, and try again. Because mamma didn't raise no quitter.
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