Saturday, March 12, 2011

ivf

the ivf process is complicated. it's exhausting. it's stressful. it pulls you in different directions. i've generally been okay, but my poor tummy is so bruised, my emotions are all over with the damn hormones, and the frequent doctors appointments are time consuming.

we're getting close to retrieval. i'm trying not to think too much about it. i'm trying to stay positive and hopeful. really at this point, what else can i do? i've stopping drinking caffeine and alcohol, i'm doing acupuncture, i'm trying to stay peaceful but focused.

while i was in the office this morning for the routine of bloodwork and ultrasound to monitor my hormone levels and how my eggs are growing, i had a strange experience. i was in the waiting room with several other women waiting for bloodwork, and a women walked in pushing a stroller.

now this is hard to truly understand if you've never experienced infertility. i remember before i had noah, the bitterness i had toward those women. they had the audacity to bring their child to the fertility clinic!? it was the same feeling i would get anytime i'd see a pregnant woman or new baby. sort of a weight in the bottom of your stomach. a heavy ache. a pain that is hard to explain without experiencing it for yourself.

well when that woman walked in the waiting room today, i didn't quite feel that ache, but it felt weird and awkward. you see, i am still so cognizant of how women might look at me with a small child. how they might be bitter toward me or jealous of my luck to be able to have a child.

my world has been shaken this past year, and i truly have a better appreciation for my noah, and all the children in my life. i think those who've walked with me this past year have felt a change in perspective too, and while i think i was feeling anguish for the other women in that room, i was also still feeling it for stacy. i think of how she would feel if she were one of the people in that room, and it reminds me to never take my baby or my good fortune for granted.

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