Almost one year ago I optimistically wrote in one of my posts that “we should have another one on the way within the next 4 months.” Well, silly me—I should know better than to put a timeline on anything related to IVF.
For any newcomers to the IVF world, I can sum the entire experience up for you in two words.
Just, wait.
That’s it. Get used to waiting… for what exactly? Just about everything. If there’s one thing you can absolutely depend on with IVF, it’s that you will always be waiting. The experience is also a whirlwind of many other things… emotions mostly… excitement, anxiety, panic, happiness, heartbreak, strength, and determination. And gratitude. For without IVF, I would not have my two greatest blessings in life.
The waiting is a construct. An unmovable part of the process. So here we are almost a year later from when I anticipated the process to begin again, and still, no Marco. But not for lack of trying… the initial hold up was that Vincent took longer to wean from breastfeeding than I had planned… there was a hysteroscopy to check my c-section incision for scar tissue… there was another egg retrieval… an embryo transfer, which was unsuccessful… a mock cycle to perform a biopsy… and finally we are able to begin another embryo transfer cycle.
It’s almost comical to me now when I think that one of the main reasons we waited so long to begin IVF was that I was terrified of needles. Four years ago I couldn’t even bring myself to do the little insulin needle shots by myself, and yet as of today, I’ve been on intramuscular hormone injections for six months straight. All of which I do myself.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at one of my doctor appointments while I sat in the waiting room. A couple who was new to IVF sat together having just gotten their cycle instructions and read them out loud. They read the intramuscular progesterone injection twice a day instructions and they both looked at each other with surprise. I had already anticipated what their next reaction would be when they read that the injections were twice a day… for 11 weeks! They both looked around the waiting room as if asking for someone to verify what they’d just read. Their eyes landed on mine as I was the only other person sitting in the waiting room.
“That’s correct,” I said with a smile because I recognized their looks of bewilderment and naïveté, and thought for a moment that must have been exactly how we looked 4 years ago. I quickly followed with, “but it’s all worth it!” Because it is.
The waiting is worth it.
The anxiety and sometimes heartbreak is worth it.
The uncertainty is worth it.
Why?
Because we wait with a purpose. And waiting with a purpose is always worth it. The purpose is the little voice that says even if it doesn’t work, we will try again… and again… until it does.
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