It’s been 37 days since IVF was cancelled. 37 days. To move forward, my body needs to ovulate and get rid of the cyst that they found 37 days ago and I need to start my period. I contacted my nurse on day 35 and she suggested I come back into the clinic for blood work and and an ultrasound. So, yesterday we did that. My husband met me at the clinic after I walked our daughter next door and our neighbor graciously let her play with her youngest son. It’s been a while since I’ve had to leave her for a doctor’s appointment (37 days to be exact!), so l feel less guilt in the moment than I anticipated. Walking back into the clinic feels like a familiar, but unwelcome presence in our lives. When I sit down, I am reminded that I am still in this. We watch another couple embrace as an elderly man introduces himself as ‘The Anesthesiologist’ and asks them to part ways for the egg retrieval. I can’t help, but shiver at the thought of my husband not being allowed to go back to the operating room with me. I don’t want to go without him. I lean over and tell him, ‘You’re coming with me for that…we have to say something about this to our nurse.’ He reassures me that he will be there, but we both know we have no control over that. As with most aspects of this process.
I get my blood drawn first and remind the same woman (who takes my blood every time) that we have to go upstairs because I lay down to have my blood drawn. I am a fainter and I have to lay down. Believe me, lady, I am acutely aware of the irony of having to lay down for a blood draw in a fertility clinic full of needles. She tries to be patient with me and later we have a small discussion about trying to draw my blood while I’m sitting up, ‘We’ll try to be brave next time’ she says to me. My husband tries not to smirk in her presence and I know that he knows that I want to scream in her face. ‘Brave?! You don’t think I’m already incredibly brave just for showing up here? For putting myself through this nightmare of a medical process? How much more brave can I get when faced with an Unexplained Infertility diagnosis and seeking treatment for months, going into years? DO NOT QUESTION MY BRAVENESS…it is the one thing I have, lady! Now have a nice day and good job.’
We move into the ultrasound room and as I go through the routine and prepare to be violated with the magical ultrasound wand, my husband puts his hand on my back and says, ‘I’m sorry, babe.’ I give him the knowing glance of appreciation. I’m fortunate that he is with me for each of my appointments no matter the magnitude of their importance or invasiveness. He has been right with me and so he understands how taxing it is on me. It helps him empathize with my tears. I know that if he could, he’d jump on that table for me. He’d take some of this burden away if he could. He cannot, so I hop on the table and breathe deeply. Our ultrasound tech is new to us and she is kind and reassuring. I am still amazed to see my lady parts from the inside. What a complete miracle our bodies are. It eludes me how children are ever conceived. Fairly quickly, my ultrasound is over and we are told that our nurse will be in touch with us to talk about what is going on with my body. And then we wait.
Sooner than I’d predicted, I have a sweet voicemail on my phone from my nurse letting me know that I have ovulated and my cyst is ‘resolving’ aka ‘going away’ and my lining is super thick, so I should expect a very heavy period in the next week. I feel relief that there’s nothing crazy going on inside of me, but also some tiny twinge of sadness that I’m not pregnant. It is always a possibility that I am pregnant because I have never been given a formal diagnosis of any kind to suggest that we could not conceive on our own. It is a never-ending cycle of possibility that has not led us to a positive ending…yet.
Now what? Now I wait for the tidal wave (super gross!) to come through my body and then we begin again. We wait. I wait. I continue to find things to be grateful for and explore happiness, minimalism, health and wellness, relationships, organization, motherhood, baking, yoga, and the art of stillness and silliness. I continue to be a work-in-progress through this process. Sometimes I feel full of grace and sometimes I am impatient, tearful, and full of fear. I’m usually somewhere in between throughout my days. I am in awe of how time passes. What was once going to be the ‘Summer of IVF’ is now turning into the ‘Fall of IVF’. How did we end up so far into this hole with no light in hand? How is it that we are willing to keep going? I suppose it is the brilliance of hope that materializes after our wounds are carefully addressed and licked clean. For me, it is my daughter, my husband, my family and my friends…my dreams – all promises of so much light.
*Gratitude: I am grateful for a beautiful Mother’s Day celebration with my family this past weekend. I felt loved and celebrated and immersed in a very real (and challenging) side of motherhood where I often find my 3-year-old daughter struggling with limits and boundaries as she finds her voice. Her struggle is my reminder of how important my role is as her mother.