Make no mistake: it's not bravery, it's the fear of giving up

We went into IVF #1 thinking that was going to be long and drawn out and scary. It was. But we thought it would work. Now IVF #2 is over. We went into it armed with the information that it was going to be long and drawn out and scary...and, more importantly, we did it with first-hand knowledge that it doesn't always work. We did it knowing it could all be for nothing. The injections, the side effects, the emotional strain, the money...the list goes on. Maybe the scariest part of round 2 was having what little hope you had left ripped away. It was one thing for IVF #1 to fail. It shakes you up, but you tell yourself you just fell into that 60% statistic that doesn't get pregnant. But with IVF #2 you think: Ok, I've paid my dues...this one will work.

But it doesn't. For the second time, I woke up today - the day of my pregnancy test - to discover my period had started. It wasn't a surprise, I knew days ago it was on its way. But for the first time, I wasn't sad. In fact I think some of the anger is even going away. Frustration - now that's here to stay. But the biggest thing that hit me was: determination. I made an immediate decision: I'll do it again.

In the words of one of my favorite infertile bloggers:

“I don’t think I am being brave at all. I am just too terrified not to try again.”
-Tertia Albertyn

I remember walking out of my first IVF cycle. I was leaving the hospital after my pregnancy test. I knew it was negative. I had started my period the night before. I was walking to my car crying. Not just because it didn’t work: I had this fleeting moment of panic where I kept thinking about J….and how if something happened to him, he’d be lost forever. No child left behind on this planet that could inherit his patient temperament, his goofy sense of humor, or his romantic streak. I’d be alone. His parents would be left with nothing. My fatalistic approach to the world.

I’ve decided to do IVF again. Against my own rationale that says my body has had enough, against the advice of friends and family, against my own husband’s wishes. J doesn’t want to do it. He doesn’t want me to go through it again. But if I think about it, it’s not even a choice I have to make. It’s the only option that doesn’t feel like giving up. I’m not ready to give up. I feel like if I give up, all this was in vain. Not only the physical, mental, emotional and financial sacrifices we’ve made, but the months and years we’ve spent in limbo waiting for this to happen…the months between cycles that we’ve spent wallowing in guilt and blame and sorrow. I can’t think of anything worse than calling it quits and making this all for nothing. I’m too scared to pursue other options. I’m not ready to throw in the towel. Something good has to come out of it. It just has to.

Right?