The wall

If you're lucky, you never hit it. You get pregnant on your first or second cycle. Or you're stubborn enough, and your results encouraging enough, that you persist until you do.

If you're unlucky, you slam into it headfirst, unexpectedly, with enough force to shake every conviction you have. It's the kind of crash to jar a marriage loose, to dislocate even the firmest faith, to tear your self-love loose clean off its moorings. A cancellation, a miscarriage, nothing to transfer, another fucking negative. Bam.

Some people see it coming. They know that an upcoming cycle is their last. It could be money, age, or the toll on relationships telling them to stop. But often it's as simple, sure, and heartbreaking as the knowledge that I can't stand what it's doing to me.

I'm thinking about the last year and a half. When I look back, I honestly can't believe I kept going. When I think about the accumulated hurts, I cry more now than I did when they were incurred. I can't understand what made me so obstinate. I can only conclude that I just hadn't hit that wall.

I was lucky. Not only did I never hit it, I never even really saw it. Was it too far down the road for me to see? Or was I just too busy turning up the radio, singing, "LA LA LA!" at the top of my lungs, to know it was right in front of me?

I'm thinking of my friends today. Karen, who's moving ahead with her heart in her throat. Jo, who's put her foot down. Danae, who is having embryos returned to her body today for what may be the last time.

And of Mollie, who said no to ART, and adopted a fine and lovely son whom she'd never have known otherwise. And Dawn, who went only so far before saying, "Enough," rewarded at last with a daughter.

They hit it. They've sustained varying degrees of injury, these remarkable women. I know because they've been generous enough and brave enough to tell us what it's like. If there's any hope to be found, it's in the knowledge that some of them have turned defeat into a beautiful, astonishing victory.

And the rest of them surely will.

Good luck today, Danae.

Posted by Julie at 10:25:03 AM in I've learned a lot...but I'm not sure it's worth it.

Comments

The wall

If you're lucky, you never hit it. You get pregnant on your first or second cycle. Or you're stubborn enough, and your results encouraging enough, that you persist until you do.

If you're unlucky, you slam into it headfirst, unexpectedly, with enough force to shake every conviction you have. It's the kind of crash to jar a marriage loose, to dislocate even the firmest faith, to tear your self-love loose clean off its moorings. A cancellation, a miscarriage, nothing to transfer, another fucking negative. Bam.

Some people see it coming. They know that an upcoming cycle is their last. It could be money, age, or the toll on relationships telling them to stop. But often it's as simple, sure, and heartbreaking as the knowledge that I can't stand what it's doing to me.

I'm thinking about the last year and a half. When I look back, I honestly can't believe I kept going. When I think about the accumulated hurts, I cry more now than I did when they were incurred. I can't understand what made me so obstinate. I can only conclude that I just hadn't hit that wall.

I was lucky. Not only did I never hit it, I never even really saw it. Was it too far down the road for me to see? Or was I just too busy turning up the radio, singing, "LA LA LA!" at the top of my lungs, to know it was right in front of me?

I'm thinking of my friends today. Karen, who's moving ahead with her heart in her throat. Jo, who's put her foot down. Danae, who is having embryos returned to her body today for what may be the last time.

And of Mollie, who said no to ART, and adopted a fine and lovely son whom she'd never have known otherwise. And Dawn, who went only so far before saying, "Enough," rewarded at last with a daughter.

They hit it. They've sustained varying degrees of injury, these remarkable women. I know because they've been generous enough and brave enough to tell us what it's like. If there's any hope to be found, it's in the knowledge that some of them have turned defeat into a beautiful, astonishing victory.

And the rest of them surely will.

Good luck today, Danae.