We (I) caved

The clinic told us to test 12dpt, we agreed between ourselves to test 10dpt, when I spoke to the clinic about the bleeding they told us we could test 9dpt if we wanted, and when I woke up this morning, 8dpt, I had the urge to know, immediately.  I hadn’t planned on it before hand, but I woke up and asked Bec if we could, so I did.

It was a very clear and definite negative.  Not even a hint of a line.  So we’ve labelled it as over this time.  We know we’ve not reach the official test date yet, and shouldn’t treat it as over until we do, so I’m continuing on with the meds and the abstinence until it’s officially over.

I feel … it’s difficult to say.  I’m a slow burner, I always have been – my emotions are usually the last thing to show in any given situation.  Initially, I feel relieved because the two week wait is over, and I feel like I have known all along that it’s not worked.  Of course, you have a glimmer of hope, you have day dreams about seeing the two lines – that hope has felt like a stone in my shoe, I’ve felt so sure it’s not worked.  So in a way, I feel glad not to be walking on that stone any more.  I keep having moments of ‘could the test have been wrong?‘ and it just feels cruel to think it.

Of course, I’m sad that I’m not pregnant, I’m so sad that our emby didn’t make it, I’m sad that there are more delays to us becoming parents, that our children will be so much younger than their cousins, I’m sad about the thousands of pounds that have gone down the drain, I’m sad that we now have to magic some more money from somewhere, while we’ve still not finished paying off the last round.

But we’re now starting to think about a holiday for next spring.  The thought of a holiday while we’re so desperately in dire straits when it comes to finding the money for another round of IVF seems absurd.  But wholly necessary.  My wife and I need to down tools and go and spend a week somewhere warm together.  Our first years of marriage cannot be spent focusing on this one thing.