Hysteroscopy #4 was Monday. I know in some cases no news = good news, but that is not the case. I wish I had better news to share. We prayed and prayed for it. We have waited almost a year from our last transfer for it. However, it didn’t come. And I can’t say I am surprised….What’s another major disappointment at this point?
Our upcoming October FET is off. Cancelled. Done.
During the hysteroscopy, my RE found that the mass that was surgically removed back in May returned. The “something” on the ultrasounds really was “something” after all. It only took 3 months for that f’n monster to grow back ( you will have to excuse my language).
I woke up from the twilight anesthesia with tears rolling down my face. Not from any physical pain—just mental. It reminded me of the feeling I had when I awoke from one of my D & C’s…EMPTY. I could hear bits and pieces of the “oh no’s, “dammits,” and “shits,” from the staff during the procedure, and in my half alive state, I knew all too well what it meant.
I recall pushing the nurse off of me when she kindly tried to help me get dressed..hell, this wasn’t my first rodeo—I could do it myself. They showed me images and comparisons, blah, blah, blah. They encouraged me not to give up hope…again, blah, blah, blah.
My RE said she wanted to consult with the 4 other specialists at her practice about what to do at this point, which brings us to today. Their “meeting of the minds” took place this morning. I sat by my phone waiting all day for the call to come in. For some STUPID reason, up until today, we believed it might be a possibility that we could still proceed with our FET in October. It hadn’t been indefinitely ruled out on Monday…we had left it all hanging on the professional consensus today.
The call finally came around 4 p.m. The consensus was that not ONE doctor thought we should move forward. In fact, we won’t be moving forward for quite some time. In fact, we most likely won’t even be bringing a baby home with us in 2016 at all. If ever.
The recommendation is for an MRI of the mass next. This has to be done by some specialist at some hospital. My RE gave me all the details, none of which I remember any of tonight as I sit here and type this. Originally, I intended on writing things down and asking things during our call today, but none of that happened. I dropped my pen, listened, and put my hands on my head as I blankly stared into space.
The MRI will rule out a few things (of which I don’t even give a damn enough to get into right now) and depending on the results, the plan of action would go 1 of 3 ways:
- Have another operation —looking at springtime for a possible transfer date with this scenario
- Lupron suppression for at least 3 months- looking at springtime for a possible transfer date
- Gestational Carrier
I guess it was only a matter of time before #3 was thrown directly on the table. Because at this point, we all know options 1 and 2 may very well fail. Shit, option 1 already did fail once.
When she told me I may never have the opportunity to feel life inside me again, I felt all the blood rush through my body. She could barely get the words gestational carrier out…I was pretty much like “go ahead, give it to me.” I can’t describe how I know I was pulling it out of my RE…I just do. After 2 years of being in direct contact, I know her and she knows me. She kept saying how sorry she was. Yea, us too. No girl grows up dreaming of IVF, miscarrying, or let alone, a surrogate.
I think this might be one of the hardest posts I have written. Before writing this, I cried and yelled at my mom on my drive home. I should add that I only did all this because I know I can let it all out with her. She tried to tell me it’s not the end of the road, it’s not over, she loved me, and all that. She tried to support me the best she could. I mean, really, at this point, who knows what to say to us anymore. I get it.
I don’t want to hear it’s all okay, because in our world it is not all okay. There are no rainbows here today, folks. And yes, you may tell me they are on the way, to keep my faith, and hope…but that doesn’t change today. Another let down. Time keeps on passing us by. It’s been a LONG road and I would like to think we have done OK being patient on it…so I must ask…are you there, God??? Remember me?!?
So, tonight, my husband and I just laid in the dark crying. All too familiar. We talked about how we let our hopes get up again, how we feel so lost. Yet again… 1 step forward…20 back. There was a lot of silence. What can we say? I feel like this may be our biggest crossroad yet. We talked about giving up on all of it. Who knows. The conversation ended with how maybe we need to get the hell out of here and go away, from everyone, just the 2 of us.