Unsuccessful. What an Awful Word.
The sperm retrieval mission was yesterday. We packed up and got to the hospital early, they took Jon in and I got settled. After they had got him into a room and gotten him all ready to go, I got to sit with him for a while and then they took him down to surgery while I went to the Family Waiting Room. They have a great set-up there, people who ask you questions when you walk in, they watch for you to leave, they get calls on your loved one’s status and update you every step of the way. It was actually nice to sit in there with people who were taking care of things, knew exactly when the surgery started and when they expected to be done and were in touch with the OR directly.
As it turns out, the OR called me directly and had me go up to another office to pick up the sample to be transported to the other hospital. The way I understood it, this was good news! Something had been found and collected to be transported!! Hooray! Wonderful news! When I got the canister in the car, I actually took a picture. In this container are the very very beginnings of our future children!
On the way to the other hospital to drop off the sample, I got a call from Jon’s MFI urologist who did the surgery and she said that nothing was found in the two spots that she had biopsied and that they would know more about why once they were properly analyzed at the other hospital.
So, nothing was found. There was nothing in there to BE found. And everything else plumbing-wise looked fine. And there was nothing in all his blood/semen tests that indicated that anything production-wise was wrong either. There’s just nothing there.
Since the first SA test found nothing, it’s been nothing but ups and downs. HOPE! and then nothing. But then HOPE! and then nothing. And in between, waiting with that hope just for it to be smashed to pieces. I wish I hadn’t have gotten that phone call. I wish that they had just waited until Jon & I were home and together to call. Finding out there was nothing in that canister I was lovingly transporting around the city and taking pictures of made me want to throw it out the window. What was the point of all this if there was nothing in there anyway?? That’s it, isn’t it?
Then I had to go pick up Jon. I don’t know if he was hopped up on painkillers or what, but he was making jokes and laughing, but he knew what I knew. I couldn’t think. I felt and feel today like the world just crashed down around my ears. We are not having biological children. Our kids won’t be 6’5” like Jon, they won’t have his long legs or his green eyes or his weirdo sense of humor. They won’t share some of his mannerisms, they won’t have his big nose (well, I guess they get off easy there..) and they won’t share his genes. WE will not have children that are half of each of us and that hurts so deeply. I don’t know what to do from here. I’m surprised each time we get bad news how badly it hurts. This devastated feeling is getting pretty old though.