The Break

APATHY was beside me holding my hand when I got the second embryo put it. There was NO hope in my soul this time, just a sick feeling that I had gone through all this pain for NOTHING.

Out of 2 eggs retrieved, one miraculously fertilized and it somehow survived till Day 3. This was, of course, in the public clinic where they do not grow them till Day 5.

They told me there isn’t clear evidence around this; Day 3 vs Day 5.

My own research proved otherwise, but I’m not the expert. What do I know?

They do have success in the public clinic, but I still questioned if I was too complicated for its protocol.

APATHY was loyal this time, and stuck around for a few weeks until I received the bad news AGAIN.

This time I expected it.

I didn’t even do a home pregnancy test.

I thanked APATHY for getting me through the “two week wait from hell”. He nodded obligingly, tipped his hat and with a little wink he left me to face the wave of EMOTIONS that was about to flow over the weak wall that we had built together.

I almost begged him to stay, but long-term apathy can cause destruction and I knew that he had other people he needed to help. And I hoped, that like me, they would thank him for his temporary presence and then allow him to go when the time was right. Some won’t let him leave, even though he warns them of the dangers. They get addicted to his soothing numbness.

But who wants to live numb?

Our ICU social worker, Liz Crow, once pointed out that in order to experience extreme highs, you must allow yourself to experience the extreme lows. They are directly reciprocal to each other. It sounds so easy when written down, but to actually experience it would test me to my core.

When the 2nd cycle failed my life screeched to a halt.

I was DONE.

I couldn’t take another step forward.

“I feel weak,” I confessed to the Psychologist, “I see other women persevering, cycle after cycle after cycle,” I sighed in self-judgement, “and I just can’t do it.”

And it wasn’t that I was choosing NOT to do another round; I couldn’t do another round even if I wanted to. I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted.

DEPLETED was how I started IVF.

EMPTY (or more like “in-the-negative”) was how I ended.

But, as we all do, I was comparing myself to other women: women who (I perceived) seem to have an never-ending supply of resilience and strength and determination, making me feel weak and uncommitted.

I tried to rationalize: going into IVF after trying for a year or two (WITHOUT chronic pain, severe endometriosis, multiple surgeries and THOUSANDS of dollars already spent) perhaps meant that you had more of a reserve for persevering.

Or maybe they wanted it more than me….

Wow.

Can you see the detrimental downward spiral of internal and mental anguish and hell that transpires in our own minds?

For goodness sake, this journey is bad enough, why do we make it worse with blame, shame, comparison and guilt?

The Psychologist shook her head gently in disagreement with my own self-analysis. “I don’t see it that way at all,” she countered, “in fact, it’s the other way around.”

My eyes narrowed in curiosity.

“It actually takes ALOT of strength to STOP and to SIT in the discomfort and pain of this crisis,” she continued.

I was listening.

“You are choosing to prolong your journey and your discomfort. You are choosing to sit with the unknown and deal with your emotions, and that is harder than if you kept going.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. All I knew is that I desperately wanted this journey to end. The unknown was killing me, and yet I was prolonging my journey.

She explained how some women get OBSESSED with the outcome, and with this hyper-focused tunnel vision they continue with multiple cycles regardless of the consequences to their physical health, their emotional health, their marriage, their relationships, their finances and their life. As long as they are stoically bulldozing their way through this crisis they think that the outcome (a child) will solve the problem and that the painful, uncomfortable emotions will then dissipate.

Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.

Emotions are energy. And as we all know – energy is never destroyed, it must be transferred. So if it is suppressed……..it WILL eventually erupt.

As a midwife and pediatric nurse I have seen COUNTLESS couples suffer from the repercussions of avoidance during the difficult journey through infertility and IVF. I have seen high rates of postnatal depression, divorce and even “shaken babies” (yes -this is confronting – IVF babies who haven been shaken to death) as results of suppressed, unaddressed issues AFTER experiencing infertility and IVF.

This journey IS a life crisis (even though most people don’t recognise it that way….but ignore them, what do they know) so take this journey seriously.

So that’s what I decided to do.

The Psychologist tried to convince me that I was strong. I faltered in my belief, but with slightly renewed strength I continued on the path that I had chosen.

I’d chosen to take a break – a long one – and it was gut wrenching to know that I was CHOOSING to prolong my pain, my suffering and the length of the unknown.

Besides, my gut feeling was telling me that IVF wasn’t going to work for me. I don’t know why I felt that way, but I felt a deep hopelessness that permeated my soul and made me want to weep uncontrollably.

Something was wrong (again) and I didn’t know what.

It was like déjà vu.

I’d felt this feeling before, and I had trusted it, though I had NO reasonable and logical explanation as to why my entire being was rejecting the thought of further treatments.

And I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to get answers, but in the meantime I needed to deal with the difficult questions that were wracking my soul.

What if I went through all this for nothing?

What if it never happens?

What will my life look like?

What if we don’t survive this?

What if my marriage falls apart in the process?

What if I never get answers?

Taking a break gave me a profound sense of relief, but I was also dreading the months ahead. I knew they were NOT going to be fun or easy.

I was CHOOSING this.

I was CHOOSING to stop.

I was CHOOSING to take my husband and I further into the unknown territory of mental anguish and continued torture and discomfort.

And even though I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, I actually had NO idea how hard it was going to be…….. or what was yet to come.