May 10th 2016:
I walked hesitantly into the small consultation room. We had been in this room before, and I had learned to hate it. When we were told that IVF was our only option at expanding our family, we heard those words within these confined walls.
We sat down. Fidgeting, I placed the red folder onto the small round table. I was nervous. Visibly so. I think Jason sensed my discomfort and took my hand. The other hand I kept busy sipping on my coffee trying to calm my senses.
As the nurse went through the paperwork and the entire IVF process and as we signed page after page, I felt smaller and smaller. I sunk further and further into my seat. My breathing was quiet and strained. The nurse could sense I was struggling and she encouraged me that it was all going to be OK and that she would answer all of our questions the best that she could.
There is something you feel that is hard to explain when you’re told you have to rely on IVF for any chances of expanding your family. It’s suffocating. It’s incredibly overwhelming. But then there is an entirely different feeling when you’re officially told that you’re an IVF patient and you start going through the process. It’s absolutely terrifying.
I was constantly on the verge of tears during the IVF consult. I was unusually quiet, and for anyone who knows me, that’s an anomaly.
All I was hearing from the nurse as she was going through the timeline was: “you’ll need a shot on this day,” “shot on that day,” “you’ll need to take these pills,” “you’ll get several ultrasounds,” “you’ll get more tests done,” “you’ll get more blood work done,” “you’ll feel some discomfort” “you’ll only have a 5 minute window to take this shot” and other terrifying statements.
Was I going to be able to do this? I was convinced walking into this appointment that I’d be able to handle anything they threw at me, but could I really?
It’s not supposed to be this hard to have children. The process of IVF is sure to be both physically and emotionally consuming, which is something else that frightens me. It frightens us both.
As we completed all of the paperwork and checked out after an hour, I was exhausted. My brain hurt. My heart ache. My eyes hurt from straining to keep the tears from making an appearance.
I stopped in the entryway of the Fertility Center, silent. Jason knew I was upset.. More so, he knew how overwhelmed I was, and he reached for me as we hugged.
IVF is a process that definitely affects the woman more than the man (in my opinion). I understand the man will also experience their fair share of emotions, but a woman’s body is literally put through hell. Jason understands that. We both weren’t expecting truly how involved IVF was going to be for us both.
We want more children, so we have a consensus that if IVF is the only way to achieve that, then so be it.
We both have so many questions still. There are so many unknowns. We were so overwhelmed that we couldn’t talk much about it once we settled down for the night.
I doubt either of us truly slept well.
May 11th 2016:
For someone going through infertility, the monetary commitment that is required for IVF is gut-wrenching. Our insurance company doesn’t cover a dime, so after getting off the phone with our insurance prescription company today and learning the costs of all of the medications required for the procedure, I sat down feeling defeated. I held back the tears, heart broken. The financial burden associated with IVF is overwhelming and for most couples that alone will be the difference between having and not having children.
We are overwhelmed, but we aren’t giving up.
All that said, I pray that all those experiencing infertility know that they aren’t alone. There are others going through it that understand your pain. I pray for peace, comfort and love to all those battling infertility.
As we continue on the path of IVF, I pray that God blesses us and gives us the strength to handle the difficult journey ahead.
This is our IVF Journey..