After our primary infertility struggles and IVF success catapulted me into the crazy, hectic, wonderful life that motherhood brings; I became an open book about our infertility journey. I hadn’t had the emotional support that I desperately needed while going through round after round of complicated infertility treatments. To be honest, even an army of supporters probably wouldn’t have been enough. With infertility…the best intention, the nicest phone call or text, the sweetest gift, the most compassionate comment…somehow it’s still never quite enough. The pain, the chronic patient role, the longing, the sorrow-it all outweighs the support. (for those showing support…please don’t stop! I’m just ranting.) I wanted to be real for other women struggling with similar issues. I wanted to break down the stigma that infertility builds and then reinforces with steel beams.
But, then I became an infertility patient once again. Optimistic…determined…nervous…and hopeful. At first sharing felt second nature. Our first frozen IVF success turned miscarriage made it a little harder. Repeated disappointments have continued to zap my desire to share. Instead, I’ve found myself withdrawing from the spotlight. In a way hiding. Clinging to privacy once again, as though it is a better comforter or coping mechanism to deal with my grief. My hope is still real, but the painful question of “Will it ever work?” plagues me each day. Blame it on the hormones. I do. But, my heart knows that my silence has simply been a way to quell my grief. Writing is acknowledging. Putting things into words makes them real…acute…like pouring salt into a wound. I like to think that I’m strong, but a girl can only take so much.
So, please forgive my silence. I don’t mind your curiosity. I love your support. But, to answer your question…No, we are not pregnant. Our most recent IVF cycle was more than promising. With 9 embryos to show for my efforts (yes, “MY.” I’m taking all of the credit. My husband would agree.) and the best cycle of stimulation yet, I was certain that it would work this time. So certain, that when we received the call 1 hour before our embryo transfer that none had survived to day 5, I went into something of a tailspin. NONE?? A statistical anomaly? A lab error? We made good embryos consistently. Only 10-15% not 100% should have arrested in development. WHAT? WHY? HOW?
I hate the unknown. I hate the uncertain. As a physician, I want answers…reasons…solutions. I want to fix. I want to heal. I want to have a baby!!!! Instead, I’m starting from scratch once again, this time with a new doctor. Joy of joys. The idea of entering a third infertility establishment as a new patient just makes me feel warm and fuzzy all over again. Here goes!
Thanks for listening. Thanks for reading. Since silence hasn’t done the trick, I’ve decided to clink on the keys a little more going forward. My prayer is that for those struggling you will know that you aren’t alone. I’m here in the trenches with you. My prayer for myself is that even in the darkness I will not lose sight of the light…no matter how small it’s glimmer. I will hold onto hope, not blindly, but with the understanding that even if things don’t work the way that I long, there is still a greater plan. God may not answer my prayers the way that I want, but my story may just be the game changer to impact someone else. And, that uncertainty makes me smile.