What They Don't Tell You About IVF

Before beginning this last ditch IVF cycle I read everything I could about it. I was prepared for the bloodletting, ultrasounds, injections, pills, constant monitoring, instructions and everything. I was prepared for the anesthesia and giant needle of retrieval. I was prepared to expect anything at the fertilization report. And after transfer, even with my sucky fertilization results, I found that I could look back on it all and feel like it was a piece of cake. Something I could even do again and again, if it weren't for the whole rotten egg and high price tag. Looking back, it felt easy.

What they don't tell you about, what they don't prepare you for, is what happens after the negative beta. This is the part where all my cavalierness is coming back to haunt me.

This is where the suffering and pain is.

This is where the darkness is.

This is where the emptiness is.

This is where I cry all day long.

This is where I can't focus on anything.

This is where I have no interest in anything.

This is where I stay in my jammies until the afternoon.

This is where I shower right before Brian comes home so he doesn't know what I've been up to all day.

This is where I don't want to leave the house.

This is where I'm afraid I have lost hope.

This is where I am for the first time truly mourning my miscarriage, and realize what I have lost.

This is where I just want my life back.

This is where our "next step" looks out of reach and unrealistic as well.

This is where the end of the road is.

And I don't want to be here. But I'm here and I just can't stand it. And I don't know when I'll get out. If there is an out. And this is the part nobody tells you about.