The post that took three months to write

I have been hiding.  But you've probably all noticed that already.  
I have been taking cover in our little home, away from my computer and keyboard.  Away from writing, away from talking, away from facing the reality of what was happening.

Our call from the clinic nurse 14 days after our FET twin transfer was not a positive one.  But we already had a fairly strong inkling it wouldn't be.  I had started to feel the first signs of nausea and cramping at around 9-10 days post transfer, but they disappeared as quickly as they'd arrived.  By Day 13 I felt nothing again.  But we set the alarm nice and early on Day 14 so we could do the home pregnancy tests together.  We did two of different brands just to be sure.  One positive (only just) and one negative.  That was enough to convince me.  Three hours later the nurse called and confirmed what we already knew.  Our little ones didn't make it.

I think at first I told myself it was ok.  We had spent months before the transfer toughening ourselves up.  We knew the risks, we knew the failure rates, we'd been told that two embryos may not take as well as one.  But we'd made an informed choice together.  And then we suffered the loss together.  And it only really hit me when I saw my beloved Husband explaining what'd happened, through tears, to his Mum on the phone.  Our two tiny sparks were no more. 

I didn't bleed straight away.  My body didn't want to give up until it was medically induced.  And then when it did, so did my brain...  I couldn't stand the idea of going through this all again.  But our doctor encouraged a second cycle due to the high hormone levels still floating around my body, and that it would be of benefit in another cycle.  So we went ahead with more preparation drugs, however they did not take.  My body rejected the artificial hormones and we cancelled the cycle two days out from the FET.   Sitting in his office alone, weighing up the options of increasing my doses further or cancelling the cycle altogether, I fell apart.  He reached forward, grabbed my hand and told me it was alright to be upset.  He'd had such high hopes for Hubby and I, and even his heart broke for us. 

That afternoon when I got home, Hubby was waiting for.  I didn't have to say a word; didn't have to explain what'd happened during my appointment.  He had a fairly clear idea from the beaten look on my face.  It was right then we decided that we'd definitely had enough for this year.  2012 had been a bust.  We were grateful for the big steps forward we'd made; I mean, we still have eight beautiful, tiny, frozen miracles.  But, we were broken from our losses.   Not long after that we went into our cocoon, where we have been ever since.  We've had some exciting news from family and friends about their own pregnancies.  We are going to be an Aunt and Uncle again very soon to our first beautiful, little nephew, and we couldn't be more excited.  But as for our own baby plans, well they are on hold again for now.