...and no cigar.

Actual post date and time: 3/11/09 @ 7:06 PM (changed to order the two posts properly)

First beta WAS a point. A fraction. This one was 0.01. 3/11/09 at 3:19 pm, our journey ends.

"You don't pregnancy."

I,I,I called him, not him, me. Wanted to confirm I can quit these blasted hormones cold turkey.

Trying to get Dr. Li to tell me he was so sorry it didn't work out for us:

Me: (consciously attempting to manipulate it out of him as it wasn't among the first three sentences he uttered) "We'll, I guess we'll never be parents then."

Him: (pause... still no sorry) "Well, stop the hormones, you'll get your period in 2-3 days. Why don't you come by and pick up your records in case you want to try again later. Don't let the door hit you on the back side."*

Sorry to any docs out there, but docs ARE arrogant. And Chinese doctors, FORGETABOUTIT. Dr. Li, I trust you did everything and more an American doc would have done. But just as people see true colors of character upon break ups, oh boy. Your bedside manners need some brushing up there, doc.

I'm not a bawling wreck. (Anymore.) We've stretched this grieving process out long before we took this last ditch stab at getting pregnant here. I'm proud of our bravery in diving into the eye of the storm again. In ripping the scab off the old wound. What came out of the ART we attempted here was not a baby, but was a rearranging of our emotions involved in being infertile.

We reopened our hearts and rendered ourselves vulnerable and yearning once again. Felt the pain of the parental voids we were seeking to fulfill. By reexamining our infertile experience via blogging, then discussing what I blogged, by experiencing the ups and downs once again, we opened our overstuffed and disorganized infertile closet, basketballs springing out at our heads. We looked around the room at the strewn about mess. We pointed at the old mementos and reminisced about the good and the bad we saw splayed all around us. Then we threw away crap that we didn't want anymore. We saved the special things and put them away in a loving and organized fashion where we can retrieve them without the explosion happening.

Now we have more room in the closet for new mementos.

Like I said, I absolutely refuse to be bitter, beaten, and broken about being infertile. Not everyone can be that 1 in 4 for which IVF works. We're hoping we get that 25% chance as credit for something else down the road. Crushed Dream Karmic Credit.

My wish is for every woman** out there who unsuccessfully tried to conceive their own bio baby to make peace with it. To refuse to be bitter, beaten, and broken. To create new hopes and dreams. Or perhaps realize old ones we left behind long ago.

Tonight I have Häagen-Dazs® coffee ice cream to fill the void. (Nice forethought, Sweetie.)

Thank you again to everyone who has been pulling so hard for us. We felt and feel the love. Now that I've opened up the writing floodgates, don't expect me to quietly slink away from the blogosphere. We're going to march on following our path of least regrets. I'll have plenty to pontificate about.

Maybe the next job Dan gets will be in Paris. Onward and upward.


*Ok. He didn't really say the "door hitting my back side" part.

**I specify women vs. couples or men and women, because we are, in fact, designed to have that empty womb filled. We literally, feel the void on a visceral level. Don't mean to imply the men are beyond the pain.