It hasn’t been easy. Nor has it been cheap. I and my husband have been trying to get pregnant for several months now. We started seeing our doctor around October last year. We’ve tried very hard and spent a lot into the medications and stuff. Before last May, nothing really worked for me. Despite their high price, the meds weren’t doing their job. Then we graduated into injectables. About twelve thousand pesos into the work-up, the doctor still couldn’t see any significant progress. She decided to stop with the medications instead. She scheduled me for a routinary follow-up check three days later.
On that third day, we were surprised to see that even without the meds, my ovaries decided to act on their own. Perhaps out of pity for me, especially after I bawled like a baby the day the doctor said nothing was happening. I even took half a day off from work because I was so sad. But with this news, it seemed as if things were finally going right. One more shot in the arm and another ultrasound. When that was over, I still had another injection. But this time, it was going to be the last one. The ball was on our court, to do what we had to do. A specific date was given on which I was to see if I had indeed gotten pregnant.
Today was that day.
I woke up this morning earlier than I’m used to. I was anxious. I thought I had been experiencing some changes in my body and somehow, I’d gotten my hopes up. I had dreams, one where somebody was congratulating me because I was going to be a mother. And still another where I was carrying a cute bundle of joy.
I didn’t want to get out of bed. But my husband kept reminding me it was time.
Almost every night leading to this morning, I’ve been praying for a positive result. I tried my best to convince God that I am ready, that this would really complete my family. I’ve imagined the look of joy on my mother’s face when I would tell her she would be a grandmother soon, or that of my husband’s, after I emerge out of the bathroom clutching the pregnancy test with a positive result. This was, after all, the teaching in the book “The Secret.” Think positive!
I grabbed the test kit and braced myself. I went inside the bathroom and did my thing, carefully dropped some sample on the test kit and waited for the result.
Negative.
I tried hard not to believe it even though it was staring right back at me. Just a single stripe. Nothing else. I waited for a while. Maybe the other stripe was just taking a little longer to show. Five minutes later, there was still just one stripe.
The tears began flowing. The smile that I imagined I would have on my face as I greet my husband as I open the door was replaced by uncontrollable sobs. All I could say was “it’s a negative.” Then I went back to bed and then cried some more.
Of course, being the sweet guy that he is, my husband consoled me. There would still be a next time, he said.
But I didn’t see it the same way he did.
The stress of going to the doctor every other day for injections, ultrasound in between, drinking medicines three times a day, and having to explain to my boss why I need to go out every afternoon to see the doctor had somehow taken a toll on me. I was getting tired… Tired of going through the whole nine yards just to get nothing in return.
I don’t know what to do now. Whether to go back and do the whole process again or just leave it at that. Money doesn’t grow on trees where I live. Not to mention the emotional stress.
I don’t know what to do…except to do the thing I’ve been forbidden to do since my treatment began. On the way to work this morning, I bought a pack of cigarettes and started lighting up again. The way I see it, there was no point in quitting at all.
