Nothing beats a moment of clarity. We all have them every once in a while: after mulling over different options or scenarios you know with absolute certainty how to proceed. This week I had one of those.
For the past couple of months I have felt ambivalent about this whole process. Last May we put a nice stash of embryos into the freezer and over the year completed 3 transfers. I was even pregnant a couple of times, and then not. I have yet to formulate the words to describe the emotional roller coaster that we have been on.
Suddenly, we found ourselves back to almost square one. However, by this point I was tired, uncertain, skeptical, scared and unmistakably aware of the toll that it was taking. “Keep at it” the doctors say we’ve only done two rounds and have had some “promising” results. Still, inside I was relieved that we would be taking a couple months off. It gave me time to forget, escape and reclaim my body.
As Passover came to a close I started to dwell on the inevitable, the day I would walk through the double doors of the fertility clinic and start the process all over again. As much as I knew what I had to do and all that it involved, I could not accept it. My energy reserves were all cashed out and I did not know how I would do the seemingly impossible.
I kept hinting to Tommy, but I was torn because I also knew that we were not ready to stop. I just could not figure out how to begin.
It hit me as I sat in a course given by the university’s psych. services designed to help staff members recognize and respond to mental health issues among students. As I listened to the psychologist speak about identifying the needs of a student in distress, I thought “what do I need?” “how do I move forward?” This time I had the answer: I needed Tommy.
The first step in IVF, and various other fertility treatments, is to track the woman’s cycle up to the point of ovulation. It involves a blood test and ultrasound every few days. It’s pretty straightforward and therefore many women do this stage on their own. It didn’t make sense for both of us to miss work and Tommy’s presence was not required.
Something had changed and Tommy’s presence had become absolutely critical. It was the starting point because I knew that he would have the strength to open those cumbersome double doors and share the burden. The rest was on me, but this he could and would do.
I sent Tommy a text with my realization and the bottom line: “I need you.”
Thirty seconds after I received his response: “No problem.”