The Bubble

This past week was the last day of school here in town, and since one of my son's friends finished eighth grade, we were invited to a barbecue party at the lake this afternoon. It was a nice distraction, to be honest, because my mind has been all over the place the last few days.

I was on the fence about doing pregnancy tests at home before my scheduled beta hCG test at the clinic on Wednesday. Most of me didn't want to know - I know it's silly, but I just wanted to be in my blissful bubble of optimism for as long as possible. Especially since my husband is back in Colorado and whether the news this week is good or bad, I'll be opening that email alone.

But curiosity got the best of me, especially since I've been feeling so many symptoms that I remember from being pregnant with my son - the tiredness especially, a little bit of soreness, and some light back pain. It's hard to cheer for something you can't see or feel any proof of, something that you just have to trust is unfolding as it should. 

So I took one, and it was negative. 

Then another brand a day later, and it was negative.

Then a third brand the next day, one that is supposed to be the most sensitive on the market, and that was negative as well. 

And I just spiraled.

It was like floating in a bubble this last week, from the incredible overwhelming joy of the embryo transfer to the very positive result of the first round of blood tests - and then suddenly, it was like that bubble burst.

It's been long time since I've taken any pregnancy tests. We had bought them by the case when we were trying to conceive naturally, and testing multiple times a month until my period would inevitably show up and we would grieve the failure. I forgot what an absolute gut punch it is to feel so tremendously hopeful and then have that positivity and joy disappear so quickly, like all the air being sucked out of a room. And again, and again, and again.

In a way, I was a little bit relieved when I had my weight loss surgery. It meant at least a year or more of avoiding pregnancy tests, for better or worse, but also - I got to focus on myself for a while, to focus on feeling comfortable in a body that I had come to feel so betrayed by, and so angry with. How is it possible that I got pregnant so easily with my abusive cretin of an ex-husband, but now struggle so significantly with the love of my life? I was so mad. There was a lot of anger and depression and frustration that I tried to bury with food, and in the end I was still angry and still depressed and still frustrated and now almost 400 pounds. Weight loss surgery gave me a chance to work on the physical side effect of my mental and emotional struggles, and therapy has helped me make progress on making peace with the causes.

But now, here I am. Weight is bouncing around the 220s, which is a little bit higher than my lowest weight, but it's where I've been trying to maintain as we have been navigating the IVF process. But even worse than the weight anxiety, is the creeping back of the difficult thoughts that had me struggling with my weight to begin with. And absolutely, so much of that is tied to this whole fertility experience.

At the barbecue today, I was talking with a friend of the family that invited us, and she asked if my son was my only child. Oh yes, I replied, he's enough! It's become my standard answer the last few years, because not only is the truth complicated and painful, but it's not what people are looking for. No one wants to actually hear that you're struggling. No one wants the details of your loss. It's polite conversation at best, between strangers searching for anything to discuss.

She continued though, and asked if we might have more kids in the future. And it caught me off guard, but the answer was still oh I don't know, he's enough! Because how do I say, I might be pregnant right now? I was pregnant last Sunday - impregnated, at least - but now the tests have me scared out of my mind that I've lost this little wisp of hope that I already loved with every molecule of my being. 

So I deflect, and I fight back the tears, and I cry when we get home, laying in bed and watching the clock tick by to 8 PM and my medication alarm so I can do more of the stressful injections that have my butt muscles sore and covered in little injection site spots. As soon as the injection is done, I can go to sleep and enjoy unconsciousness for a little while, a few peaceful moments without anxiety - and then, wake up a few hours closer to Wednesday morning, and the definitive update on where we stand.