Second Try Not Successful

So, yesterday we just got the results of Emily’s blood test back, and it’s official. IVF attempt #2 was not successful.

The feelings are somewhat similar but yet somewhat different. There was much more bitterness for the first failure but this time round, I don’t have bitterness, only a whole lot of sadness.

Dr. Surinder (who has been an Angel throughout this process) comforted Emily by explaining the 3 Stages of the Grief Reaction (which is similar to losing a loved one). Stage 1: Initial shock from the news; Stage 2: Blame and justification for said event; Stage 3: Acceptance of event and sadness. We’ll need to get past it in whatever way we can, however long it takes, and move forward.

There is however, an unspoken aspect of this entire process – my part in all this. I have financed the whole thing, I have supported Emily and I sacrificed my time and more money, and what I’ve gotten in return is abuse from a wife with a neuro-chemically altered state of mind. She’s the holy vessel, yes. But for the love of fucking God don’t downplay the role of the Partner/Husband in this.

When the dust settles, am I not as sad? The only difference is that I cannot allow myself to wallow because bills need to be paid. I need to move the fuck on. But I get no comfort. I get no hugs. I get no words of encouragement.

None at all. I’m literally all alone. The silence is fucking deafening.

Darkness Is Back

I met up with some old friend over last weekend. While I love them to bits and I miss them, they inadvertently make me feel like a tremendous loser.

4 friends and multiple kids, 2 more are with child, they’ve been on holidays everywhere and seem happy where they are.

Here I am, struggling financially due to IVF costs, and I can’t afford to take my wife anywhere meaningful. I can’t even go somewhere nice to eat regularly without it cutting into me secretly. I hate my job and I’m severely underpaid.

I really, really don’t know, if like the saying goes, “it shall pass” because it doesn’t feel like it at all. I’m getting myself dragged deeper into depression and the last time I tried to talk about it to Emily, it didn’t end too well. 

Now I’m depressed and also lonely.

To Reminisce

There are days I miss my old Salsa friends, ones that I've made over a decade of dancing.

I don't tell anyone because I have no one to talk to these days, but I get overwhelmed with a crippling sensation of loneliness.

It's not all doom and gloom, don't get me wrong. I've reconnected to some old acquaintances, made new friends out of folks I never did before, created and maintained my own mini Salsa community, among others. In fact the other day, I just performed with some of them.

So yeah, this isn't a 'Lost Cause' post. Just a mental note, that despite my really busy schedule and all the craziness going on, I get these pangs of loneliness and isolation. I usually keep it to myself because I don't really know how to talk to people about this - moreso Emily. I bury it deep down, and do something else to pass the time.

Week of Madness

This has been one fucking crazy week.

For starters – I need to finalize up to 2 major tenancy agreement and 1 killer SPA within this week. Next, I have a host of new projects that are moving (at their respective pace) and I’m doing the ground work. Finally, the cream on top of this silly cake is that we agreed to take on a paid Salsa performance.

Yes, that’s what you heard. A paid Salsa performance.

Money there is really good, and I’ve always dreamt of starting an inclusive dance company. We have always received calls for performances and we’ve always turned it down for various reasons (read: excuses). But over the years we’ve met some decent folks who we can work with. So when the opportunity came up again, with us as free agents, why the fuck not?

Problem is: The event company finalized the details late. Plus other complications, we only started working on it last week Thursday. Performance is this week, Friday. As of last night (Wed) I think we nailed the entire choreo (by yours Truly, can ya believe it?). Tonight (Thurs) is the Final Practice, probably with costume as well. Tomorrow is D-Day. You can say, the first of many, the kickstarter to the Project I’ve only ever dreamed about.

No one is reading this, but send me your love and best wishes anyway.

Clinical Depression

You know what's disturbing for me? Reading up on suicide cases. I can't ever imagine what goes on in the heads of victims.

The only certain thing, the only undeniable fact, is that depression is a very real thing. It comes is many different forms but all forms ultimately serve one singular purpose - to break you down and destroy you.

My lonely emotional roller-coaster is at times overwhelming. From our failure to conceive, to the grueling medical processes that follows, to the costs involved, to the failure that followed and the anxiety of the next attempt.

I drown myself in work and hobby, and it helps. It really does.

Currently, I'm super skint. Broke. Not as bad as I was in the years past (with much worse financial management) but I'm struggling due to excessive overheads. IVF is fucking expensive, make no mistake about that. Thank God its already halfway through October. I'm trying to see out 2019 without going under.

It's not all doom & gloom but I'm screaming inside sometimes. Is it all worth it?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Pain Leads to the Dark Side (contd)

I’m furious. At who and what, I am unsure. God, myself, Emily... I have no idea. I’m processing this anger in the worse way possible. I’m burying it deep down inside, hoping to never bring it up again.

I’m frustrated. We’ve tried so hard, spent so much, given so much time. All for fucking naught. I’ve been stifling the urge to scream several times today. To just throw my head back and scream till I go hoarse.

I’m sad. Emily’s sad and dejected. I’m sad because we have one less chance to make a dream come true. I’m sad because somehow we failed. Miserably failed.

Writing this is therapeutic enough, but I want to talk to someone so badly. I’ve got no one. Emily has me to be concerned about her, despite claiming that she doesn’t need one. But me, I’m all fucking alone. I’m usually fine with that but my thoughts are bringing me to dark places.

I need help.

Pain Leads to the Dark Side

Emily shared an article with me, which was entitled “My Failed IVF Cycle Felt Like a Pregnancy Loss”. She’s been reading a whole lot on the topic since yesterday, when we received the unfortunate news. It goes without saying that the past 12+ hours is a painful cocktail of emotions for the both of us, which is the true purpose of me, writing this.

I won’t even try to justify any of my views here as it comes from a very deep and dark place, not some politically correct news editing room.

As expected, Emily is sad at the outcome. Dr. Surinder appeared perplexed. We did everything right, and we also took additional precautions on top of that. On paper we were in the best of conditions, save a slightly thinner lining than preferred (6.6mm vs 7.0mm). We don’t understand where we failed. The Good Doctor suggested perhaps there was something wrong with the fertilized egg, and hence the body naturally rejects it. If this was the case, then maybe we should be thankful.

In any case, I’ve been made to understand that even in the best of cases, pregnancy chances are about 70% - 80%. High enough, but as some say in tabletop war gaming: “All rolls fail on 1”.