It’s the end of National Infertility Awareness Week, and I had so many big plans to honor the occasion. I try really, really hard to be open and transparent, not only to bring awareness to what so many go through silently, but to also make sure no one feels like they’re going through it alone. I talk about blood draws and infusions and ultrasound wands with little shame. I shout from the rooftops that I don’t have fallopian tubes. I’m sure many of you know this, as I’ve said this often, but if I’m ever interesting enough to write an autobiography, it will be called “I Meet A Lot of People Without My Pants On”.
But our 6th embryo transfer failed, and suddenly, I didn’t have it in me.
Let me back up. I got pretty severely rear ended on my way to work on Tuesday. Then, on Wednesday, we got the official call that this cycle was a bust. And my grandmother was in the hospital. We’ve had a bad week.
This cycle, we transferred our last 4 embryos (#7-10). We threw EVERYTHING at this cycle. Everything. I took time off work, I did ALL the meds and treatments and infusions, all the right foods, no caffeine, no sweeteners. Energy healing, reiki, cupping, acupuncture, massage. I visualized, meditated, held on, let go, BELIEVED.
And here’s the big kicker – did the car accident have anything to do with its failure?
But it is what it is. And what it is is pain, anger, and so much sadness.
And jealousy. It wasn’t just a longing, it was a true, ugly jealousy. Jealous of others, friends and strangers, who don’t know what it’s like to be $65,000 in debt with no baby or end in sight. Jealous of those who don’t work endlessly on something your soul so deeply needs, only to feel like you’re in a hamster wheel of a constant failure. Jealous of those who aren’t talking to their bellies full of nothing everyday for weeks, who don’t have to watch their partners fill with SO much hope, those who don’t have to tell their loved ones that it failed. Again.
This emotion isn’t pretty, nor is it welcome, but it’s real. Grief is real. And sometimes, this is just what it looks like.
Which brings us back to National Infertility Awareness Week. And since I’ve neglected it, let me just say this:
Infertility is so much more than the inability to get pregnant. It completely robs you of yourself. At 6+ years, I’m just not much other than infertile. My career is on hold, all my friends have kids and kind of don’t know what to do with me, and 96% of my thoughts revolve around building our family. I know it all sounds pathetic, but this is the true picture of infertility. Every move you make is analyzed in the wake of infertility – if we spend money, what we eat, what we do, where we go. I’m a total hermit because I have nothing to talk about other than IVF and debt and babies, and I know no one wants to hear about it over and over.
So here’s where we are: we have no idea, we’re back to square one. We’re out of embryos, money, and grit. But we’re open to everything – more IVF, adoption, and/or surrogacy. None of these things are simple, and none are inexpensive.
We know it’ll be worth it. One day.