Rough weekend.

Friday started off a good day.  I had the day off from work, and I went with my friend Deena to the temple.

 When I came out I had 3 missed calls.  Man, I was popular.

One was from my Fertility Treatment Center asking me to call them back.  I kinda got the feeling that this wouldn't be good news.   I usually talk with the same IVF coordinator Dayna.  She knows me, and I know her.  There's a comfort level there.  But she was on vacation, so I spoke with a different lady.  And I don't know if that affected how I took the news or not.  But it might have played  a factor.

Our genetic testing results came back.

Out of our 2 embryos, one was normal.  One was abnormal.

Our abnormal embryo had a deletion of the long arm on chromosome 12.   What the heck does that mean?  The lady couldn't tell me, but told me to call the lab to speak with a genetic counselor.   But it didn't sound good.  I googled it.  That didn't really help.  It's a rare chromosome disorder- and they can't really tell you what specifically it causes.  But it's a lot of problems.  And that's even if it results in a live birth.  This embryo was missing over 2,000 genes.

And by the way, she mentions, we still need to schedule 3 more procedures before the transfer.

What????

As far as I knew, my next "procedure" was getting the embryo transfer at the end of January.  I thought I was doing my meds in December, and staring the shots/ ultrasounds/ blood draws in January, and then doing the transfer.

Nope.

Apparently, they need to do a sonohysterogram (where they inject saline into my uterus), an HSG test (where they inject dye into my uterus and fallopian tubes).   Both of which I had last year- but apparently they need to be repeated once a year.  And I didn't do well with these last year.  I remember I had to take valium to get through the HSG test.

AND, by the way, an endometrial disruption.  (That just doesn't sound good.)  I asked if it hurt.  And she said there was some discomfort.  (Which means yes.)

Welcome to me being overwhelmed again.

We only have 1 good embryo left, oh and by the way, you need 3 more procedures before you even get to January.

That night was our ward Christmas party, which I was supposed to bring cookies to.  I had been looking forward to it, because all the kids were going to act out the Nativity story.  So of course, it was going to be adorable.  Plus, my nephew was in it.

After I got this news, I was kind of numb.  I did have other plans for the day, but I went home instead.  I made the cookies, took them to the church, and left.  I just couldn't be around people.

When my hubby got home from work, I told him about this phone call.  And started crying.  I get tired of crying so much.  Sometimes you cry so much, you just feel empty inside.

I didn't want to do this anymore.  We only had 1 egg.  I had to get 3 more procedures.  And we all know, I don't do well with "procedures" that cause "discomfort".  I can barely get through getting my blood drawn without hyperventilating.   I didn't want to do this.

I spent the weekend juggling feelings of numbness, anger, and sadness.

I went to a friend's house on Sat night, and that was during my angry stage.  She made the comment that I can't be angry.  To which I replied, Oh you bet I can.  It's one of the stages of grief I have to work through.  In addition, a marriage counselor once told me that anger is a secondary emotion.  It's usually masking pain or fear.   Or both in my case.  So yes, I was angry.  I had to deal with being down to one embryo.  I had fears that what if I went through all this, and that one embryo didn't even survive being defrosted?  What if this was all for nothing??

I needed to work through my emotions.  I needed to feel angry.  And sad.   And not bury those feelings inside.  I needed to experience them in order to work through them.  But I also needed strength and a desire to keep going.  Which I did not have.

 There's a scene in a pioneer movie that shows a woman who had just lost a baby stopping on the trail and not wanting to go any further.  That was me.  I felt that.

Saturday night, it was my turn to pray.  I didn't want to.  I didn't want to talk about it.  I didn't want to feel the pain.  I was just going to say a neutral prayer.  And not talk about any of this.   But I broke down and asked for help.  I asked for strength, and courage.  I cried and prayed for the desire to persevere.  Because I didn't have it.

Sunday morning, I was still feeling down, like I couldn't do this.  I was really having a hard time.  It was fast Sunday, so I texted my family members since I knew they would be fasting/ praying anyway.  I asked for their prayers.  Mainly that I would have the strength to get through these next 2 months.  And that after the transfer, that I would have enough faith to accept God's will if this all doesn't work.

That's the hardest part.  First, figuring out God's will for me.  And second, accepting it.  Letting go of my plans.  And understanding that this is out of my control.  And turning my fears/hopes/worries/dreams to the Lord, and trying to understand that whatever happens will be for the best in the long run.