Saturday, 15 November 2008

Yesterday

A bright red spot on the end of the progesterone applicator signals the end.

I go in for the blood test anyway. The nurse is still hoping for me. Sure. If it makes you feel good.

I pull over when driving home and say a prayer... of sorts....

FUCK YOU. mother fucker. 

What is it in me that redirects my fist and foot? The tut tutting protestant whispering "waste" and "melodrama" and I hit the tiled wall and door frame instead of the intended mirror and shower screen. Fuck.

The familiar noise of my wailing - keeping up with the 6 month old next door. They leave the house, and I wonder if it is because of me.

The pee stick, thrown into the bin in disgust, is retrieved. Just. In. Case.

I turn up for my shiatsu appointment. Sunglasses cover my face. And when I remove them I cover my face with my hands and balls of tissue. He starts his thing about hope. Whatever. I need to be in this I say. Don't ask me about the future. 

A humble practitioner. He accepts it and asks what he can do to support it. "I don't know" I whisper. And the sobbing begins. I lie there, a shuddering damp thing. The self conscious part of me wonders why on earth i came when I know I am in no place to receive whatever gift this kind man has to offer. But I continue to lie there anyway. My breath begins to slow, and catch less often. At some point I open my eyes and see that he is working, not only with his eyes closed but with his face turned away. To respect my need for privacy or to protect himself from the toxicity of my anger? Maybe both. Gradually, my hands are removed from my face, my shoulders gently moved from my ears. He stretches my arms up high and out wide, so that my poor broken heart remains open despite every instinct in me telling me to protect it. I see the wisdom in this and I'm grateful. 

By the time he reaches my head my tears have almost subsided. My hair and face are damp from them. He massages my clenched jaw and smoothes my brow.  Scrubs the top of my head and pulls something out, and I feel it leave. I don't know what it was that left me but I feel a little lighter. He places a wheat bag over my eyes and my hands over my heart saying this is where I need strength, and leaves me to be still for a while.

Jake comes home and we wait for the call together. It is late - which is a sure sign of an unsuccessful cycle. I ring the nurse and she confirms what I already know - it's the end. My hormones are not at zero - there has been some attempt to implant. Was it hours or even a day or two? Somehow this makes it all a little bit sadder. It is the closest we have ever come.

I don't know why I am not pregnant. When I fell pregnant with Maya I fell straight away - and yet we have had three healthy tested embryos put back (over the course of 4 fresh and a frozen cycle) and none have stuck. I don't get it. 

Now the final wait. For my period - the post progesterone supplement tsunami - to come.


18 comments:

Nikki said...

I am so sorry B. I really am. Hugs to you. I have no words that will make this better. I'm just very sorry.

MrsSpock said...

So very sorry. My heart is heavy for you.

Rachel said...

I'll wait beside you, and though it's no comfort, I'm sorry this sucks so much.

Lori said...

Sitting here with you, trying to share this load so you don't have to bear it alone.

So sorry, B.

Niki said...

I am so terribly sorry my dear! This just sucks! ((HUGS))

luna said...

oh crap, crap, crap, B.. I"m so very sorry. my heart is so heavy for you.

you are brave for receiving the gift of massage at such a vulnerable moment, I would have been sobbing too.

for what it's worth. my hub is a bodyworker, and when he deals with someone in such pain, he is the amazing type of healer that tries to absorb some of that weight himself, while passing along some lightness. a good healer has incredible compassion -- it sounds like you have one there.

thinking of you.

CLC said...

I am so very sorry.

mrsmuelly said...

I'm so, so sorry. This plain sucks.

Pamela Jeanne said...

There are no good words so like the others who've arrived ahead of me, I'll just sit with you, too....

tonya said...

I am so deeply sorry you're in this place right now. I have been hoping for a really different outcome. You are in my thoughts.

Kami said...

I'm so sorry B. I felt so hopeful with you. I am heartbroken with you too.

I wish I could help in a way that would really matter.

Michele said...

I am so sorry. Words dont make the pain less, I know. I'm crying for you now. Not just for you, but for remembering our own struggles too. I am just so sorry. It's just not fair.

jodie38 said...

Oh no, oh no. I'm crying with you....I'm so very, very sorry.

niobe said...

I'm so, so sorry.

Me said...

I'm truly sorry.

mlg- believe N miracles said...

B
I am so sorry, I am truly sorry.
I want you to know that you have given me strength in the last couple of weeks to keep moving forward. I hope that knowing that you have helped someone through a difficult time can give you some peace, I know it cant take the pain away, but maybe it can give you the strength to keep moving forward also, what other choice do we really have. You have truly helped me and I am glad that I found you.

Martha said...

Here with a (Hug) from Mrs.Spit's blog.
You may receive all the love and comfort I ever have to offer and mostly, that your sweet Maya is okay with Him.

Emily (Apron Strings) said...

I know this late, but please know that I'm sorry. This just plain sucks.