The 24-Hour Rule

In the words of Florida Evans, “Damn! Damn! Damn!” Yeah, unfortunately, there’s really no other way to express how I feel right now. The worst possible scenario played out yesterday. At 10:15 yesterday morning, I got the phone call from the doctor’s office that my lone embryo had not survived. It stopped dividing on Saturday, meaning it essentially died. And that was that. No little miracle baby. We didn’t even get a chance to transfer the embryo and see if it would take.

The news was the hardest I’ve gotten in a long time, probably since Mom died. And what made it worse was dealing with it alone. Most couples that get this news have each other to find comfort with. I called Keith and talked to him about it a bit, but I spent the entire day alone, crying, in my apartment. Back when Mom and Dad were around, they would have been there for me. When I had the crisis with my Comps at BC and called them, upset, Dad said, “We’ll be there in 3 hours.” And they were. And there was never any doubt that they would be. No matter what was going on, when I needed them they would drop everything for me. There’s no one like that anymore in my life. That’s not a slight on the people that I know care about me, but there just isn’t anyone who would (or could) drop everything to be there for me. If I had never had that, maybe I wouldn’t feel the lack of it so much now. But I did have it. And yesterday, I wanted that more than anything – someone to say, “I’ll be right there.” Someone to give me a hug and say it’s going to be all right, even if I didn’t want to believe it in the moment.

But lamenting something I can never get back is pointless, as is wallowing in the heartbreak and disappointment of yesterday. That is to say, yesterday was all about wallowing. But that ended at 10:15 today. See, I have a little rule about heartbreak and disappointment, which I call The 24-Hour Rule. Basically, you have 24 hours to be completely devastated about a major loss or disappointment (deaths get more time). After that 24-hour period, it doesn’t mean that you are no longer upset or disappointed. But, now you have to regain perspective and decide what to do moving forward. 24 hours of wallowing, and then it’s about action.

So, I took my 24 hours. I wallowed. I cried. I acted like the world was coming to an end. Now that time is up and I look to the future. What’s next? I’m not entirely sure. I know I can’t do another IVF before the end of the year. Then I’ll be in London at the start of January. But, I should be able to start another cycle mid-January.  I know that I have to do at least one more cycle with my own eggs – I can’t just do a “one and done” because everything can’t hinge on one attempt. But the reality is that I may not do any better than I did this time. So, I’ve decided that the next step after that is to try one or two cycles with donor eggs. If that doesn’t work, then I will consider adoption. In the meantime, there is a chance that I may be able to do one last IUI in December. I have to ask the doctor. It may be worth taking the shot on the off chance that something could happen. As I move forward, I know that finances are going to be an issue, but I also know that selling my place and moving to Riverdale is more of a reality now anyway (and one I am comfortable with), so I’m not really that worried about it. This is all going to cost me a bloody fortune, but it’s worth it in the end. And I know I have fallback positions that will keep me out of the poor house! (on that note, during my 24-hour wallow-fest, I did actually apply for a new job).

So, onward. Yesterday sucked. But today is a new day, full of promise, and 24 more hours to work toward making my dreams come true.