We are officially unsuccessful with our second round of IUI.
I didn't blog a lot about this round because there wasn't a lot to talk about. For the most part, round two was exactly the same as round one, with the elimination of a severe urinary tract infection. I got the same back pain as last time and went in to go get tested, but there was nothing there. So WHEW!
The only change this cycle was that I didn't feel well at all starting on 7 DPO and I felt like that was a good sign! I don't really ever get nauseous, so the first time I've felt I was going to throw up was a hopeful moment. But I guess it was a false symptom.
Last time, I took a urine test the morning of my beta (blood) test, and when it was negative, it was kind of like ripping off the bandaid prematurely. It hurt a lot to go through the day knowing I was going to find out I wasn't pregnant, and that was super not great. So this time, thinking that I was going to get good news, I waited and wanted to hear it from the fertility clinic.
Folks, waiting for the clinic to call and eventually finding out that all the symptoms we'd both seen sucked so hard on so many levels. I think next time, I'll pee on the stick. Then, I at least don't have to wait it out.
But worse than that was experiencing the joint disappointment with my husband. Here's the thing - he was convinced it had been successful. We both were. On top of that, he's a frigging rock for me. We've been together about 8 years now, and in that time, the man has never let me see him sad. I don't know if it's machismo or just that he knows that my emotions are always a little in turmoil, but he puts on a brave, happy face for me.
Today, he called me during lunch with shaking anticipation in his voice to see if the clinic had called me yet. They hadn't, but I could hear his breathless hope. And I promised I'd let him know as soon as I knew.
I knew I wouldn't, regardless. I have a gift for him that I plan to leave out when I find out I'm pregnant, and no matter the news, I wasn't going to disrupt his thoughts while driving home. Regardless, of good or bad, that's distracted driving there.
I found out about an hour before I expected him home, and I wasn't expecting to cry at a "no." I mean, I've had 27 previous no's in a row, so why would one more hurt so much? Because this time, I had symptoms. And I had hope. Nothing hurts more than hope being ripped from your soul.
Or so I thought.
I thought I hurt as much as I could until he came home and I was laying in bed in the dark praying that God take the pain away. When I told him, he was just - so sad. Like mopey sad. And when you go from a spouse who never seem sad to a man who is visibly mopey, the reality really hits you.
At first, I had tricked myself into believing I was the only one who was hurt by all this, but seeing him as close to tears as I ever have kind of drove the whole thing home and it took my heart.
I don't know how to deal with that kind of disappointment again.