Begin Again, All Over Again

This morning was my first “active” visit back to my fertility doc since I lost the boys. I’d gone for a consult a couple months back, but we went in the middle of the day so the office was deserted.

Today it was packed, with the “blood line” nearly out the door. My RE has two offices, and we’d always gone to the smaller one before but since we moved it’s now best to go to the larger office. Sadly, it’s nearly a 45-minute drive, which meant that I had to be up and ready to leave the house before 8am.

I am NOT a morning person.

I tried, desperately, to emotionally prepare for this visit—even though this was pretty minor stuff. Unlike a lot of RE’s, mine is strictly hands-off, leaving us IVF victims patients in the hands of his crazy staff, many of whom are related to him in some manner or another. It’s quite a factory, hence the “blood line”, but he does have one of the highest success rates around, so I put up with it.

Today I felt totally out of my depth. Last year I had hundreds of appointments with the dildo cam and the blood drawing ladies, so I should be used to the drill. But I felt like I did when I went back to college as an adult—adrift and uncomfortable. I felt like an outsider.

It didn’t help that there were six million children in the waiting room. Ok, there were only six, but still. I overheard people cheerfully proclaiming that they are trying “for a third!” Somehow, I managed to not vomit—I think it helped that I hadn’t eaten breakfast. While I applaud their willingness to persist, I have to fight that feeling in me that there are only a certain number of ART babies to be had, and they are being greedy.

One nice thing about this office is that the women chat to each other, kind of a “what are you in for” discussion (totally stolen from Akeeyu). While it was much nicer than the other office where we all stood silent as death, I ask you, would you want to be in line with me?

Seriously. If you are an IVF newbie, what kind of stories do you want to hear from the other women in line? Certainly not mine.

The woman behind me began peppering me with questions when she discovered I was a veteran. I managed to put off discussing the boys until she said, “Oh, you had twins?” and I had to tell the story.

Everyone in line stopped talking and listened. I felt awful but I had to tell the truth. I kept saying, “The losses had nothing to do with the IVF.” But you could feel the pall spread over the women, and without meaning to, they all moved a little away from me, like preeclampsia might be contagious or something. They all gazed at me with pity.

It was awkward, to say the least.

I don’t handle pity well; I find myself wanting to yell, “I’m FINE. Really. Thank you.” But the truth is, I’m NOT fine. I’m fucked up. I am so completely full of fear about this cycle that I can barely take a deep breath.

I can handle the dildo cam and the blood tests. I can handle the whole thawing-the-embryos-and-waiting-to-see-if-they-grow thing. I can handle the transfer and waiting for the test results. I can even handle pregnancy again, even if it’s as awful as it was last time.

But I don’t think I can handle losing another baby.

I emailed Julia, Tertia and Grrl last week, asking them how they managed to go on. They all three said the same thing; how do you not go on?

A large part of me wants to just stop. No more cycles, no more trying. Just walk away. Live my life without children. But as Grrl said, it’s not like I can sell my 14 kidsicles on Ebay. Stopping isn’t really an option, and a childless life isn’t what I want.

But Hope is expensive, and my emotional checking account is overdrawn. I’ll keep moving forward, but I don’t imagine I’ll spend much time being happy about it.

The rest of the today will be spent awaiting my blood results. My ultrasound looked fine, so no worries there (I was afraid my uterus had decided to change following the last pregnancy, possibly to a more compact square shape, but no). I’m sure the blood results will be fine as well.

One little step forward. The rest of my body is grudgingly following along.

Yee-fucking-ha.

 

Comments

[Sandy]

Cecily....I'm not sure what to say to you. I feel like any words I can offer are kind of hollow, because I can never truly know how you're feeling. I applaud your honesty this morning with the other women - as hard as it is to talk about, it honours and acknowledges your boys and the very real fears that you were handling while sitting there this morning. You already know that if internet wishes could land a healthy child right in your arms, your arms would be overflowing right now. You are definitely not walking alone on this next part of your journey, my friend.

[BB]

I figure anything I say is going to sound trite, but I'll say it anyway. You fucking rock. Your strength never ceases to amaze me, to give me hope when things seem beyond my reach. Your wit and humor and god, yes, your mental and emotional fortitude are truly awe inspiring.

[alex]

Good luck Cecily.

[juliejulie]

Congrats on taking that step - you are truly among the brave ones - and I would love to be in line with you!

[KelliAmanda]

You're amazing. Simply amazing.

[Anne]

I don’t know if this will help you feel any better but hearing your story really helped this newbie out. Sure maybe there have been times that I’ve been looking for the other shoe to drop, but having a clue as to what to look for has meant my sanity has been saved. I do well enough on my own creating worse case scenarios and the mad googeling that will then ensue, having fore knowledge of what could happen in a strange way has been comforting. I don’t know if I’m making much sense here (didn’t sleep well last night, no caffeine for fricken months now, and it’s still early-ish here – I’m not a morning person either) but knowing what could happen; that I could lose the baby, that I could get really ill, that there was a possibility that I could die, well knowing these things put a face to them. Knowing what could happen made those fears something real, something that I could fight against, prepare for as much as possible, these fears were no longer some sort of nameless boogie man they were real fears that I could guard myself against. Pity has never entered into the equation for me when I read your blog. What there has been is a sense of recognition, at times sadness, fear, my crazy girl Hope getting nuts for you, laughter, anger (not at you), inspiration. For all those things Cecily I owe you a dept of gratitude. As you start out on this new journey I find myself sitting hear holding my breath, wanting beyond reason to let my girl Hope go crazy for you but currently sitting on the lid to the trunk that I currently have her stuffed into (she’s still managing to make a lot of noise).

[MichelleL]

Cecily,

I wanted to add my support of your efforts and courageousness. I knew that getting back to this would be so very hard but I think you are holding up wonderfully. I am so proud to hear you told your story -- yes, it wasn't what those women wanted to hear but it happens and there is just no denying it. Keep going, good luck, and know you have one more person cheering you on.

[Leslie]

Cecily-

I too salute your fortitude and perseverance. I hope with all my heart that this time everything works the way we all want it to for you. You are so strong and so open - if anyone deserves to be a mother it's you.

[Susan]

A big monster hug to you, Cecily.
My daughter asked me the other day if being brave meant that you weren't afraid. I said, no, being brave means you keep going even though you are afraid. You are brave.
My wish for you is that some day you will be happy about moving forward with this.

[verna]

Cecily,

If I ever had to do IVF, I would want to hear your story. Why? Because all you ever hear about are the successes, or the "litters" that come from infertility treatments.

For me, I *need* to know what can go wrong, so I can find out how to try and prevent it. I honestly didn't realize - until I was sent a link to Grrl's blog - that IVF didn't automatically = a baby. (Yes, I was pretty ignorant)

Folks like you, Grrl, Tertia, Julie - ya'll are doing wonderful things for women. Even though I haven't gone thru what you have, I appreciate your sharing your story.

I can't explain it any better.......but I wish you very good luck with this cycle!

[anne]

Here here, on the being brave - that's you. So very true.

Cecily... thank you for being you. Having someone like you in my life (even if it's only in an internet kind of way) has made me an improved person. I wish you the very best on this next journey, knowing that you already have the heart and strength to go the distance.

Everything good to you.

--anne

[Linda]

I have so much hope for you and I wish for so much happiness. Good luck with this cycle.

[Sarah]

I love you. You blow me away...all the time.

[Catherine]

I love you Cecily. All my best wishes through this thing. Call on me if there absolutely anything I can do.

[Toni]

Holding your hand, Cecily, albeit virtually.

[Cat, Galloping]

Cecily, I don't know what to say, other than that I am really pulling for you.

[Roxanne]

Cecily,
I can't relate to the infertility stuff, but I can relate to the subsequent pregnancy stuff. It is scary and reading your post made me cry a little. But there is joy in it too. I promise.

[Ria]

I'll just echo...You are amazing.

Wishing you and Charlie the best-

[Julie]

I wish I could just wrap you and Charlie up in a beautiful soft blanket and protect you both during your cycle. Know that we will all be (virtually) there with you through everything.

[Cricket]

Good luck, Cec. You are so strong.

[liz]

I know it's totally inappropriate, but when you said, "...they all moved a little away from me...", I mentally added "on the Group W bench." and I giggled. Even though what's happening to you is not funny. And your experience was not funny. I thought of Arlo Gutherie and I laughed.

So I recommend listening to Alice's Restaurant.

And good luck with this round. I have my fingers crossed for you.

[Lana]

It takes so much strength to move on during infertility....I know. However, I cannot begin to imagine how much strength you must muster to move on after all you've been through. I wish you only the best and will think of you often during your journey...

[j]

This cycle will be so hard. But I have a very good feeling about it for you. I hope it goes very quickly and very smoothly. I don't know what else to say.

[MollieBee]

Liz! I love that song.

Cecily, if good wishes were pennies, you'd be a millionare. And that's only counting the ones I send to you!

:)

[Emily]

Sending you lots of luck and love with this cycle.