Patience

IVF is an exercise in Olympic-level patience.

It is a marathon of limbos. A series of lessons in forced—and sometimes embraced—stoicism.

The first time one miscarries, or fails a cycle, or is called about a negative beta…is a tragedy. The fifth time, is a cold numbness that seeps into the heart and lies in wait for the next tragedy.

I am not religious, and so unfortunately in my case, I do not have the intrinsic security of God’s Plan—although I admire those who have it. Envy, even.

Without it though, I have always tried to find meaning in each set back. To believe, if not that it was “meant to be”—to find some explanation that would make the event palatable to the psyche.

For my first miscarriage, it was to connect with other women, and to find a way to help others who had been through the experience (I created a free course about healing from miscarriage).

For IVF, it was to face and shed the shame that my body didn’t work the way it was supposed to, the fear that I was not a “real woman” if I lacked the innate ability to create life.

For the near downfall my business (which led to me needing to go back to work earlier than I wanted to after the birth of my son thanks to IVF), it was to provide the community of caregivers in my own parents and in my husband sharing the responsibility of raising an amazing human together.

But as much as reasons can be created in hindsight—especially where there may be a positive outcome—what of the time in between? The time before we have found some way of making the initially unthinkable seem survivable, even tolerable?

For the last year, in that “in-between time”, I’ve noticed myself searching less for reasons why.

I admit there can be a certain kind of pain that comes with there being no reason. If something is an utterly random, completely uncontrollable event, it can create a sense of one’s agency being ripped away, of being tossed down a raging river with no raft to cling onto. But there are moments where it can be freeing.

If the reason something bad happens is not because we are being punished, not because we have some lesson to learn, not because some psychic said it was “meant to be” or the key to the next step in our journey, but simply because this is the life we are living…then we do not need the burden of wrestling with any guilt within ourselves. And far from lacking meaning—it can instead become the impetus that propels us to the “next step”. Even if that next step is the incredibly hard call to end IVF without our longed-for child. For me personally over the past year, that propeller has been to keep researching, keep pushing for more from my medical team. And now after the latest bump, it has meant to simply “keep going”.

Whatever it means for you, wherever you draw your meaning from, or the time before or in-between meaning, if there is a way to let go of any negative meanings you may be buying into like, “my body doesn’t work” or “I’m not good enough” or “maybe I’m not meant to be a parent” or “maybe god is punishing me”, I urge you to find that way. Because IVF is an exercise in Olympic-level patience. And how you spend time waiting is half the battle.

I’d love to learn what meanings you have given during waiting—or even thought but now discarded? Or how much thought you each give to meaning at all?