The Sad Reality

The sad reality of Infertility … it never leaves you, even when you’re having two months ‘off’.

I snuck out of work early today (erm – that would be 5.45) and went for one of those awesome cheapo Vietnamese manicures. I was sitting there, blissed into meditation by the hum of lady-chat in a language I don’t understand, and the amazing hand massages they give – then:

BAM

My eyes snapped open, my head whipped down and my heart started thumping: she was using alcohol wipes to clean the cream off my nails.

There. Right there. It was the smell of an IVF round. It was the smell of my standing in my kitchen, belly bared, wiping down ready for the needle. It was the smell of lying on the couch, clutching ice to my stomach ’til it stung. The smell of hope. The smell of failure.

And I was just getting a fucking manicure.

 

(image: thank you)

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6 thoughts on “The Sad Reality

  1. It’s unbelievable the things that trigger us sometimes. There’s a yoga pose I can’t do without crying. There are clothes I can’t wear anymore. For me it’s not IVF, but miscarriages. I have “miscarriage underwear” “miscarriage pants” even a “miscarriage teddy bear”.
    Urgh.

  2. I get it. It’s PTSD for the infertile. That’s what I’m realizing, as I get my life together to start IVF…that part of the reason I’m putting it off is that I’m so used to disappointments, I’m afraid that the successes will never come.

    Alcohol wipes…let’s associate them now with ditching work for a mani, ok? 🙂

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