DAY 20: “that phone call”

PREVIOUSLY on the last episode of ‘Style & Life by Susana’:

My phone rang exactly at 8.45AM and literally my heart felt like it stopped beating and sank further deep within my chest at the sound of my ringtone, ‘Sex & the City’.

Embryologist: (pause) “Unfortunately your embryo isn’t suitable for biopsy or freezing. It hasn’t progressed to the next stage of being a blastocycst that we would like it to be. We will continue to monitor it over the next 24 hours and I will give you a ring tomorrow morning to let you know of the outcome”.

I’m at my day time office job and I am most definitely not able to concentrate on typing up a report I’m meant to be working on. I can’t focus. Zip. Zilch, Nada.

I have been waiting ALL morning for the phone call from my embryologist to give me my update on my little warrior. I have never looked at a digital clock AND a wall clock  so many times in my entire life. You know, just in case they may be a tad different from each other time wise. (Cue in the awkward attempt of a sense of humour) 

In the end I just got sick and tired of waiting and rang my IVF Nurse who then rang the embryologist to get them to give me a call. Pretty much as soon as I got off the phone to my Nurse, the embryologist rang straight away. You pretty much could have heard the huge thump on the ground of my heart falling. Just as the embryologist said, ‘Hi Susana it’s Nicole.’ I started to power walk to the boardroom and shut the door behind me. Again the same usual starting conversation:

Embryologist:  “Can you please provide your complete name, date of birth and address.” I give her my details. (PAUSE)

Embryologist: “Unfortunately I don’t have any good news to tell you, Susana… Your embryo is still at the compacting stage.”

My heart at this point completely stopped beating and I paused for what seemed like an eternity and then asked: “So does that still mean though that its still slowly growing?”

(ANOTHER UNCOMFORTABLE PAUSE)

Embryologist: “I’m sorry Susana, no its stopped growing. I’m so sorry for being the bearer of sad news.”

I hung up the call and took in a deep breath and just broke down into a flood of tears. I just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. And unfortunately they were very loud sobs that my work colleagues were able to hear me through the wall regardless that the door to the boardroom was shut closed.

I truly believed in all of my heart and soul that this was the cycle; that it was going to work. My little warrior had been developing so well up until Day 4.

Every thought, every possibility, ever reason, every question why has run through my mind on speeded repeat. I have dissected every reasoning why it should have worked, every possibility perhaps that the doctors stuffed up, perhaps the medication wasn’t right this time, was it not enough or was it too much… no matter how many times I have over analysed it, gone over it in my mind, in the end it come’s to the same conclusion: maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

My little warrior just didn’t have anymore fight in it to win the battle.

My hand shook something shocking as the phone rang.

 ‘Hi babe…” I then broke down in tears and he figured out the rest.

We both cried together over the phone.

What adds more to the pain is hearing my husband crying on the phone.

I can’t hold him, I can’t put my arms around him, I can’t see him.

All the while he’s at work in another city far from me, regardless of the distance, the pain can still be felt.

I failed again for my gorgeous amazing husband. I know I shouldn’t be thinking it but tell me, how can I not? How can I not feel or think that I have failed him? I can’t give to him what he truly so deserves to have: a child of his own.

A child that is created by him and I. A child that has his sporting ability, intelligence and height and perhaps red hair.  A child that has my stubbornness and passion to fight to go after what it believes in, olive skin complexion and be all arty. A child that would be so truly loved and adored by two parents that loves it more than life itself.

A few months ago, I was a close family friends wedding with my husband and my mother and at this one particular moment, I looked over at the family bridal table where my mama was sitting at and saw my mother holding a friends baby.

I just watched in complete awe, love and pain. It seemed at that very precise moment my mother must have felt I was looking at her, that she looked over at me and I just broke down in tears. It was the most magical and beautiful vision to see my mother look like a grandmother, holding this gorgeous baby girl, bouncing her on her knee and making those cooing sounds to her.

A good friend of mine saw I was crying and came to my side and held me in her arms as I cried. I’ve failed my mother too, she will never be a grandmother because of me. I’ve somehow denied her of that beautiful experience.

I know it may hard for anyone who hasn’t struggled with fertility or conceiving issues to really feel or understand why I have over past posts sometimes I keep saying, ‘I failed for my husband/as a woman.’

I know I shouldn’t think or feel that way, it so freaking hard not too. It is how I feel deep down inside and no matter who says to me, whether its friends, family or my husband, no one is able to take those feelings away from me. Just because, it is how I am feeling. How I feel.

I couldn’t help it but I apologised to the most amazing man I have ever known (next to my father) that this has happened again all because of me. My gorgeous husband once again says I have nothing to apologise for, “it is what it is”.

It still doesn’t make it any easier.

I can’t help but not blame myself.

Maybe it is because of my age.

Or maybe it is because of all the other infertility issues that I have (NKC, one fully blocked fallopian tube the other half blocked).

Who fucking knows.

Only God knows and He’s not sharing with us the reasons why. Maybe He has other plans for me, for us. I don’t know. All I know is right now I am feeling and thinking that God ignored my prayer, pressed the mute button on his smartphone to not answer my nagging phone call. Don’t get me wrong, I am religious and very spiritual and besides the heartache pain, there is also anger. Not just at myself but at the world.

There are women out there in their late 30’s/early 40’s, fuck even into their late 40’s that they are able to still conceive without any problems or issues. But why me?? Why the fuck me?!

Again, who knows. All I know, it just wasn’t meant to be again this cycle and I am so tired. I am so unbelievably tired. Emotionally, mentally and physically. I don’t know if I can do another cycle.

I really don’t think I have it in me to do another one. The constant repetitive failure one after another just brings you further down and how can you not but be hard on yourself.

Blaming yourself.

Critising yourself.

Putting yourself down.

This has ruled our lives for over four years.

It’s all I can think about. I breathe it. I eat it, I think it. I sleep it. I bleed it. And even when I’m not “thinking” its there in the back of my mind. It appears in my dreams. Its a constant war battle of emotions and mental games that I am always fighting. And its a battle unfortunately that I am constantly losing and these wounds are so ever deep, that I don’t know if I will ever recover from mentally.

I’m being painfully honest here. Thats what my blog is all about: raw truth and honesty. I have always been an emotional sensitive person but since starting this IVF journey over three years ago, I don’t know if it is because of all the hormonal drugs I have taken, but it doesn’t take much to make me cry.

I used to be able to have an argument without getting chocked up and breaking down in tears. Now, its a losing ground for me. One minute into an argument and I am already starting to feel the tightness in my throat and my eyes starting to well up. Game over!

When is this Warrior Queen going to finally win the war battle and bring home a little Prince or a little Princess??? That spare bedroom in our home that has a small collection of small toys, will they ever be held by little hands? Who knows if it will ever be. Sure I have options such as egg donor or adoption but I seriously cannot even contemplate that now or even think about it. Or when I will be able to. The pain of this cycle has just crumbled me more than I had ever imagined. The pain that is in my heart as I type this post is beyond deeply painful. It literally feels like that the pain that my heart is feeling is shredding, slowly, bit by bit. The heart is being razor blade shredded. It’s the best way I can describe to you how it feels for me.

I don’t know if its meant to be in my destiny to a mother to a human being (I am a very proud mother to two fur babies: Tiago and Miguel, two beautiful and well behaved chihuahua boys).

I never gave it a second thought of, ‘what if I’m not able to have a baby?’ because it’s not spoken in society or mentioned the difficulty a lot of couples do have in conceiving a child, regardless of their age. It’s a preconceived idea that a man and woman who have sex will fall pregnant and have a baby. I just always assumed I would fall pregnant one day and have a baby. Never gave it a second thought that I would ever struggle.

All I know right now this very moment is that my heart hurts more than I could have EVER imagined, and the pain is palpable beyond any meaning and comprehension.

COMING UP ON THE NEXT EPISODE: ‘so what now?’