The problem is, I viewed IVF as our silver bullet. And it might still be, it's just a really, really slow-moving bullet. In vitro fertilization was presented as our #1 chance to get pregnant. I just thought it would happen a little more....immediately than this. Especially since everyone on our team has been so positive about our chances with IVF, it gets more and more shocking to me when it fails. Bryce and I both said the same thing to different people this weekend--each failed cycle compounds the disappointment and loss like a Richter scale. It's not linear, it's exponential. We can't forget that we still have at best a 50% chance of conceiving with IVF, and we just keep falling in the wrong 50%. Eventually if you flip a coin over and over you will stop getting all tails and get heads. But how many flips? Three? Four? Or are we like Celine Dion, who took six IVF attempts to get her beautiful twin boys? I would hope since I'm 34 and she's in her 40s that wouldn't be the case, but it seems logic and common sense are lost on this particular scenario.
It's so hard because I want to think about and plan for our next IVF, but I just don't have the emotional, physical, or financial bandwidth to do it right now. This loss is still too raw. So instead I am left examining everything that happened--what did I do wrong? What part of my body is failing me? Are our embryos unhappy in my uterus? Is my uterus somehow toxic? Are our embryos sad little deteriorating things that just stop growing after transfer? Are my eggs somehow allergic to Bryce's sperm? Do they combine ok in the dish but then implode upon getting back to the mothership? Is there something I could have done differently, despite all the measures I took to be the model infertility patient? I took Tylenol PM when I had migraines during my two week wait. Was the PM part not embryo-friendly? Were the migraines a sign of something ominous to come? The what-ifs just keep coming. And I might not get all the answers I want...they just might not exist.
|I am sad and angry. And yes, our stockings are still hanging.|
So, my goal for this week is to cross over from raw to numb. I want to move from feeling everything to feeling not so much anymore. I want the question "How are you doing? Are you ok?" to not freeze my mental processes because I just don't know how to answer it. I want to be past this immense sense of loss and sadness and rage at the inequities of baby distribution in this world. I want to be able to handle walking through the picture frame section of Michael's Crafts without having an anxiety attack that leaves me hyperventilating and walking to the car with my coat wide open because I feel constricted in every way. (Why, why, why must they put babies in most of the frames? The one I bought had flowers pictured. Nice, neutral, universally attractive flowers.) I want to be in a place where the look of my face or posture of my body doesn't prompt my husband to ask, "What can I do to help you?" Because right now, there's nothing that anyone can do but take an interest. And understand when I don't know how to answer, "Are you ok?"