D and I had a very quiet weekend together. We went out on Friday evening and bought several bottles of wine and hired five movies from the DVD rental shop. Thankfully, it was a rainy weekend so we didn't feel too bad about spending it on the couch. It was nice not being so careful about doing things that were good for me - though I didn't enjoy the slight hangover I had on Saturday morning!
I haven't cried since the news came through on Friday afternoon. It's not like I'm trying to stop myself, more that the shock has lessened and it really feels like we're back to where we were a couple of months ago. Having a baby has always seemed so unreal, such a fantasy, that it doesn't feel like I've actually lost very much. But we haven't gained anything. We are still without, lacking, missing something that we have wanted so desperately for so long.
Before we started this cycle, we were sure that this would be our last attempt. We had worked so hard to save the money to pay for it and we really didn't want to put our lives on hold any more. We wanted to do what other people do with their money - travel, buy nice things, pay off the mortgage more quickly, study, etc. So I thought that if this failed, I would feel a huge sense of a door closing, hope disappearing, one vision of our future being snatched away and the difficult job of creating a new vision ahead. I would have to come to accept that I would never be a mother and that D and I would never share the joy of creating a new life together.
But that's not exactly what's happened. On Friday afternoon, both D and I mentioned to each other that we would like to try again. D is more sure about this than I am. He doesn't care about the cost. He says he wants us to have a baby more than anything in the world. On the other hand, although I am not ready to give up hope and to start making different plans for our lives, I just don't see the point. We have failed four times (five times if you include the two embryo transfers that we did in our first cycle). I am not sure that I want to get my hopes up and go through the cruel emptiness associated with failure all over again. But at the same time, I can't let this go. I simply can't accept that I will always be childless.
It is too soon to be making any decisions, obviously. We have our review appointment with Dr C in a couple of weeks. I have lots of questions for her. I want to understand why. I want to know if it was my eggs, D's sperm, or just a throw of the dice that didn't come up with the right answer. I want to understand more about the failure of D's vasectomy reversal. Is IVF and ICSI really the only way around this? I want to know whether another attempt is worth it or whether, after this long, we really should just get on with the rest of our lives.
Another complication is that D has applied for a job in another city. He has applied for similar jobs here, but this opening came up and it is what he has always wanted to do. It would be fantastic to see him happy in his work after over 25 years in the same job. So we will wait to see what happens with that before we make any decisions. Moving would be a big upheaval, especially since we have only been in this house since January and buying a new property would be complicated, but I could get very excited about starting again somewhere completely new. There is a fertility clinic in the new city, but it would make sense to wait until we are settled.
In the meantime, I feel empty and sad. It is just not fair. Our neighbour's four-month-old son has been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour and is now facing palliative care for the next year (or two, with a bit of luck). That, too, is unfair. There are people everywhere going through all sorts of painful situations. Sometimes I feel selfish for wanting something so much when others have no choice about the challenges they have to go through. But I cannot see how this hole in our lives will ever be healed if we don't give it another shot.