Do trains have wheels? They do, right? Of course they do. Right? Noah is the conductor of our hope train right now. And I so appreciate everyone else who is on board. But my honest truth is that I'm kind of...running along side. I haven't been able to stop crying since yesterday. I woke up crying. There is just fear water flowing out of my face right now, and as much as I want to only see the stories of a 23 beta that turned into a healthy baby, (thank you all for your positive stories of low betas becoming beautiful babies. It's what got Noah to find his conductor's hat. That and the fact that he really likes that denim railroad stripe pattern. And hats) I also know that a 23 can become a 31 and then another crack in my already broken heart.
I feel like my period has been wanting to come but is being held off by the progesterone shots. I've been feeling that for a few days, and all I can think about is all the times I've felt pregnant. All the times I was convinced and I was dead wrong. I can only hope that my maternal intuition is like my sense of direction, totally off. If I say make a left, you can place your money on a right turn being the correct move. Maybe if I feel Aunt Flow knocking on the door I will actually be wrong this time.
It's been interesting to read the different comments (thank you everyone so much for the amazing amount of support). Some people feel like a congrats is in order, while others say, "I'm sorry." We all see a situation for what it is, and then we put our spin on it. Some of us jump to the worst case scenario (I put myself in that boat, initially at least), while others remain wholeheartedly optimistic (Noah's the captain of that ship, he also likes wearing crisp blue and white stripes). Sometimes hope is all we have, and sometimes the reality of a situation makes hope feel near impossible. Right now my glass feels half full and half empty at the same time. I don't think that how I interpret it is going to change the outcome. No matter how hard I cross my fingers or how badly I want Momo to stick--it either will or it won't. Crying about the uncertainty isn't going to help me either. In fact, it has given me a raging headache. So the best I can be is completely neutral. I'm open to the chance that this could work out, and realistic to the possibility that it won't. None of this is about fair or deserving or thinking one way or another. It's about accepting each moment for what it is and getting through one step at a time and reminding myself that I'm going to be ok. Somehow. I think. Right now I just have to wait. If I hold my breath I will drop dead, and if I continue to ball my eyes out I will feel like crap. I have to keep breathing and stay grounded in what is true. Yesterday I got a number. It was low, but it wasn't zero. It's the closest I've ever gotten. That's all I know that is fact. I might as well be somewhat optimistic because the alternative feels even worse.
This situation feels oddly familiar. I have a video clip from last year of a moment where good news quickly became bad news. The feeling I have my stomach is kind of similar to how I felt that week. During our first IVF cycle, there was a good news/bad news roller coaster that we rode for about five days after retrieval as our embryos were fighting to become something. One day they were all beautifully fertilized, the next day they were fragmented, the next day one stopped developing but one that was really fragmented started looking like it was correcting itself. It was absolute torture. Noah and I hung on until the plug was pulled. Every night we held hands and tried to imagine a miracle. Since it was our first IVF cycle, we just didn't know what to expect. Years later, the only thing I do know is to expect the unexpected. This is not our first rodeo. It's crazy that even after all this time I can be...surprised. I kind of thought beta day would give us clarity. An answer to which direction we were heading. But I guess not.
So I will put my energy into staying calm and keeping the negativity out of my body and mind. My body is fighting for Momo to stay, and Momo fighting to be something, and tomorrow I'll know if we both won.