Lost

Yesterday was beta day. I was ridiculously excited and afraid at the same time. When we stopped for breakfast after what had to have been the most painless easiest blood draw ever I had to restrain myself from buying little baby booties to surprise my husband with. I walked out empty handed on the grounds of I didn't want to jinx it.
The day seemed to go on forever. Hours passed and no phone call. When it finally did ring at 3:00 pm almost 8 hours after the draw, I hesitated. On this side of the phone call I was PUPO, on the other who knew. I took a deep breath closed my eyes and pushed the button. "Hello?" I know my voice wavered a little. I shut my eyes at the very perfunctionary tone at the other end as my stomach sank. My nurse Candy told me that my HCG came back negative. Inside I shattered. She went on her spiel about stopping my medications and asked if I wanted to speak with Dr. Scotchie since Dr. Murray wasn't in. I took another deep breath and tried to marshall my control. "What's the point?" I failed miserably and my voice shook and cracked. In my head I'm going really what is the point what is she going to say to make this better. Candy was silent for a moment before starting back in 'well lets go ahead and set up an appointment to talk to Dr. Murray.'  "I'd like to talk to my husband first," I choked out. Candy apologised and said she'd see me next week. I thanked her for calling, which is so wrong to thank someone for shattering your dreams with a simple sentence. As soon as the phone was off I slumped over my desk, burrowed into the crook of my arms, and started to sob. My mom who had fallen asleep on the couch after our early morning drive woke up and came in. I pulled myself together and stood up, stomping down and locking up the pain for later examination. She tried to pull me in a hug and I growled out, "No." She looked hurt by my refusal but I know that the fragile walls I had just put up would collapse in her arms and I would let out the very ugly cry that would hurt her to see. Instead I put on my shoes and invited her on a brisk walk. Any activity to keep the hurt at bay. When the pain in my legs began to fight the pain in my chest for recognition I turned back. I got inside the house a minute or two ahead of her and closed the door. Knowing she wouldn't see, I slammed my palm into the side of the refrigerator so hard that all the magnets fell off and clattered to the floor. I hide on the other side of the frig and flexed my hand making sure I hadn't broken anything because I'd used way more force than I had intended to. A few minutes later and I finally convinced her I was fine and she should leave. I waited til her car drove past the house and then let the walls down. I lay in the middle of the floor and cried so hard I couldn't breath. I don't know how long it took to get the worst of it out but then I got up and systematically removed all signs of our failed cycle from the house. It hurt the most to remove little acorn's picture from the fridge and drop it into the box with all the rest of the unused meds and needles. I crawled into bed and turned on a video game. Something mindless. DH come home an hour or two later. The excitement as he came through the door cut me like a knife. I just shook my head because the words were too much to say.
We hugged then went out for ice cream. We talked alot in the car. When we got back we both crawled back into bed even though it was barely 7 o'clock and went to sleep.
I'm so glad that I didn't buy those stupid little red booties. There is no doubt in my mind that they would be flung out into the middle of the woods right about now.
We took this major gamble the biggest one of my life, and we lost. I don't know what to do now.

What Fresh Hell

I don't know what to do with myself.
My bad foot is acting up something horrible. To say that it scares me would be an understatement. I panicked on Monday. Full fledged, took my sock off and started to cry, panic.
My foot has never been something pretty to look at. I remember very specifically this one time my mom and I went shoe shopping. I was a teenager, probably looking for dress shoes. I was sitting down with the socks off while she went to go get me a different size and I happened to look down at the mirrors. I stared almost stunned at how ugly it looked, I'd never really thought about it, never really looked, never been subconscious until that moment. By the time she came back my eyes were filled with unshed tears and I was shaking. 'It looks so different," I mumbled, "So bad. It'll never be normal. Why can't it be normal?"  My mother, usually so composed, broke into full blown sobs right there in the shoe store. I was so shocked by her reaction and my very basic need to have her be happy that I stomped on the feelings I had at the moment and tried to console her. "It's okay, don't cry. I can walk, at least I can walk. It doesn't have to be pretty, just as long as it works. And it does okay, so don't cry."
Remembering that day and the fear I feel now brings those tears back. When I took my sock off Monday night after a day of hobbling on it, it looked worse than it has ever been with one exception. A huge blue black bruise circled my 'knot' spreading down towards my big toe out as far as my third toe and halfway down the foot. Darker purple ribbons of color snaked throughout and it was swollen everywhere. The pictures do not show the full extent of how badly it looked and they certainly do not capture my panic. For you see I didn't do anything to it, but walk. I didn't bump it, stub it, or drop anything on top of it. It appeared with no seeming cause or correlation. And the pain that comes with it is nothing to scoff about it. A heavy blanket on top hurts. The new orthopedic shoes I bought last weekend. Yeah you can forget about it, I can't wear them. I'm so lucky I bought three pairs of shoes on that last trip, because only the very last pair I picked up the ones I almost didn't buy are the ones I can wear.

I have been icing it every day twice a day, once after work and once before bed. As you can tell it has improved significantly, but its still swollen and there are still those odd dark ribbons of color on my toe. And it's still very tender. And that knot isn't the only place it's hurting, it isn't even the worse place it hurts. My ankle is so stiff and painful. The tendon that goes down the outside of my ankle is where I feel the most pain and its so swollen there I can't even see that tendon anymore. I limp constantly, wincing from the pain. But most of all worse than the pain is that I'm still scared. The thought of going to the doctor for it scares me. The thought of surgery scares me. The thought of amputation being suggested scares me. The thought of a wheel chair scares me. The thought of never being able to walk scares me. I am so scared right now, I don't know what to do.
This development is making me question so many things. I wonder if I can keep working. I wonder if its even right of me at all to want children, what if this is genetic and not positional as my mother's doctor suggested and I pass on this terrible burden to a child. What if pregnancy is the straw that breaks the proverbial camel's back and I can no longer walk? What if there's a reason we're infertile? What if by the time I'm 30 I'm stuck in a wheelchair?
Ontop of all this, Dh's doctor bills came in. He owes a little over a 1,000 dollars. It's going to have to come out of the Fund. In a few days it will drop from almost 5k to 4k. If I do have to go to the doctor that will also have to come out of the fund. I'm never going to reach my goal. The more that has to come out, the more I have to work, the more damage I do, the more scared I get that something is going to have to give and I don't know what it'll be. My body or my heart.