I just got news that a friend’s third attempt at IVF failed and my heart ached. It ached for her pain, for shattered hope.
I told her how very sorry I was to hear the disappointing news but I had no other words of comfort. I knew that no words will make that dull ache in her heart go away. No words will make her see the light at the end of the tunnel because whatever glimmer of light there was, it was snuffed out by that big fat fail.
It’s back to the drawing board because the damn cycle failed. For my friend, it will be her third attempt. For others, it may be the 10th. These same infertility warriors will, after buckets of tears and whys, sit back and wonder if they have the physical, mental and emotional strength to pick themselves up again to try another cycle for just one more time. Because maybe, just maybe, that one more time will lead them to the outcome that they have been yearning for.
Those wretched feelings came right back to me because I have, in simple terms, been there, done that. Even though we got our happily ever after with Elliott, I remember the years of trying, of yearning, of wanting. Those memories are hard to forget. I kept a locked blog during those days and I sought solace by writing everything down. From the emotions to the actual procedures, I wrote it all. Till today, reading those entries bring a tear to my eye because I remember every single emotion from those days.
Those days of that aching pain in the gut when yet another “I wasn’t trying at all!” friend told you chirpily that she’s pregnant. Those days of averting my eyes whenever I spotted a pregnant woman on the streets. Those days of looking at kids at the playground and wondering if I’d ever have one to call my own. Those days of avoiding all things baby-related.
Those days are gone but I remember them, and I remember them well.
What kept me going during those days was the support of the husband, as well as the fervent belief that if I try hard enough, we will get there. One day. Of course, this blind faith was shaken many many times but I now know very well that what I used to believe in hold true. The belief that things happen for a reason, at the right time, at the right place. It was hard to see it then but I see it clearly now. What if Elliott never came along? What if I never became a mother? I have no answers. But I guess ultimately, we will all find our happily ever afters, regardless of what form it takes.
So to all who are still waiting for the stork to visit, hang in there. The road ahead is tough and the end may seem no where in sight. Take a deep breath and carry on. Tomorrow is a brand new day with new hope.