The conversation (after the conversation about our concerns and what went wrong last time) went a little something like this:
Dr. M: So you’d like to do another IVF cycle?
Me: Yes, please.
Dr. M: Okay, when would you like to do it?
Dr. M: Well, how about you call us on your next day 1?
And it was that fucking simple. I cried tears of gratitude instead of self-loathing walking out of the clinic this time. And instead of being ushered out the back door, I got a hug from my favourite nurse. But then I asked myself why we had been so stupid to have gone to the other clinic. Maybe we needed to stray to know how lucky we were to have the kind of service we got at our old clinic? I can’t change the last 4 months, but I sure as hell wish I could. Why does everything on this “journey” feel like it takes ten million times longer than it needs to?
Which leads me to the bitter infertile part… I’m no longer at all happy when people announce their pregnancies or give birth to their easily conceived children. I’m just jealous and pissed off. Not “happy for you, sad for me”… just jealous and pissed off. I would like to be the person, that when people reflect on my “infertility journey” (did you see my retweet the other day? ‘why do we call it an infertility journey? Were infertility hell and nightmare already copyrighted?’) they would say “she handled it with such grace”.
I’ve never been graceful in my life and it ain’t starting here! I heard that an acquaintance had her baby the other day and all I felt was anger. Why did they get a living baby? The last conversation I had with her husband went a little something like this “yeah, kids suck. Why would anyone waste their time having babies.” Okay, I’m paraphrasing, but you get the gist. And then 2 months later they are joyfully pregnant on their first attempt. You know what? Fuck you universe. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wish infertility or pregnancy loss or baby loss on anyone. I’m just pissed off that all I’ve ever wanted was to be a mom and I can’t seem to do it.
Lovely, eh? I’m not proud of myself, trust me. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am anymore — especially when I have thoughts like that. How uncharitable and cold…. I don’t want to be that person, but with every step along the way it seems to get harder and harder to retain the former me.
I’m grateful that we get to do another IVF cycle, but at the end of the day, that’s all it is. All I know for sure is that I get to spend another $7000 (that we had to borrow from a very generous friend) and inject a bunch of drugs into my body again. I don’t know if we’ll get better eggs, I don’t know if we’ll get decent embryos, I don’t know if they’ll implant, I don’t know if I’ll produce a living baby. Every failure is a step closer to the end and it’s getting harder and harder to believe that we’ll succeed — that something will go right for a change.
I have to find away to be positive and let all the negative energy go. But it just seems so much easier to prepare myself for the worst so I won’t be disappointed.