Tuesday, February 17, 2009

The IVF twilight zone

The second meeting for the support group occurred last night. A truly nice group of women. They are all much more at the place of deciding on adoption/donor egg than I am. Three of them are already pursuing donor egg/adoption and the other one is more where I'm at, except really, really feeling that her treatments won't work.

As I sat there last night, I was thinking about how it has been great to meet this group of women and to have a place to talk and learn about all the paths available. At the same time, I was realizing that it must inevitably shape my perception of my chances and what lies ahead. Between starting this group and that mindblowing second opinion, I've had a lot to chew on mentally and emotionally for the past few weeks. Much of it not very hopeful. In fact, I have begun to grieve the loss of the idea that we will ever have a biological child.

I go in Thursday for the co-culture biopsy and will see my RE. And I expect him to be his chipper, optimistic self about all this. Funny thing is, I feel like I've traveled a great distance from where I was at when he and I and Will last met and he said he thought we had a great chance.

And yet nothing has truly changed.

My prognosis is the same as it was a few weeks ago - good or bad. My chances remain the same. It feels truly surreal to be going in to IVF #4 with the sense that it won't work and we will go to Colorado (More realistically, it feels like it might work, but overwhelmingly isn't likely to.)

So that's what I'm trying to wrap my head around today. How my perspective on all this has inexorably changed, and yet nothing has changed externally in our situation.

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension
as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between
light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit
of (a wo)man's fears and the summit of (her) knowledge. This is the dimension of

Science and superstition? The space between fear and knowledge?

Sounds like the elusive and yet all-too-real IVF Twilight Zone.


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  1. i really hope that it goes well. do you get conscious sedation for the biopsy? i hope so! maybe it's easy, who knows....

    i like your description of the IVF twilight zone :)

  2. Mo - I know exactly what you mean. It's amazing how life experiences between treatments and exposure to other perspectives can alter your hopes when, in reality, nothing has happened biologically.

    It's hard to stay hopeful - I am just trying to get comfortable on our path to parenthood - whatever it means for us.

    Thinking of you and feeling like I'm wandering through the Twilight Zone myself.

  3. I loved the way you articulated how you think it won't work and then explained how it is more like, it might. I am soooo right there with you. I guess that means the fire of hope still burns somewhere?


  4. I have found hope to be the most elusive, unexplainable thing. It does lie in the twilight zone, almost visible, at moments.

  5. Totally hear what you're saying about the twilight zone, and also about your perspective totally changing even though your circumstances haven't.

    Here's hoping that hope emerges for you from that twilight zone.

  6. I'm so sorry. I really really hope this IVF works and you don't have to answer all those questions that are bouncing around in your head.

  7. I know when I started going to a support group around here I thought it was great as well but I started leaving with more of a negative feeling then a positive because they all kept talking about how I should go out of state and stuff. The info was nice to have but gave me little hope and so eventually I stopped going. I really hope everything goes well with IVF 4. I am keeping fingers crossed for you.

  8. I hope you are comfortable with company in your twilight zone... I'm so there with you...
    it's fascinating how our minds can travel to different places according to the information we are fed. And then, it carries our hearts through the ups and downs of what we are believing in any given moment.

  9. Good luck with your biopsy. The RE that does them is great. I am so scared by old REs that have hurt me and it is nice that the REs at this clinic are so much better. Don't forget your tylenol. Don't you think they should give us something better for having core samples taken?

  10. Oh yes, hope. I find it reassuring actually that our perspective can change without our circumstances changing.

    I think it is great that you have a Plan B... but I am hopeful that you won't need it.

  11. A thousand hugs Mo. I wish this were easier for you. It is just so unfair. I know it is hard to be hopeful. But hang in there.

  12. I was feeling this just today...like I was floating above the reality of my situation as a casual observer. Like I am going through this in another life and getting to watch it all at the same time.

    It really is a twilight zone!

  13. I'm glad tomorrow's the day, time to get this show on the road, huh? I'm sending you "cool as a cucumber" thoughts during the procedure. Will you speak with your doctor about the CCRM discussion...or is the timing off?


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