I just talked to my clinic and got my blood results from a few weeks back – my AMH is 0.15, FSH is 7.71 and Estrodial is 108, which means I officially fall into the category of “unsuitable for IVF”. I always thought IVF was the last resort and here I am once again contemplating what you do when you’re too far gone even for the last resort to be an option.
I thought I was prepared for this. I knew it would be hard, but I thought I was ready for the finality of it. Turns out I’m not. There was one last shred of secret hope growing in my heart like a tough and hardy weed, and tearing it out has reopened the wound and I am drowning.
It’s so unfair. It’s just so fucking unfair.
I have learned the course of this grief by now – this pain has a road map. I know I’ll spend the rest of the day huddled into myself, quietly crying and trying to hold it all together. The night will pass sleeplessly as I’m washed with waves of guilt and anger and loss. (Thank god my husband is out of town. He’s seen this scene a few too many times now, and it makes him feel helpless and alone). Tomorrow will pass in a gray haze of sadness and the next day, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to start trying to rebuild myself and incorporate this new knowledge into my new self concept. The knowledge that I am barren. At 36. That I carried one child that was my own flesh and blood, I lost it, and that I’ll never have that chance again.
I know I’m extremely lucky, that I have my sister and that she is willing to donate her eggs to us. But right now I think I’m just going to let myself mourn for all that I’ve lost – today, and through this whole process. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to be brave again.