A note about the final step of IVF - the pregnancy test

Hi folks...

I've had a few questions about this...mostly because I have been so open about the whole process of IVF, what am I going to do about the last step?  The pregnancy test.

I've said it before but it bears saying again, PLEASE DON'T ASK ME IF I AM PREGNANT.  Trust me, when we know and are positive and are ready, we'll hire a sky writer!

Now here's why I can say that...a few reasons:

The pregnancy test that the doctor does will tell us that we are "chemically pregnant".  However, if we cross that barrier, then they'll continue to monitor me until they actually hear a heartbeat and finally pass me off to my OB.  So that said, I won't "officially" know on Day 28 that we are really pregnant.  I probably won't know for another month or so.  Grant me the serenity to deal with that as I will.  I will try my hardest not to go quiet altogether, but if you get so called "fluff" pieces, bear with me.

If I took a "pee test," it's very possible it could give me a false positive because some of the drugs that I will be on can create that outcome.  I haven't yet decided if we'll do this or not before the doctor's blood test.  What could be worse than having a $10 test tell you you are pregnant, celebrating, and then having a doctor tell you that you aren't.  (Besides, I don't trust pregnancy tests anymore anyway.  I don't think they work.)

And the big one I think takes a little bit more explaining....when a woman becomes naturally pregnant, without doctors and drugs and everything we have been through, it feels like most of them are "pregnant until proven otherwise," from my experience anyway.  For an infertile, that journey is very different.  It's probably backwards in fact.  We are non-believing until.....until the heartbeat, until the first ultrasound, until we know the sex, until the next ultrasound, ... until the baby is in our arms.  We've been through so much to get to that point that we often feel that it is easier to accept if we doubt the situation and are proved wrong, versus believing we actually are with child, and are proved wrong not to be pregnant.

So, there will not be a blog post on Day 28 exclaiming that "we are pregnant" or even that "IVF didn't work" whichever the case may be.  Both scenarios will be hard to swallow.  I know that sounds odd, but it's very true.  There will not be a huge text going out screaming we are with child on Day 28.  And there will be no happy phone calls, because even if the doc says we are preggers, it still has a chance to go away.  And then I have to call everyone back and tell them, "I know I said I was pregnant, but now I'm not."  That's 100 times more difficult than just saying, "nope, it didn't work this time" in the first place.

In addition, we've been waiting a long time to say those wonderful words and I'm not quite sure about J, but personally I have a slew of fun ways to tell our family and friends.  I want to be standing in front of them when I either utter those words, or show them a sign, or whatever I have locked in my brain (and no I will not tell you!).  I want to be there for the excitement.  I want to be there for the tears of joy.  And I want to be there for the hugs and jumping up and down.

I had lunch with Busted Kate over the weekend and she shared my sentiment.  Now she has something that I haven't had until yet, a full term pregnancy under her belt, complete with healthy baby boy and more miscarriages than she cares to recall (I'm imagining).  She said that up until Tucker was in her arms, and even now that he is 5 months old, she is still in shock that he is her child.  That she delivered a baby.  That she was pregnant and made it to the finish line.  She probably told people she was pregnant the first time.  And then the baby was lost, and she had to go back and tell them of that news.  The next time she probably waited longer, and the cycle repeated...each portion growing longer...waiting to tell longer that she was with child, and waiting to tell again that the baby wasn't going to be born.  I can't imagine the latter...literally, can't fathom how that feels.  I hope I never have to know.  But I might.

So.  Please.  I beg of you.  Don't ask.  You can pray.  You can tell me you are there for me.  But don't ask.  Let me tell you.  Let us tell you in our time.  Whether it be happy or sad.  We have to do it our way.

I'm grateful for you everyday folks.  You don't even know.  Now with that off my chest, I'm going back to bed.  This was writing itself in my head, and I needed to get it out for fear that I wouldn't sleep tonight.

Bless you for traveling down this road with me.  Hopefully our journey is taking a turn for the better straight ahead.