I knew the call would not be a good one. When you are focused for two weeks on every small sign within your body, you know what is coming. The rush to the lab for the morning blood draw. The waiting on pins and needles all day for the phone to ring. Continuously turning the screen on to assure it did not turn off accidentally. And then the nurse, with her sweet, soft voice, "Honey, I don't have good news. The pregnancy test was negative."
After 11 IUI and IVF procedures over five years, and only one happy phone call when we got pregnant with our daughter, this should not be a shock. I have long ago stopped being angry at those who get pregnant on a whim. Stopped questioning why it is so hard for us. Gave up whining when I have to create detailed medication charts and stick myself with needles every night. But yet, that one simple word, "negative," still gives me chills.
Our friends ask us how we can stay positive, how we can want to try again and again. Because we do not have any other choice. This is our path in life to our family. Yes, I still have to hole up in my work bathroom and let it all out for five minutes when I see a photo of a friend's new adorable baby. Yes, I give a nod and a big smile when people unwittingly ask us if Lila is our only child, my heart dropping as I think of all of our babies in Heaven waiting to be held in my arms one joyous day. Yes, I have to repeat the same Bible verses over and over to myself, creating a chant about the Lord's blessings and promises, to will myself to keep my head up and moving forward.
We are not done trying yet. But for today, I pour a big glass of wine, and let myself cry a little for those babies who will not be held in my arms this lifetimes.