During Insomnia Hour, I lay completely still, gazing at the ceiling. My stomach was cramping, and my temperature had dropped for the third day running. The spotting/bleeding increased yesterday to the level where I had to change the pad a couple of times, although it was still old brown blood.
In my rational mind, I knew it was all over - I've known since Monday, and confirmed it with the negative test on Wednesday. But so many people told me not to give up hope until Official Test Day.
I needed a wee, but still I lay there. As long as I hadn't got up and done the test, I could imagine that it might still go the other way. AF was like Schrodinger's cat. Until I had done the test, Rucksack and Ray-Ray were both alive and dead, but once that test box was open, there was no going back - they would be either one way or the other.
I eventually fell back into a restless sleep. I dreamt that I was talking to a little boy who was on his way home from his second day at school. We were waiting for a train, and as it pulled into the platform he said, excitedly, "You know what was on the floor of this carriage when the train came in yesterday? (Dramatic pause) BLOOD!!"
Then DH brought me a cup of tea, and it was time to get up. Reluctantly, I dragged myself into the bathroom and peed in a cup. My fingers shook as I struggled with the cellophane wrapping of the test box, and I felt sick with apprehension.
Finally, I managed to dip the test. It was a digital test, and the little egg timer began to flash. I emptied the cup and cleaned it out, then sat down and watched the egg timer as it winked at me. My mind was blank.
And then the answer came up: "Not Pregnant".
The box has been opened, and there's no more in-between stage. I never even saw my babies. They probably never got any bigger than a few cells each. But they were half my husband's DNA, and half mine, and they lived. And now they're dead.
I'll ring the clinic later to tell them and see what we do next. I haven't taken my Cyclogest, so AF should be here in full force soon. But in the meantime I'm sitting here remembering how happy we were when we heard we had three little embryos, how proud my DH was and the excitement and anticipation we both felt when we knew they were inside me where they belonged.
I couldn't keep them safe. I couldn't nurture them and help them to grow. The clinic did its job and got us as far as it could. I'm the one who let them down.
Bye-bye babies - you may have been only tiny little specks, but we'll never forget you.