Going through the familiar stages of grief over this pregnancy that wasn’t, I reached despair. We had been so lucky – all our past transfers had led to pregnancy. (Spoiled, I know.) The big obstacle had seemed to be bringing the embryos to Europe. Now it’s becoming clear that no step is guaranteed.

We have 4 embryos left, or more specifically, 2 pairs. Even if each thaws nicely, if we give each a 25% chance of leading to pregnancy, there’s still a 25% chance I will try with all four and not get pregnant. Sigh. Somehow that’s considerably worse than I thought. Of course I was counting on 6 and on previous success rates…

For now, I need a break, and am happy that SB and I are leaving for family visits tomorrow. H follows on the 23rd. There will be family drama, and a very pregnant SIL with two little girls already. But hopefully also nice and relaxing moments.

Take care, dear readers, in this often challenging season.


On Thursday, I bought this ornament on a whim. I was so hopeful (and I also really like colors, and so does SB). H declared it terrible, but has left it hanging on our tiny tree (we’ll spend Christmas visiting family, as always. I’d love to stay home. Someday. But until then, no big trees.)

I’m sure you’re all familiar with the term “rainbow baby”. But actually it doesn’t make sense to me – rainbows are so transient. Beautiful, yes, but after a few moments they’re gone. That’s a bit how I look at this pregnancy (if it even was one). I felt less sick despite continuing the drugs, my uterus less heavy. Granted, there’s no way to rule out that I’ve imagined all but the side effects. But I really felt pregnant for about a week. And while I’m of course sad about losing this embryo, overall it was a much better experience than my previous international transfer attempts. So I’m hoping that we can get lucky in 2019.

one line

And not even a faint second line.

But I’ve been feeling nauseous and hopeful.

I don’t quite want to believe this just yet.

I have no idea to what extent the one drug I’ve been taking (some progesterone variant) could make me feel nauseous. Or to what extent I could imagine random waves of nausea.

I was just so hopeful this would have worked, and now I don’t quite know what to think, or do.


Thanks all for your support :)

It was a rather anticlimactic experience – got to the office, waited a few min, called into room, phone call from doctor to embryologist about how embryo #2 is doing (wait and see) – but #1 was fine, so she came over with it, quick ultrasound, small talk*, inserted, and then I was free to go. No smoking, no liquor, otherwise “live as usual”. I’m not sure how much time has distorted my memory from previous transfers, but right now it all seemed very low-key.

So I went to eat cake (because why not) and visit my cousin and her 3 kids, and then to the airport and back home. I did pass a pacifier on the way home, just like I did so many years ago, and I’ve decided to take it as a good sign (even if this is the most child-friendly city I’ve ever lived in, and there are quite a few lost pacifiers around).

And now we wait, and I try not to over-interpret every “symptom”. With about as much success as one would expect ;)

* I think they do small talk to distract us, but I’m always so afraid of distracting them from their important work that it stresses me out rather than relaxes me…

competition for the ‘worst blogger award continues’

An update in bullets, because if anything will happen it’s that.

  • I’m still married. And while I wouldn’t say things are great, exactly, they certainly are better than last year. (Ok, that bar wasn’t too high.)
  • The big change was… not therapy, not tedious discussions on who-does-what… but sunlight. We had a long & dark winter (even for Scandinavian standards, I think) which clearly didn’t help. And then it became April, and the sun came out again, and *poof* everything was better. Now it’s getting gray & dark again and I’m worried. But at least more prepared.
  • Somewhat surprisingly, I finally managed to ship our embryos to Europe. Not to this country, because apparently there’s a law saying they can be at most 5 years old. Which of course nobody bothered to tell me until we had gotten just over that threshold. But my – usually over-regulated – home country seems fine.
  • So I went there to actually meet the doctor now hosting my precious potential babies. Expecting timelines as at my previous clinic, which is, weeks of prep. To my great surprise, he said, “well, then you can come back on Monday, and we can transfer one”. Um, what?! I had to take a moment and think (and try, unsuccessfully, to get my husband on the phone). Ultimately we decided to roll with it. So, dear little embryo who’s currently hopefully thawing and growing to morula, and blast tomorrow, here I come. Heart wide open.


I feel like I’m peeling back layers. Trying to understand what lies at the core.

There was – still is – the uneven division of labor around the house. He is doing more, but still far less than 50%, so we are both frustrated. It seems sort of ironic.

I had, naively, assumed that he’d either step up to the challenge and really start doing a lot more (at least for a while, sudden dramatic changes are probably prone to lapsing), or state flat-out that this wasn’t gonna happen. And that either way there would be a straightforward way to move on. Obviously that’s not the case.

There is the layer of my feelings. They have clearly suffered, over years of feeling ignored and (for lack of a better term) exploited. But he also is a nice guy that I still like. He can make me laugh, which is worth a lot. We have our differences on parenting, sure, but I’m generally happy to co-parent with him. But the lack of respect for my priorities, my time (JF had an excellent post on this recently), make it really hard to be in a relationship with him. Recent example: He had an important deadline at work, so I had to skip my yoga class to pick up SB. I have an important deadline a few days later – “well, you could just skip your language class!”.

Then today he brought up again how he would like me to work on bringing our embryos here (why me? he’s so busy). I tried to explain that, before I’d be willing to try for another, we’d need a more positive outlook on our relationship, and that he would need to be ready to pick up a lot more slack in childcare – especially given my history, it is entirely possible that I would not be able to drop off and pick up SB for several months during pregnancy, nor do substantial grocery shopping or cooking. Experiences from friends (oh the many friends currently expecting their seconds; I’m happy for them but it also breaks my heart a little) have quite consistently shown that pregnancy+toddler is considerably more taxing than ‘just pregnancy’. His response? “Well that surely wouldn’t be the case for the whole pregnancy”. Dude. If you want to convince me that you’d be a supportive partner, almost any other statement would have been better.

I’ve been doing a lot of meditation. Well, your definition of ‘a lot’ may be different, but in any case considerably more than before. Kindness comes up a lot, and I am searching my soul, my feelings, how ‘kindness’ and ‘divorce’ can be compatible. And again, you might disagree, but I do think it can be seen as kindness to myself, leaving a situation that does not work anymore, after having tried and failed to remedy it. Kindness towards our daughter, who is currently living with a weird tension between her parents. Possibly even kindness towards my husband, who of course has his own dreams for life – perhaps it is better to go separate ways so that he can find his happiness, and I can try to find my own. (Despite all this, it is far from easy. But if you’re thinking along these lines, also read re-imagined’s latest and very honest and insightful post.)

Lastly, on a somewhat different topic, it seems Other Guy might have a girlfriend. I don’t know for sure, and it would be a long-distance thing, but looking back this might have been going on for a while, and I just didn’t notice, or did not want to notice. The realization hurt, perhaps most because I had allowed myself to be so hopeful, although there never was anything between us beyond casual flirting. So that adds its own layer of complicated feelings. But in a way, I think, it is good – I think I had allowed myself to escape into this fantasy, and avoided working on the actual problems in my marriage. Denial of sorts. So this turn of events has forced me to focus on the situation I’m in, rather than the one I wish I were in.