Unfortunately, I did not get pregnant. :(
No child or twins or triplets will be coming our way.
When the phone rang, I let Danny answer it this time. The call was on speaker.
At first the doctor's voice sounded chipper, but then it didn't.
I could tell that the answer was no before he actually told us.
It's been strange each time knowing that the results are so dang final. I always think to myself, is there ANY chance? Did they check too early? What if they were mistaken? It takes a second for it to sink in that it really, really is final. It reminds me of that feeling when someone has died...it's just over all at once.
After the phone call, there was actually a sense of relief, just by knowing the outcome. I mean, a lot was resting on that moment. We won't be doing any more medical treatments or trying anything else to get pregnant. This will be the final "no" of all my years of infertility. This will be the end of ever anticipating a pregnancy again. [Luckily, I've gotten to the point where I don't "wonder if I'm pregnant" each month, so I won't even be doing that.]
I guess I've been prepared for this surrendering. I've surrendered time and time again in my life. Oh my. I have done it. But it's time to do it again. I know that's just how life works.
In a way, it feels like the end of an identity. My whole life, I've been planning on one day getting pregnant and having a child. It's crazy how much of my life has evolved around that plan - whether it's studying about health and fertility and birth, anticipating pregnancy, changing my diet (drastically), working my tail off to provide for a family, buying a home and car for a family, trying so many different things to get pregnant, or going to appt. after appt., etc. It's really strange to not be that person anymore. I've been packing up syringes, leftover drugs, IV poles, alcohol swabs, piles of paperwork, and medical records. I won't need them anymore. Anybody need some books about infertility? I have an entire library. There is so much tucked away in storage that I need to get rid of.
After the phone call, Danny and I talked about what we might want to do that night. Go to a movie? Clean? Make dinner? We agreed we didn't need to do anything special. But we did want to be with each other and be as close as possible to each other. We said "I love you" and "I can't tell you how much I appreciate you" to each other like a hundred times. :) We celebrated that we didn't need to do the medication routine anymore. We gave each other high fives for getting through the whole ordeal. And we ended up wrapped up tightly on our bed with a laptop and watched an old movie series we've been enjoying (The Count of Monte Cristo with Gerard Depardieu).
The next day felt like the first day of summer or something. It was like, wow - what should we do? I guess our life is wide open. We picked up our vegetables from our CSA and then made a chili and pie for the fall cook-off at our congregation. And in between "I love yous" and "I'm so happy you're my wife/husband", we've been talking a lot about what this next phase of life will look like. It's going to be very different. It's unsettling and strange to be in this position and it's not what we would choose, but we'll try to make the most of our lives. Our little family of two has some big changes ahead.