"It says not pregnant," he said.
I'm not sure I responded. I don't even think I looked at him. I was leaning against a stool and I just sort of collapsed on top of it. I stared at the floor for a minute while we occupied the space together, silently.
"Are you sure?"
I started waiting for the episode of Friends to play out when Phoebe tells Rachel her pregnancy test is negative, and then when Rachel cries because she's so sad, Phoebe tells her the truth (she is pregnant) and now Rachel knows how she truly feels about being pregnant. I looked at David for a minute waiting for him to say, "I lied before! It's positive!" He never did. He just stared back at me.
The tears came and went about 20 times that night. There are no words to describe the pain I felt for losing something I never had. It just seemed like the path: We start trying, I get diagnosed, we make a plan, I write a blog, and boom. But no boom. No nothing.
The next morning, the entire doctor's office knew the second they saw me. I'm sure my eyes were bloodshot and instead of a perky little greeting of some sort, I just mumbled hello. I looked like a mess, and I ALWAYS looked cute for the doctor's office before. I finally said, "We took a test."
"You did? Oh no! Was it negative?"
Enter your own sarcastic comment here.
"Did you take one of those 5-days-early tests?"
"Yes. I did."
"Maybe you drank too much water beforehand? Diluted the test?"
"No. I didn't."
"Well, there's still a chance that it was just plain wrong."
"Not much, I don't think."
The nurse sat me down for the blood test. I had to sqeeze a squishy ball while she found a vein. And what was the squishy ball in the shape of, you ask? A big squishy sperm, of course.
David took the other two squishy balls, a bull and a ball respectively, and began a short circus show just for me so I wouldn't look at the needle. While the bull was trying to balance on the ball, I stared that sperm in the eyes (yeah, it had eyes) while I squeezed. For a moment, our gaze locked and I said in my head to that sperm, "Listen. I am doing everything I can here. Pills, shots, positions...the least you can do is swim. Do you need directions? A more clearly marked path? It's your only job, so I'd really appreciate it if you could figure out what you need to get the job done quickly and correctly. We're all counting on you." Now, maybe that was too much pressure for the little guy. But seriously, someone had to lay down the law. And who better than me?
She drew the blood before I could finish our "conversation" and sent me on my way. I stopped and chatted with one nurse about how to proceed and was sick at the thought of doing all this over again. And now that I knew this first round didn't work, there was NO telling how many times we would have to do it all again. The fear became infinite.
I spent about 3 days on the couch. I tried to work, and I tried to make dinner, but I couldn't do anything. I was paralyzed with sadness. When I finally woke up one morning feeling less that horrendous, I decided that this next round would be different. I wasn't going to set myself up again. My day would include more than doctor's visits and carefully written calendars. I would cook dinner and visit my friends on the weekends. And I was NOT going to blog everyday about "BabyGate" anymore. Sure, it could make it's way in to every other post or so, but my life is so much more than making babies. To tell you the truth, maybe it was MY stress that scared those poor little swimmers off. They probably took one look around and said, "Well, hell, it feels like a pressure cooker in here! This is too much. I don't want to swim. I just want to sit down and think about my short little life."
And so, we begin another round, another hopeful month. We are so grateful to everyone who has supported our choices thus far, and I am personally so grateful to everyone who follows the story. I have received many letters of encouragement and advice that have all given me faith that blogging is one thing that will get me through this crazy adventure. Stay tuned.