I had to take a few weeks to myself while nearing the end of our IVF journey because I was battling extreme anxiety and wanted to be as focused as possible. But have no fear! I have been documenting all the while, so that all my thoughts would be fresh and that I’ll be able to share with you what has been going on once I was a safe distance from it. The following are my actual thoughts while enduring everyone’s dreaded two week wait between transfer and beta testing.
The 2WW. I’ve heard tales of it, but honestly, each person’s experience with it is their own I’m learning. I have my moments of frustration and confusion, but overall I’m too busy to really focus on it much. I’m not quite ready to pull my hair out, or prepared to run through the pregnancy test aisles of my nearest convenience store.
To be honest, I’m hopeful, but also cognizant of the fact that this may not work. It’s a fact that we all have to acknowledge when embarking on fertility treatments of any kind. We have to be honest with ourselves and our partners.
I know his/her name.
I know who I believe they will be.
All I don’t know, is if my thoughts align with God’s will.
And in my moments of doubt, I start to feel very strongly that if this doesn’t work, I will want and need to apologize.
To my job,
Although I’ve tried so hard not to actually take any days off other than retrieval and transfer, I know that mentally, I just wasn’t there for the past couple of months. Working in a child-heavy environment, I have worked SO hard for soo long to keep my fertility issues out of sight, that even with a sore backside and absolutely no energy after driving 40 miles roundtrip for bloodwork, I’ve been still attempting to keep things quiet. I worry that when this is all over, if I have nothing to show for it, I’ll feel even worse to see that I’ve let my work fall to the wayside.
To my family,
For taking some of them on this fragmented roller coaster ride that I’ve ridden solo for years previous. I knew this ride was dangerous, so any stress they’ve taken on for me was clearly my fault. My mom worries, and I’d just be so sorry to have made her take on so much extra stress. Because, there isn’t much they can actually do. The shots, the meds, and everything else falls on me and my husband, so really all I’m doing is giving them (possibly) false hope, and I would hate to have done that.
For putting myself through shots everyday for the past 60 or so days, and sometimes twice a day. For irritating my skin with the adhesive backing of estrogen patches. For almost choking myself with these oddly circular estrogen pills that get stuck in my esophagus four times a day. I’ve given myself time to process every piece of this journey, by taking myself out of my normal social circles and isolating myself to the point where people have started messaging me and asking if I’m alive and well. I’ve had to close myself off so that I can focus on these things I’m doing that are so far outside of my comfort zone, (shots, anyone?), and it’s made me feel awkward and anxious. If this doesn’t work, I’ll worry that I’ll have to repair those connections, while privately licking my wounds, and I wonder how that will change me.
But, I’m sure this is all normal, right?
All these feelings of trying to protect myself from hoping too much, while trying to keep myself at optimum performance. Resisting the urge to POAS because I know that if it doesn’t say what I want it to say that I’ll lose the will to keep moving forward. All of this, from the highest peak to the lowest depth, are all normal feelings. And hopefully, at the end of this two weeks, they’ll be irrelevant.