I knew it wasn’t going to work. When my uncle had a heart attack the day of the transfer, I just had a feeling. Then the blastocysts were poor quality. And 2 days later, a different uncle got laid off. And he called me – because he couldn’t get hold of my Aunt, who was with her brother who had the heart attack. And he wanted to know if I could reach her – but she just was incommunicado at the time. Anyway, he was worked up, as one might be after being laid off. And he was ranting about bad things happening in threes – first the heart attack, then being laid off – and what was next?
And I somehow, sort of already knew what was next. I knew what number 3 would be. I have never been so damn superstitious in my life. But here it is.
And despite my need to just be done with all of this, I find myself looking at sperm bank websites for a new donor to keep trying for a few cycles. I hate this so much. I hate that I can’t just let go. For my own sake, I could walk away. But when I think of my son being an adult, and an only child, it breaks my heart. I hate this.