Well, today was the third pregnancy blood test. I felt really good last night and yesterday. I had so many symptoms that I had when I was pregnant with my daughter, including uterine pains, clogged ears, insomnia, etc. I felt so confident that I was pregnant; I started dreaming of ways to celebrate the news.
Although I am super lucky that I was able to have one daughter, I still feel gypped (I know, petty) that I never got to celebrate the miracle during the gestation process. There was little enjoyment of any part of my pregnancy with my daughter because I spent the entire nine months nervous about every little symptom. I also still hold a grudge that I never had a baby shower. I did not want gifts, what I wanted was to spend a day celebrating the fact that I was able to achieve and maintain a healthy pregnancy.
Not only was I unable to enjoy any aspect of the pregnancy, I was petrified once my daughter was born. Some of that was normal new mom stuff, and some of it was because my delivery was very difficult and complicated. It took me about six months to NOT feel pain on a daily basis.
I read a comment in a magazine by Jennifer Garner once about wishing that all first time mothers could feel the way second time mothers felt. I totally understood what she meant and wanted the opportunity to experience the elation with a second baby. I wanted to hold a baby close, snuggle and recognize how fleeting the baby stage was. I (can’t believe I am saying this) wanted to breastfeed again. I just wanted to do it all.
Of course, most of all, I wanted a sibling for my daughter. Honestly, every time I glanced at my current family portrait, it seemed to be missing another child.
I have taken a pregnancy test every morning since Saturday (it is now Wednesday) and hoping that the positive line would get darker. Yesterday, it seemed to get a tad darker. I compared two of the tests countless times and was certain yesterday’s was darker. I was getting super excited. But then, I took an additional test this morning, expecting great news, and the line was barely visible. I was crushed. Even though I knew in my heart of hearts that I would receive bad news later in the day, and even went so far to warn my patient coordinator that she would have to be the bearer of bad news later in the day, I still hoped against hope that the testing stick was flawed. I knew better, but I hoped and hoped.
So here I am. Waiting by the phone for the bad news, yet praying that the news will be surprisingly great. These last days have been a struggle. Sure, I got the thrill of another positive home pregnancy test. That moment was wonderful. The rest of the moments plagued me with pure anxiety and sadness. Why did Murphy have to revisit my husband and me again?
These last few moments of waiting are terrifying and devastating. This was our last chance and now the chance is gone. I will always be proud of myself for trying one last time, but disappointed at the results. My daughter will stay a member of the only child club, and I will never experience the world of baby again. A world which I feel I could do so much better the second time around.
My poor daughter has no idea why I haven’t picked her up in the past two weeks. I don’t want to put her through this process a second time. Plus, who am I kidding; the chances of achieving success again are slim to none. My body has sustained enough damage over the years of infertility treatments.
I just wish my husband, a star father, could bless a second child in his lifetime. I wish my daughter could have a partner in crime and a playmate. I wish, but wishing is not enough.
If it were, my levels would not have dropped all the way down to a five. It is officially over.
Merryl Polak is the author of Murphy Lives Here, a story about her struggle with the pursuit of motherhood. After struggling with infertility for almost 9 years, she finds that parenting struggles have followed her infertility struggles perfectly!