Honestly… I feel a little PMS coming on.
My breasts are feeling a little tender, and my lower back is starting to ache: classic symptoms of AF for me. *sigh* I am trying to remain neutral until I know for sure, but we all know how easy that is!
I am deeply sorry for Debbie, who got a BFN yesterday. There is nothing that can be said, that can take away the feeling of emptiness and disappointment when that happens. There has been so much good news in the blogs lately, and we all hope to be a part of that, too. Sadly though, whilst some of us will move on to happier times, some will inevitably have to stay behind and continue to struggle against the odds.
When I started reading other people’s blogs, and sharing in their disappointment, I would often try to give an upbeat, positive message to those people, thinking that it would make them feel better. (Yes, I am a Stage 6 NTI – Baby Dust -kinda gal). Silly me, there is nothing positive about a Big Fat Negative. All that people really want is support: a thoughtful comment, mail or sms; a small bunch of flowers or any other kind gesture; or just a hug. Plain and simple: acknowledgement of their loss.
I know what you’re thinking, “How can they grieve a loss when they never had anything to begin with?” Believe me, when you are staring down the barrel of a BFN, it is with an overwhelming sense of having lost something. I cried like my heart would break with my last failed IUI. (And I don’t cry easily.) It’s just that you pour your heart and soul into the process, you allow yourself to “breathe out” and feel a little hopeful again. You imagine how you will tell people, you imagine their delighted reactions. You dream about holding your baby close to your heart and feeling that love welling up inside that everyone tells you about. It’s a massive investment of yourself, and when it crashes, the repercussions are great.
At the aforementioned 21st birthday party, I failed to mention that there was a 6 month old baby there. He was the most adorable little thing, cute as a button, really. BUT: I could not for the life of me spend more than 5 minutes around him without a feeling of absolute despair setting in. I avoided being near him or his mother (21). I watched from across the room as people handed him around, playing with him and making him smile. I felt such a heavy weight bearing down on me. Without realising it, I have avoided babies and all things baby related for so long, that I am not even sure what it is that I want so badly anymore. All I know is that the ache won’t go away until I have it.
So I am still here, waiting patiently for my own result. You’ll be happy to know that I have not given up on this cycle. Yet.