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A Closed Chapter

I wasn’t sure I would blog about this. As per usual, I don’t want to and I don’t feel like it, but at this point- why hold back? I’ve shared everything that could possibly be shared and I suppose I need more prayer now than I have needed so far on this long journey.
I published my Today, I am Rachel post on a Tuesday afternoon. But, I had written it on Monday morning.
The original plan had been for me to go to RRC for a blood pregnancy test on Tuesday to be able to receive same day test results.
On Sunday night, as I did my evening progesterone I noticed blood. And I knew that was the end.
I wept.
That was the hardest night. I sobbed myself to sleep. There was no containing it.
Although, there was a small voice. A small, small voice that grew louder and louder as it said, “Courtney, you transferred two babies. Maybe you are just passing one and the other is perfectly fine.”
And then Monday rolled around and so did heavy bleeding.
I called my nurse to tell her and ask if it was necessary for me to come for my blood work still because I knew the answer already, there was no need for any test. Of course, she still wanted me to have blood work done and was being overly optimistic for me i.e “crazier things have happened”. Our compromise was that I would have my blood work done here instead since I didn’t care about same day results anymore.
Then I wrote my post. And wept all day as the love and support, the endless messages, texts, and emails came pouring in. A constant stream. That Tuesday morning was the first time I really regretted and second guessed sharing all of this publicly. Because I really didn’t want to tell everyone that it hadn’t worked. But, then everyone said just the right thing. And Jim and I both were so loved that I was once again reminded of why it has been such a good thing that I have shared everything publicly.
I kept bleeding on Tuesday. I kept bleeding on Wednesday. Naturally, I missed my call from RRC with my results. When I listened to my message my nurse said, “They ran your blood incorrectly(of freaking course) so the test came back “inconclusive”. Your progesterone is at an 11 though, so really, it could go either way. They’re going to run it on their third shift tonight and I’ll call you tomorrow(Thursday) with your results”. I laughed as I thought to myself, “Oooookay you do that nurse Marci. I’m anxiously awaiting my test results since I’ve been on my period since Sunday night. I can’t wait to hear whether I’m pregnant or not.”
I kept bleeding on Thursday. My phone rang around 3. Luckily, Abigail was napping.
This is what I was expecting:

“Hey Courtney, it’s Marci. I’m so sorry, your levels are at a 0. You’re not pregnant. Would you like to talk to Dr. Brabec? How can we help you? How would you like to proceed?”

At which point I’d have said, “Big surprise. No, I don’t need to talk to the Dr. We won’t be continuing any further treatment.” And then I’d ask about my embryos, even though it didn’t really matter, and I’d tell her to be more careful about who they put next to each other in rooms because I’m still reliving having to listen to those twin babies heartbeats the day I was in the office for my OHSS.
Instead, this is what happened:
“Hey Courtney, it’s Marci. We got your test results back. Your hcg levels are at a 6. Which means you’re technically pregnant.”
“Unfortunately, they’re so low and since you’ve been bleeding, you’re having what is called a chemical pregnancy. An embryo must have implanted and started releasing hcg, but then stopped. You’ll need to repeat blood work tomorrow for us to confirm that your levels drop back down to 0.”
So, not only have Jim and I had to deal with the loss of our 8 embryos, but now. NOW, I have to deal with the knowledge that I wasn’t just having a period. I was having a miscarriage. I was losing my baby. Our IVF had worked. A little miracle had implanted. I was having symptoms! Of course, I had attributed them to my progesterone at the time. I couldn’t let myself think otherwise. But, now I know. That was my baby. And then it stopped.
I lost our baby.
I truly, truly believed that if we could just get everything where it needed to be, that this would work. If we could just get enough eggs, and then fertilize them, and then place them exactly where they needed to go, that my body would do the rest correctly. I’m young, I’m healthy, I’ve carried a healthy pregnancy before. That’s what I expected.
And yet, here I am instead.
I feel like I can’t even deal with this. I have spent the last 2 years and over 3 years of my life dealing with “pregnant” or “not pregnant”. I’ve been handling “not pregnant” for 2 years straight and when the bleeding started last Sunday, it didn’t really feel any different than any other month.
But now that we know I was pregnant? And then back to not pregnant? That I now have to cope with loss on top of infertility? It feels like so much more than I can bear.
RRC called me today and let me know that my levels are negative now. So, it’s finally over and done. Our IVF cycle was a success? Failure? I don’t even know how to categorize it.
This will be my final infertility post.
It has been a really long, really hard, and more painful road than I ever could have imagined.
It has been incredibly therapeutic and incredibly important to me to document everything that we’ve gone through while dealing with infertility. But, that time is at an end.
A few people have asked me what our plans are for the future of trying to grow our family and the answer is there are none. We’re just done. We’re a lot poorer. We’re tired. We’re weary. And we’re just done.
We know now that my issue is egg quality. There is nothing that can be done to repair or fix that. I will always deal with infertility until the end of my days. I will always hope and pray that someday another Abigail miracle will happen and that I will get to carry a child to term and hold them in my arms. But, we will not try any longer. We have no plans to adopt, as we have mentioned before. So, now, we are just going to adjust our life dreams, hopes, and plans to being a family of 3.
Thank you for praying for us. Please don’t stop, especially for me, we will need them for a very long time.

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  1. I'm so sorry. My heart hurts for you and Jim and Abigail. I'll be lifting you up to the Father.

  2. I am so sorry, Courtney. I wish I could give you a big hug right now & that those simple words could take your pain away. I can't fathom what you're feeling right now, but I hope you know how strong you are. Praying for you. Your family, your sweet girl. Praying for peace, sweetie.

  3. I pray that Jesus heals your heart as he holds your precious, precious babies in his arms. I believe we will see our babies again. I'm so sorry Courtney. I will continue lifting you up in prayer <3

  4. You guys are in my thoughts so much. This post made my heart heavy, I'm so sorry. Although, I did giggle at your sarcastic quote to Nurse Marci 😉

  5. So I just clicked on your "miscarriage" link and have been reading all the posts listed. I had no idea! I really appreciate your honesty in sharing. I know this is an old post, but I'll be praying for you both! I hate that anyone has to deal with infertility.

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