I had these plans. Not big plans, but small, manageable, plans.
I've been sharing our story throughout this IUI process - I've been doing "belated blogging," and I had plans for several more posts.
I had plans to tell you about the shot I had to give myself - how a friend talked me through it, and afterwards I was shaky and cried. I had plans to tell you about the shot Ben gave me - how it was so easy, barely hurt, and I joked I was going to start calling him, "the shot whisperer."
I had plans to tell you how I wanted to be "just like Goldilocks" at one of my appointments - not reacting too much too the medicine, not reacting too little to the medicine, but rather, responding "just right."
I had plans to tell you how our IUI went really well - and how some of the discomfort I experienced in the days following seemed to be good signs.
I had plans to tell you how I went to the ER twice in four days (I'm fine - they think I have GERD), and how when I was getting a CAT scan my IV came loose and dripped contrast dye ON MY HEAD, and the ensuing hilarity that caused. I had plans to tell you how at the end of those visits I joked with the doctors, saying, "man I better be pregnant after all this sh*t!" and we all laughed.
I had plans to tell you with the exception of a few bad moments I was able to mostly maintain a positive attitude and how I know that helped.
And then in one afternoon, my plans came to a screeching halt.
After a blood draw for results, my nurse called and told me in the gentlest voice possible that she was not calling with good news, and that unfortunately I was not pregnant.
After multiple shots, all kinds of pills, and a crazy amount of monitoring, I was not pregnant.
Even though (according to ultra sounds), my body responded really well to the medicine, I was not pregnant.
The call did not take long, and neither did the tearful one I placed to Ben afterwards (he had been at work and was home in less than twenty minutes). Then I hung up...and sobbed.
I couldn't stop if I'd wanted to. I just cried, and honestly? I think it was good that got out before Ben got home (although there were more tears then too), because it was horrible, and raw, and I've never heard myself sound like that before.
I can't physically talk about it yet. I can text about it, or write about it, but saying the words becomes too painful, too much.
I just can't.
I couldn't wait to do "belated blogging" with this. The pain is real and happening, and it's now.