Waiting for the pregnancy test to give you your results.
Two week wait.
Waiting for the ovulation test to give your your results...and then start all over.
There is also the waiting rooms at the doctor's. Another uncomfortable wait.
Here was our wait with our last visit.
Waking up before the sun always makes it feel like an adventure. The darkness created this sense of protection from our reality. It was dark enough where no one could possibly know what was happening. As the sun came into view it lit the sky up with fire. The coffee helped greet the light with confidence. It is a weird feeling, driving to the fertility center, not knowing what is about to come. I felt strong and secure as we flew down the highway.
Entering the fertility clinic brought up a whole new slew of emotions. This was only our second visit and yet in an instant I was brought back to insecurity. We can feel so strong and resilient for so long, and just as you walk in the door, strength walks out. It reminded me of middle school, walking in with your head held high, smiling at others and secretly holding it all together inside. Wonder what others are thinking. Did strength stay with them as they came in? I held my breath, bottling up emotions to keep tears from falling in public. There were so many of us in here and yet we were not talking to each other. I had so many questions! Where are you in your journey? Are you thinking of IVF? Doesn’t that scare you? Are you sacred at all? Did you always want kids? Is the life you always pictured crashing down before you? Did you cry this morning?
We did not wait long and went to meet with the urologist. He was kind and made an effort to crack some jokes. Smiling helped but it was still completely awkward. I searched the room for a sign that this was the right path for our journey. I have picked a feather as a sign that shows me the way, but I didn’t find any. I tried to make something else in its place, anything to make me feel better, but the lump in my throat stayed in place. I continued to hold my breath only allowing that smallest bits of air to fill my lungs.
After an exam we left with a few more tests needing to be done and nothing set in stone for our future. The ride home was much heavier than the ride there. I did not know what to say. The lump in my throat was still present. These moments are the hard ones. The places where it feels like love is not around and is needed the most. I know that I love my husband and he loves me, but in those dark minutes there are no words. I recall my wedding vows where I said, “ I will be here, even when it sucks…” Well, this sucks. We began the conversation and said words, yet still nothing makes this easier. Not words, nor hand caresses or even kisses takes this ache away. Well, nothing except our love for each other. We know that is there, even when it sucks.
Fertility journeys are unique for every person. Even the people in the relationships have different ideas on the situation.There we sat, holding hands in the car, thoroughly loving each other and still reacting differently. I am a highly emotional person. My husband is not. And yet we make it work. In fact, I feel like we fucking crush it at marriage. This includes those dark moments in the car after leaving the doctor’s office, after trying for over three years, after it all we still love the shit out of each other. And that is a powerful thing. In these moments, we must hold on to what is working in our lives... and for us, its love. Love truly keeps us together and overall happy. Even when it feels like love is not in the car, or home, or even in your heart we can thankfully know that it is a passing moment. This is meant to be felt but with the knowledge that it will be gone soon.
Getting home and still feeling the lump in my throat I unconsciously began my self-care actions. Step 1: Put on a cheesy romantic comedy. Step 2: Put on a Korean face mask while listening to the drama unfold in the movie. Step 3: Marco Polo my friend to debrief. She asks about the movie I am watching and I say it is a really good one ( it is not.) Step 4: Grab a handful of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate covered powerberries. Step 5: Finish the movie and be grateful the couple made it through. Think about how much I love my husband. Step 6: Write. Step 7: Epsom salt bath to let go of the day.
This was not a fun memory we will look back on. I will not recall laughter or smiles. One thing that did stand out for us were the others in the waiting room. There were quite a few. And even though no one spoke to each other, as we walked past everyone and out the door I sent them all a wish of love. Love for the moments in the car when you feel like love is not there. Love for after your appointment when you enter the world and others have no idea. Love for the moment when you and your partner let go of hands and continue on with your days. We are not alone in this. I send you love.
