The Never-ending Storm

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t overcome the things that life throws at you. I think at some point you just have to stand like a statue in a storm and wait for it to pass. Not hide, not fight it, just let it happen. 

When my sister-in-law was attacked in July it was the start of a nightmare that I still haven’t woken up from. There have been some good moments sandwiched in the middle but honestly, these past couples months have just sucked. 

No rhyme and not yet a reason. 

Last Thursday we transferred two “perfect” embryos. The lab said that our embryos were winning the beauty pageant. The transfer went smooth and things felt like they were starting to get a little brighter. 

Over the weekend, what I thought was muscle pain from walking in the boot from the wreck where I broke three bones in my foot turned into the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. Monday I was admitted to the hospital for a massive blood clot that spans three veins and goes from my calf to my thigh. 

Thursday, they did my beta. We knew it was early but my RE thought it would be better to know ASAP given the circumstances. It came back a 10. The nurse said it could still go up and that she was hopeful and that we needed to have it re-done on Saturday. 

It is now Saturday and I’m still here. I was just taken off the blood thinner drip in my IV this morning and converted to injections. The did my next beta and I knew as soon as I heard my nurses voice that it was bad news. 

The beta did not double. 

She said I have to stay on all medications and they will re-do it on Tuesday just to be sure but I know that is simply protocol and their due diligence. 

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t crushed. I wanted the nurse to hook up my IV again and give me something to numb the pain. I wanted to rip off my estrogen patches off and throw the PIO out of the third story hospital window. 

But, here I stand (well lay) and I just have to let it happen. I have to go through these motions and just wait for the storm to pass. 

Now don’t think I’m just laying here feeling sorry for myself. Over the past two months I am reminded of the fight that is inside me and my family, and I am reminded of how my husband always has the right things to say, and that his arms wrapped around me make the storm a little easie to bear. 

We still have 8 beautiful embryos on ice, 4 of which were so great they were frozen on day 5. 

I now can focus on getting out of this damn hospital and getting back to some sort of normal and then doing it all over again. I truly believe this transfer was working until I was admitted into the hospital and put on some pretty serious high doses of blood thinners.

We will never know…


10 thoughts on “The Never-ending Storm

  1. Oh girl…. My heart breaks for you, for this unfair, exhausting journey, and for the hope that was crushed. I know full well how a donor egg cycle could get a person’s hope up. I was there, two times. Relieved to know that you still have a great number of embryos left, but still, why couldn’t it just work this time? Thinking of you, friend, and hope that the next transfer will be a success. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I am very sorry to hear that.
    However, might this be the missing part of the puzzle?
    Have you had extensive bloodwork done following your miscarriages and/or DVT?
    Did you test positive on any factors known to cause BOTH, DVTs and recurrent miscarriages/chemical pregnancies (i.e. Factor V Leiden mutation, anti-phospholipid syndrome)? If known, these can be controlled during pregnancy with daily injections of heparin. It might be worthwhile to discuss this with your fertility specialist if you haven’t already done so.
    Keeping my fingers crossed for you!


  3. Oh, no. I so hoped that you would get a break in here, and it seems so massively unfair that on top of the loss of your sister-in-law, your horrible car accident, now you have a DVT and the loss of your beautiful embryos. I am so glad that you got treatment for the blood clot, that sounds unbelievably scary. I’m so sorry about your loss. Your loss compounded by losses. I am so glad you have those beauties on ice, but it’s okay to mourn what happened now. It doesn’t make you seem ungrateful or whiny. It’s a lot to deal with all at once. I am thinking of you and hoping so hard for a turn in events, for a break in the storm. So many strong virtual hugs sent your way.


  4. I’m sorry. Your whole family has been through so much lately. I keep thinking of your poor sister-in-law and the daughter now left behind without her Mum at such a young age. Your blood clot sounded scary!! At least you have the other frozen embryos like you say. The best thing is probably to take some time off and then when you feel strong and ready again, do a FET. hugs.


  5. My heart aches for you. It seems like when it rains it pours but I love that you found a rainbow in this. You do still have 8 more fighters waiting for their time. Prayers for a comforted heart and a fast recovery.


  6. I’m so sorry to hear about your beta and the blood clot. You have been going through quite a lot recently. I hope you take some time to heal. Hugs.


  7. uggh I am so so sorry to hear that! It is so gut-wrenching to read because while I haven’t been through as much as you have lately, we also experienced a chemical pregnancy and it was so awful to go through that my heart hurts for you and all the things you’ve had to face in the last few months. I am keeping you in my prayers.


  8. Pingback: MTHFR | the OCD infertile

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