Yesterday my nurse rang me to tell me the bad news that I already knew. My 5th IVF attempt was unsuccessful. I bombarded her with questions. Should I change Doctors, should I try Day 3 embryos instead of Day 5? Should I do this? Should I do that? In the process of asking questions, I burst into tears.
She was very understanding and asked me if I felt I needed to see a counsellor. I didn’t know. I had mixed feelings about it when she asked. I am a strong person. I think I am coping fine but the last time and this time have hit me harder than the other times. Maybe I do need to see a counsellor. The thing is that I am grieving for someone that hasn’t happened. No one has died. I know this makes it difficult for people to understand. But maybe I am grieving for the loss of hope or my dream of becoming a parent. Each failure brings this growing realisation that maybe my plans for parenthood are never to be. No – I am not giving up on IVF. I will persevere although I don’t know for how long. What I do know is that each failure pushes you in this direction.
With some doubts, I agreed to speak to a counsellor and I expect to hear from them next week. However, the Counsellor rang late Friday afternoon to arrange a time. This is happening too quickly but as it turns out, it is not. All Saturday appointments are booked out and the next available weekday appointment is Friday week in the afternoon. I check my work diary and there is a meeting organised. I decide there and then that I don’t need to be there. I think I should accept the appointment. I think it is also in the interests of my employer that they have happy people working for them so will discuss this with my Manager when I return to work on Monday.
Oh and what were the answers to my questions. Now that’s a long story and I am going to save that one for another day. Stay tuned.