Big Fat Negative

After yet another ten days of waiting, we found ourselves in very familiar territory. The home pregnancy test we took at home before the blood test was a big fat negative. We tried to talk ourselves into feeling like it was just too early for an EPT to pick up something as important as this, but, well, we knew. Heidi knew, to be exact. She has always been very intuitive. She knew she was going to miscarry. How? I don't know. She just knew. So, while I tried to reassure her that there was still hope this time, she already knew.

I sent a text to our nurse, asking that she tell me when the blood test results came in. I wanted to be able to prepare Heidi for whatever the result would be. I don't know why. She knew. She just knew.

When the call came in, prepare I did. I think I didn't want to hear from Pam because it would finalize what we already felt. If she didn't call, it meant there was still hope. When the call came, the hope was gone. Again. Much like waiting, you'd think we would be better at preparing ourselves. You'd think we would be better at hearing the final words..."I'm sorry. I just heard from the lab. The test came back negative." Oh the cursed words that we have come to hate and dread. And now, I had to tell Heidi, for the sixth time, that all that she wanted was not to be. How was it that the most amazing, kindest person I know can't get just this one thing? While I would never wish this on anyone, I pondered the fairness in unwanted pregnancies. I pondered the fairness of parents who didn't want their babies. Parents who killed their children instead of treasuring them. And here we were, wishing for nothing more that just to have that simple, natural event take place.

I called Heidi into my office. Adding a little insult to injury was the fact that I had to tell her while we were at work. She came in. She knew. But knowing still didn't stop the tears from coming. Even with only the tiniest shred of hope, there was still a shred. And I was the person who took that away from her. Sitting in my office, she cried. My heart broke. It broke for her and her immeasurable sadness. It broke for us and one more failure in our endeavor. It broke with the feeling of helplessness I felt in that moment. I'd always been the strongest proponent of positive thinking and here I was, feeling defeated. Feeling like I had nothing more to offer. No more words of hope.

And so our day continued. Much like any other day, back to work, but with broken hearts.