The Inevitable BFN

I had my beta draw yesterday early in the morning, but it took until almost 5:00 to hear back from the RE's office.  I hadn't taken an HPT, so technically I should have been on pins and needles all day in anticipation for the results.  As much as I kept checking my phone for the call, I was also repeating to myself, It's definitely negative.  Don't even start getting your hopes up.  There is just no way. 

There was no reason at all to suspect that it was negative, other than the fact that it is always negative.  Everything went perfectly and they still can find nothing wrong with me.  But it's pretty obvious that IUIs are not going to work for us, so I try to remind myself that I am just going through the motions to complete the study and that I shouldn't get hopeful.

Nevertheless, I was already thinking about how I would tell C if it were positive.  He is not as involved in IF treatment as many other husbands.  I mean, he does everything he is supposed to do and he is very supportive, but he doesn't know what cycle day it is or what my levels are, etc.  He knew that I had an appointment yesterday morning for a blood draw, but he didn't really know what for.  Try as I hardest to remain pessimistic and anticipate the disappointment, I started imagining what I would do and, sadly, I have known what I would do for a long time. 

I have always envisioned surprising him with a gift.  Back when we were married, I had custom Phillies jerseys made as a gift for him with our newly-shared last name.  He was so excited.  I wasn't 100% sure that I would change my name, but it was really important to him, so the jerseys were kind of a double gift - an awesome shirt and a name change.  For years I have imagined going out and buying a custom infant jersey with our last name and giving it to him as a gift.  I couldn't help but think about getting a BFP, confirming it with further blood draws, then getting him the shirt for his birthday, which is just two weeks away.

I was in the car on my way home from work when the call finally came in, and even though I had attempted to prepare myself for this for weeks, it was still like a punch in the throat.  I only had less than an hour to go home and collect my thoughts before Zumba and, as much as I didn't really want to go, I dragged my ass there and I am glad that I did.  Even though I might not have been in the best mood, it got my mind off the situation, at least for a while. 

Later that evening, I had made plans to meet up with some old friends at a bar and catch up.  I would have to rush home, get changed, then hurry over and I was quickly losing steam.  Again, I dragged my butt to the outing, though, and my friends couldn't have been better.  I had a great night and didn't end up getting home until almost midnight.  It was totally worth the sleepiness I felt today.

At work today, it was a little rough.  I have two co-workers who are about to pop, and two more teachers on my grade team who are due in the spring.  Not only will I have the joy of watching five babies arrive in the next few months (one of my co-workers is expecting twins), but I will be working my ass off during their maternity leaves to make up for their absence. I am the only woman in our immediate group that is not a mother, and the conversations at lunch are literally about nothing else.

All this, and I still haven't broken it to C.  I honestly think he is much more perceptive than appearances and he may already know.  Or at least he certainly suspects...

I am really working on staying positive and I have been busting my ass with workouts for the past few weeks.  Regardless of what the doctors say, there is a constant nagging voice in my head that says this whole IF business might be all fat-related.  They can find nothing else wrong with me.  Let's be real, obesity seems to affect everything, and I have seen research that it can affect fertility.  That makes me feel guilty, like this whole thing was in my hands all along.  Obviously, losing weight would benefit me majorly, so it's worth it no matter what.  But at least if I turn out to still be infertile, I can't blame myself anymore...