On June 12th, 2023, I nervously walked into the lab to get my blood drawn to finally find out if I was pregnant after waiting 11 days.

At 1ish pm, I received an email that our results were in. Nervously I opened my laptop and rushed to the Quest website, where I opened the results and called my husband to review them with me, unfortunately, the results were nothing we ever thought we would prepare ourselves for… negative.

My husband and I sat staring at the computer screen in disbelief, ensuring I read the results correctly even though it was written in plain sight.
I’m not pregnant.

It felt like the wound of losing Yvette had opened again. I had to grieve another loss of who could have been our living baby, and I wasn’t ready for this.
I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t stop beating myself up for what happened.
My husband and I held each other like we did when we found out Yvette no longer had a heartbeat.

I’m not pregnant, and it was all my fault, but I couldn’t figure out what I did wrong.

And then, our IVF coordinator called us with the results, and it was another reminder that we weren’t pregnant.

My husband and I didn’t know what else to do but drink our feelings away. 2 margaritas for me and 3 long island iced teas for him. What sucks is that substances only numb the pain for a few hours; it’s not enough time.

Everyone on social media kept rooting for us even though we received our negative results, so I had to tell everyone what happened because seeing those “I know this is your time” or “I have so much hope for you” was becoming too difficult to read. I could no longer deal with social media for a few days but eventually deactivated my account. I was tired of seeing so many women pregnant and having a successful transfer that I said, “fuck this! I can’t continue to see this hurtful content.”

Therapy has been challenging; I feel completely numb. After the first two days, I haven’t been able to process my feelings or even remotely think about what happened. I’m sure I dug a hole so deep in my brain that I couldn’t find the compartment to process the loss of our embaby.

My therapist says it’s important for me to talk about what happened, but I’m not in the mindset or mood to talk about what happened. I also have lost a massive amount of motivation in my life. It’s hard for me to get out of bed, work, do homework, work out, cook, clean, literally anything you can think of.
I’m trying to take this one day at a time. I’m allowing myself to feel like shit for these 2 weeks (which is still not enough time), but then I need to get my shit together because I plan on doing another transfer. I have an appointment with my IVF doctor in a few days. I will create a list of questions and see the following steps recommended.

I hope to do another round of IVF in September in hopes that the third time will be the fucking charm!