Counting down the hours and minutes

My positivity seems to have been short-lived as the past couple of days I have been feeling the weight of a kind of dread. I know what’s coming tomorrow at the next scan and I don’t want to process it. 

I’ve tried my best to continue on as though everything was fine and that my next scan would show some great growth and development but I’m almost certain that’s not going to be the case. I’m so sad I don’t even know how to express it. And I’m tired. Tired of all the trying, the invasive treatments, the waiting, the pausing regular life and then no good results to show from it. 

I can’t help but wonder why does this fate befall me. I thought I was due a success this time, I really did. I want this so badly and I thought that this would really help to weigh things in my favour. But it turns out this is not the case. I’ve been ultra-conservative in everything I’ve done – no alcohol, caffeine, excessive sugar, processed foods, lots of rest, the only exercise being walking (no gym or even yoga), no sex (that includes no self-loving); I even refused to drink tap water and have been drinking bottled water exclusively. What an idiot I am to have believed that this would work. 

So here we are a full year later from starting the IVF treatments and actually three years on from the first medical intervention (I had surgery to remove a fibroid before all of this) and what have we got to show for it? Nothing except a heavily depleted bank balance, a soft, damaged body and an empty soul. Is it worth it? Well it would be if there was a baby at the end of it, but otherwise no.