The Lonely-Lady Two-Step

The Lonely-Lady Two-Step

There are times when I’m glad I’m doing this on my own. Times when I think, thank fuck I get to make all the big decisions myself, like what school to send my kid to or whether to name it ‘Kale’ or ‘Quinoa’. Or ‘Gluten’. I don’t have to compromise with anyone and that suits me just fine. But then there are times like tonight when I wish things were different. Tonight was a big step in my IVF journey. Tonight I gave myself the big trigger injection to make my ovaries release their hold on the clutch of little eggs they’ve been working so hard to produce, so that in two days’ time they can be harvested. Each step you take in IVF is momentous, and the closer you get to potential pregnancy the more significant the step. But as supportive as my friends and family are, none of this means that much to them. Sure they’re excited for me, but they’re not invested like I am. Only a partner would be invested in a similar way. For one, none of my friends really understands the IVF process, because no one other than me has sat through all the doctor’s appointments and counseling sessions and blood tests and ultrasounds. For another, they all have their own important things going on. And I get that, I do. But when the nurse rings with the brilliant news that I’ve passed my latest blood tests and that now the egg collection is all set to happen, my support network suddenly goes AWOL. Instead of jumping up and down excitedly at the good news I spend the afternoon texting people to try and find someone to come with me to the hospital. I desperately want someone to share this experience with, and besides, for safety reasons the hospital won’t even admit me in the first place unless I have someone with me. If I had a partner there would be no question about it–they would be there by my side. But my friends all have jobs and funerals and holidays to attend to, and partners too of course, and all of a sudden no one is available. None of them understand the enormity of this occasion. This is a big deal. I’m going to be heavily sedated and then I’m going to have my eggs sucked out of me one by one by a giant needle. Each swollen follicle is going to be speared and sluiced and drained into a petrie dish. And even more traumatic is the chance that there might not even be any eggs to harvest. I want someone to share the excitement and I want someone to share the fear. I want someone to hold my hand next Wednesday when/if they inject the cluster of cells back inside me, a little life, a little person, being put back inside me to grow. And I want someone who can turn to me and say, Kale’s a fucking stupid name for a kid. What about Bonsoy?

3 thoughts on “The Lonely-Lady Two-Step

  1. It can be really crappy to do this alone. I hope someone is able to go with you to the egg collection. It really takes a strong woman to do IVF/ fertility treatment on your own. Good luck to you with the EC – I hope you get good results.


    1. Holly there is one person who is almost as invested in this as you. Better actually most of the time than a partner would ever be. Someone who has been there since your very own birth. Someone who loves you more than anyone else ever could. Your mum.

      My mum shared all the special moments with me when I went through pregnancy without a partner. We spent days, weeks, months choosing one name after another for girl or boy. She was my support person during my home birth and she was there for me and my baby through sickness and in health from that day on. My baby is now 20 and her grandma is almost as special to her as her mama.
      So yes sometimes it will feel lonely and bittersweet but you can feel like that in a relationship too. You’ll be fine my girl. And if you’re not just call your mum., your sister … or Auntie JoJo.
      Wish I didn’t live so far away so I could be there for those times when you need someone there. Your mum is on her way back to Oz just at the right time I think. Fingers crossed xxx


  2. Thank you 🙂 Yeah for some reason it’s been really hard to get anyone to understand what a big deal collection day is. I’m probably going to want to go straight home and curl into a ball and cry after, but I’ve had all these people invite me out to dinner or offer to come to the hospital as support, but only for an hour or two.


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