Empty

There's nothing like being told that you are old over and over again.  Too old.  So old your eggs are petrified.  Yep, I'm 39 and I have petrified eggs.
Ok, they aren't petrified, but they just don't work any more.  I have bad eggs.  The kind of eggs that went down the chute in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
I'm post 4 days of shock and sorrow, so I'm sorry if I sound a little silly.  I just can't cry any more.  Well, yeah I can, but I don't want to. 
Scott and I have been trying for 2 years to get pregnant and finally got to the in vitro fertilization stage.  We saved our tax refund, Scott's bonus, used my credit card and flex spending account to afford this astronomically expensive procedure.  But we had to at least try, even though we had a 40 percent success rate.  (Yeah, that was another time being told I was old.  "Look at this chart that shows how old you are.  You are almost 40, which means this line goes all the way down here for you.  Good luck!")  I was prepared that it might not work, that my uterus might not be sticky enough.  But nothing prepared me for Friday.
I was at school, tracking in, putting things on the wall and taking it easy the day after my egg retrieval.  Everything had gone so well so far, my hormones were perfect, I had 7 follicles, but they got 4 eggs that looked ok so far.  I was probably going to have the transfer on Sunday.  I was nervous but hopeful.  Then they called.  Thank goodness I left the classroom full of the other teacher's kids and went outside to take the call (bad reception in the building).  The embryologist said she was sorry but none of the eggs developed and that was the end.  Just like that, the months of saving and planning and preparing and participation, the weeks of shots and ultrasounds (yay!) and drawing blood (yay to getting stuck at least twice each time), done.  Over.  End of the line.  I felt like a freight train had hit me.  I wasn't sure I heard her right.  "Let me get this straight, none of the eggs developed?"  No, I'm so sorry.  At this point I was sobbing so hard I could hardly breathe.  Just in time, my good friend and coworker Beth came out and swept me into my principal's office.  Luckily only a few children saw the scary teacher sobbing her eyes out.
I spent the next few days laying around crying off and on and feeling horrible.  Why, God?  Why won't you let me get pregnant?  I don't understand.  I've always wanted to be a mother, have children, I think I'd be a pretty darn good mom, too.  Then, to top it all off, Mother's day was two days later and I had invited all of the family over.  Don't get me wrong, I love the mothers in my life and I am truly blessed and wanted to show them how much I love them.  Plus it was good to have a distraction.  But everywhere else, it was in my face.  I couldn't even look at Facebook, ugh.  (Again, I would never take away anyone else's joy in being a mother, its just that it is a hard reminder that I'm not and right now I'm especially sensitive)
I expect in time I will get used to the idea that I will never bear my own child.  But the doctor did say at my appointment today that even though my eggs are bad (naughty eggs!) there is still hope.  I could have a donated egg (um, I don't think so, just as expensive and the chances are about the same as IVF) or a donated embryo (which is not quite as expensive, about 5k, and higher chance of success).  Time is ticking away and I can't wait too long to decide, but right now, I'm at least taking a month off to grieve.
If you are one of my dear dear friends or family who have a child/baby/are expecting, please don't think I resent you.  And please don't feel bad that you have kids and I don't.  But please understand that if I'm around you, I may get weepy or sad.  It's only because I envy what you have, yes, I do envy it.  And I'm so grateful you didn't have to go through what I'm going through.