Before giving birth to me, my mother was pregnant with another baby. She had a miscarriage, and that person wasn’t born. When I was young I used to ask the question: was that my brother or was that me? Who was trying to manifest at that time? If a baby has been lost it means that conditions were not enough for him to manifest and the child has decided to withdraw in order to wait for better conditions. “I had better withdraw; I’ll come back again soon, my dearest.” We have to respect his or her will. If you see the world with eyes like this, you will suffer much less. Was it my brother that my mother lost? Or maybe I was about to come out but instead I said, “It isn’t time yet,” so I withdrew.
Thich Nhat Hahn
When I went to the clinic to have my blood drawn for my beta, I saw Hillary, the lovely nurse whom I hadn’t seen since my unmedicated FET was cancelled back in September. She gave me a hopeful thumbs up and I wrinkled my nose and gave her a thumbs down.
“I’m not pregnant. I can tell you that right now!’ I told her.
“You don’t know that!” she persisted.
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been pregnant twice definitely, probably four times. It’s not my first time at the rodeo and four home tests confirm what I already know: I’m not pregnant. I’m just hoping my beta is under 5, so I can have a glass of something strong tonight…”
Hillary offered to call me as soon as the results came in. And thanks to her, I got my beta result at 11.30am, instead of 3pm like everyone else.
I’d just got V settled into a highchair at a cafe when Hillary called with the news: “It’s negative. Less than 5, so you can definitely have a drink tonight!” My friend, L, appeared as I was saying goodbye. I unceremoniously peeled off my four estrogen patches. I didn’t give a shit who saw my soft belly, it was time to rip those suckers off. The waiter came over and I ordered a latte. My first coffee in weeks.
At first, I was vindicated by my intuition. I felt smug that I’d emailed my RE (overseas this week) right before leaving for the clinic to tell her that I knew I wasn’t pregnant. And then I felt really angry that we have to spend another $5,000 to try again.
Today I feel a bit sad. My period arrived, and although it doesn’t feel like a miscarriage, there’s something about knowing that Embryo 2 is being shed that stirs up feelings in my chest.
Is he already wrapped up in the pad I tossed in the diaper pail, or did my body absorb him? Wait, I thought getting pregnant wasn’t my problem? I thought removing my DNA from the equation meant I could just get pregnant and then, because of the PGS, stay pregnant. I should know better than to think I’d have an easy time of it just because I’ve suffered in the past. Did my body kill this embryo? Is it because I wondered if I was ready for a second child?
I clear away the noise in my head with a simpler conclusion: It didn’t work this time because it was a single embryo that had been frozen for 31 months, and he needed a body that wasn’t violently ill on the day he was transferred into it.
Occam’s razor, bitches! Simply, the conditions were not enough for him to manifest.
♥
It was hot Saturday night at my in-laws’ house, so I slept in just my knickers. I woke up early and watched as V stirred in the crib an arm’s reach from me. She rolled over into child’s pose, and sat up on her heels. She blinked. “Hi Mummy!” she beamed, “Like go in Mama’s bed wif blanket.”
I scooped her up into bed with me. She lay her head on my chest and kissed each of my breasts in turn. “Hello Mama’s neh-neh. Mmm-mah!” She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and asked if she could nurse. I was surprised—it’s been almost two months since she weaned—but I said Sure, and offered her my breast. Smiling, she took my nipple in her mouth, but she’d forgotten how to suckle. Not that there was anything to come out anyway. It felt very different, kind of like walking down a street you used to live on, probably for both of us. She no longer nurses, but she still gets comfort from me.
Then she bit down and I prised my nipple out of her mouth. She decided it was time for reading to her doll; and I decided it was time to put a pot of coffee on the stove. The ache in my areola lingered for a day, the gentle closing of one chapter so we may begin the next.
♥
Edited to add: 30 minutes after this post published, my clinic called to say that as long as my period arrived before November 12th (check! Today is November 7th!) and my lining has reached 8mm by December 5th, we can do a transfer before Xmas.
I start birth control again tomorrow.
What was that about conditions being right to manifest?
I’d not ever really thought of my miscarriages that way but I agree it’s a lovely thought that the baby is waiting for the right time to come along! Good luck with the next round. I seem to recall a set of circumstances that came together at the right time which resulted in V!