The Disappointment
February 2017
After two weeks of HELL, the day finally arrives.
I have a scheduled appointment for a blood test, but in order to avoid a humiliating public display of sorrow I give in and do a home pregnancy test.
I don’t want to take it.
I don’t want to see another negative result, but I would prefer to grieve privately with my husband at home instead of calling him at work to tell him it was negative.
I am shaking as I pee on the stick first thing in the morning.
My heart is beating outside of my chest.
Unfortunately, all my ‘pregnancy’ symptoms have given me a sliver of hope.
I watch with baited breath as a single line appears.
NEGATIVE.
AGAIN.
I can’t count how many times I have seen that result.
I can’t breathe.
I go out to the living room and lay listlessly on the couch. Jarod finally wakes up and comes out. He can tell by looking at me what the result was. He starts to cry and I find myself sobbing into his chest. I am thankful that we had this moment alone. Somehow he pulls himself together and goes to work.
An hour later I drive to the clinic for my blood test. One of my friends reassures me that many people have had negative tests at home, but can still have a positive blood test. I am becoming deeply resentful of false hope. This emotional roller coaster is draining my soul. Anxiety is now taking over. Usually, when I get anxious I use mindfulness or some sort of activity to distract myself before those emotions get out of control. But today, I have lost all control. For six hours I stare at my phone, anxiously waiting for my HCG results. A part of me is grateful that I broke down and took the pregnancy test at home because at least I’ve started to prepare myself for bad news.
FINALLY the phone rings.
The nurse is solemn.
I know the answer.
“I’m so sorry hun,” she says “but you are not pregnant.”
I swallow back tears. “I figured I wasn’t.” I push the words out forcefully. My throat is closing up.
She is gentle and empathetic. She reassures me that it is normal for the first cycle not to work. She encourages me to have a good cry and to gather up the courage to come back and try again. “The first fall is the hardest, ” she emphasises.
I thank her for her kind words and hang up the phone.
I call Jarod at work and can’t believe that I have to tell him this news over the phone, on his first week at his new job.
I was sobbing at first but suddenly I lose control. I start to scream – mostly at myself.
“THAT’S WHAT I GET FOR HOPING! IT’S ALL MY FAULT! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Jarod sobs on the other line.
“I NEVER WANT TO GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN! I can’t believe I even let my guard down! HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO STUPID? What is wrong with me? I AM SO STUPID FOR BELIEVING THAT SOMETHING COULD POSSIBLY WORK FOR US. I AM SO DUMB. I WON’T DO THIS AGAIN!”
Jarod keeps sobbing and I keep screaming. I have lost control. I am SO angry I can’t even hold it in anymore. I scream and scream and scream. And Jarod sits silently sobbing, still not knowing what to say.
“I can’t believe I am putting you through this. I am SO sorry. You deserve so much better. ”
He continues to sob. “Babe, I am sorry that YOU are going through this too.”
For a brief moment I want him to go; I want him to move on with his life. I want him to have a family and I believe that it’s all my fault that he’s going through this horrible, painful crisis. He deserves better. I know it will break him if I tell him to move on: to find someone else. But in that moment of irrational pain I want to suffer alone. I don’t want to ‘hurt’ him anymore and I don’t want to drag him along on this journey with me.
