Monday, October 22, 2007

Three Little Acorns

I had my blood test today, and this afternoon Jill from the doctor's office called. Just from her greeting, I knew it wasn't good. Last time her voice was full of joy. This time her tone was a clear sign that I was getting bad news.

"I'm sorry, you aren't pregnant."

I am too. I was so confident this time. Maybe because things went so well the first time we tried IVF, maybe because I wanted it to work, but I really felt it was going to happen. So much for intuition.

I am really disappointed. I am sad, but even more I am just so diappointed. Outside my office is an oak tree. Talking to my sister by phone, I bent over and picked up three little acorns. Each is small and perfect, and I could not help think about the three perfect little embryos that I won't see become babies. I'm not crazy, I didn't actually want three babies, but I did want one. I do want one. I am so happy to have Ada, and I will live without another baby, but I so want one.

I put the three little acorns in my pocket. Having thought I was pregnant, the loss of the embryos is so acute right now. It will get easier, but for now I need to hold on to the three little nuts to remind me not of my loss, but of hope. There are a lot of acorns strewn around the tree. Most of them will not become oaks, but one or two could. Hoping my odds are better than that, I am calmed by the idea that we still have chances left. But realistically, I will worry about that tomorrow. Today I really just need to crawl into bed and feel shitty.


  1. We're sorry...John and I are both sorry.

  2. ug. i too am so sorry to hear it. i have been thinking of you a lot lately. take care and let me know if there is anything i can do, whatever that might be.

  3. FUCK NL. Only you.. shitty and lyrical? You teach me much with the parable of the acorns. We're sorry and sad. Sorry honey.

  4. I am so sorry. That sucks and it's not fair and I hope the answer is different next time.

  5. Oh honey, pull up the covers and bring a box of kleenex and stay there for a good long time.

    Saying I'm sorry doesn't seem like enough. I'm really sorry you didn't get better news. I'm sorry you are sad.

    Damn it.

  6. Sorry things didn't work out this time. I hope it all does soon.

  7. damn.

    the mystery is wider.

    roll as you can, cling to moments of clarity.

  8. hugs, nora, to you and chris. i am so sad for you, but hopeful, too.

  9. I really wanted to call you yesterday. I was thinking about you in the morning, and I even told Caleb I felt like I needed to talk to you, but I just - wanted to let you reach out if you want to talk. About whatever the result of the IVF was.

    I'm here. Call if you need to talk or if you just want to go shopping or something dumb.


    p.s. This is a post that really soars. You may be in pain, but your writing reflects more than that. It reflects your ability to see beauty even in the midst of the pain. You're really wonderful, N.

  10. I'm sorry. It sucks, it really does.

  11. crunchycarpets10/24/2007 5:53 PM

    ..oooh I am very sorry...

    I know you were trying hard to be NOT all excited....

    Not all hopeful...

    I am very sorry.

  12. (un)relaxeddad10/28/2007 5:05 AM

    That's so hard. Really don't know what to say.

  13. Came here via Deb.

    That kind of news just sucks. Hope you're on the mend and back to hopeful soon.

  14. i'm so sorry to hear this news, and i apologize for being so late in reading it. i love the imagery of your little acorns and i hope they have continued to bring you comfort during some sad days. sending lots of love your way.

  15. dear nora,
    so sorry to hear your news. i do hope that you and chris are getting the support that you need.
    love, ellen

  16. I wish I could hug you right now. I am in my heart.