The Eternal Guest Room

I won’t leave you in any more suspense.

It worked.

It really did.

I think I’m still in shock.

I got my first positive test the morning after my birthday (6dp5dt); it was a faint line on a stick, but it was there. Three days later I went in for a blood test, and got the call that afternoon: It was positive. First beta was 224. Two days after that I had my second beta to make sure it was doubling, and it was: 465. That’s when it started to sink in. We were driving through a wind farm in the middle of nowhere, West Texas, and I will never forget that call.

Our first sonogram is scheduled for January 4. The wait is killing me. Absolutely killing me. After all these years of waiting, the reward is…more waiting.

When I first sat down to write this post, I was surprised to realize that over all these years, I never really thought about what I would write if we actually had success. I’ve imagined other things, but somehow, never this. And I had no idea what I wanted to say, or how to say it. This post took me 4 days to write.

I write this knowing that it’s too early to tell people. I know how much can go wrong. But you’ve all gone through so much with us and supported us so incredibly that I can’t wait any longer to tell you. Please don’t tell anyone else – it’ll be a while before we make any announcements. A few people know – parents, siblings, close friends, my support group – but that’s it for now.

We are cautiously excited – we have a long way to go. Once we hear a heartbeat I think I’ll be able to believe it. I try to strike a balance between being thrilled and remembering that a positive test does not necessarily equal a baby. But I do let myself be happy for this. We’ve come so far and tried for so long, and we finally got the beginning of what we want. It’s a crazy feeling.

Telling people has been so weird; I’ve found that it’s incredibly difficult to say to people “I’m pregnant!” So I usually call and say “IVF worked!” That seems much more realistic and attainable.

I’ve been kind of shocked at how little has changed. Of course I didn’t expect my feelings to change overnight; nearly 5 years of infertility can’t go away in a day, let alone ever. But I’ve been really surprised at how I don’t really feel any different. I still dread pregnancy announcements. I still don’t want to hear anything about my little sisters’ kids. I still hate seeing pregnant ladies. I still feel a strong sense of loss.

But here we are. Here I am, with one or two of those little embryos, whose picture I stare at every day, actually living and growing inside of me. Here I am, with a bag of positive pregnancy tests, which I can’t bear to throw away, and one that’s sitting on the back of the toilet where I look at it at least once a day. Here I am, sicker every day, and loving it, because I feel that it must mean something is going on. Here we are, with hopes and dreams that we can actually think about a little bit, and know that they might actually be real, not in the distant future but in 8 months.

I can’t believe we are here. I feel a peace I haven’t felt in years, but I also feel more terrified than I ever have in my life. Every day is forever. The countdown for the sonogram has gone from 20 days to 8, but it feels more like weeks than days. Please keep us in your thoughts, and if you pray, your prayers. Being infertile means that the sonogram is as scary as it is exciting, and probably even more so.

I can’t thank you all enough for your continued support. When we started going through this, we were alone. And now we are surrounded by support. And I really believe it made a difference in the outcome.

(And again, please please please don’t say anything to anyone, don’t write anything on my facebook wall, etc. etc. etc.)