My husband and I have been trying for a little over two years. It wasn't until about 18 months into trying that we thought we had broken the nasty cycle. We got pregnant. 5 weeks into it, we were delighted. 5 weeks and 1 day into it, still delighted. Then I had some cramping on one side and some spotting. I went in for an ultrasound. Given my history of not getting pregnant, they wanted to see me. I went in alone because my husband was at work. They told me they suspected I had an ectopic pregnancy. I went home that night to think about it but couldn't sleep for fear that my pregnancy would kill me. The next day, we went in - together this time - and were told conclusively that it was ectopic. We decided to terminate right then and there and I had my (painful) shots of methotrexate.
Fast forward a few weeks. I'm still in mourning, trying to fake being ok to the rest of the world. My husband's brother calls my husband to tell him the great news: they're pregnant. No "sorry to break the news to you, I know this is tough on you." Just "delighted, we're pregnant." Turns out they got pregnant the week we had to terminate.
They have my baby.
This past cycle was my first IVF cycle and it ended in a big fat fucking negative. Fast forward to yesterday (about a week and a half after I got my negative blood draw result). A friend of mine who has a daughter and who has been trying unsuccessfully for only 2 months to make baby # 2 told me: I'm pregnant. Great. She got pregnant the week my IVF was failing. Guess what.
She has my baby.
I will wait with baited breath because I know it's coming: someone else I know well in real life who hasn't been dealing with infertility will announce a pregnancy with a due date at the end of October. I will then know where my second IVF embryo ended up.
Someone else will have my baby.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
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