There is something special about February. It’s the month of love. It’s the month we first met on a dance floor in London 9 years ago in 2003. It’s the month we decided we wanted to start a family 3 years later in 2006. It was so special and romantic for us to make that decision then. Little did we know what kind of journey lay ahead and that wanting to have children is something completely different from actually being able to make it happen. Now, 6 years later, it’s February again and I have entered the realm of the 2nd trimester of my first pregnancy.
February now feels more magical than ever before. But it also makes me think back on all those years of living with unexplained infertility and going through fertility treatment. These 6 years have changed me and us forever. I can’t imagine myself and our life any other way. We have learned that life is unpredictable and beyond our control. We have learned that nothing can or should be taken for granted. We have learned that it is possible to be happy even when life is turning out so differently from what we had imagined. We have learned that resisting what is only creates more suffering. At the same time, we have also learned that there are subtle, but very important, differences between denial and acceptance. We have learned that there is a time to let go and rest, but that there is also a time to start fighting again. We have learned that living outside the social norm is difficult, especially when you have had no choice in the matter, but also liberating. It teaches you to find your own way and to make conscious choices about who you are and how you want to live within the limits of whatever life is handing you. It has make us stronger and closer as a couple.
To put it differently, we have learned that being involuntarily ‘stuck’ in a liminal life state like infertility for years is painful on many levels, but also transformational. Looking back on my posts prior to IVF and pregnancy, I did know this when we were still in the trenches (see for instance this post), but only tentatively. It is much easier to reflect on it now when I’m no longer in the same state. As I do so, I realize to my surprise that I don’t actually wish that these years had been any different or that we had been spared the long journey to get to this point. I also realize that the only reason I can feel and say this is because the liminal state of infertility has effectively ended for us. For now at least. Over the course of the first three month of pregnancy I have transitioned into a new state – that of pregnancy. We have not become parents yet, but for the first time ever we are actually on our way there. We can see the light at the end of tunnel. This last stage of the journey is significantly different from any of the stages that have come before because the creation of a new life is no longer theoretical and impossible. It is happening. A new life is coming into being slowly and steadily with every day that passes.
We resisted IVF for a long time, but in the end it was IVF that made the miracle possible. Yesterday we went for the NT scan* and got to see our little miracle dancing again. He/she was making it very difficult to get the measurements done because of all the moving around. As the technician was waiting patiently for the right position we had lots of time to enjoy the show and revel in the representation of our miracle on the screen. I’m still in awe. I still can’t quite grasp that it’s really happening, because it has seemed like a complete impossibility for so long. But I’m getting there slowly. More so now when the morning sickness has lessened because I’m functioning more normally again. We have not looked at baby stuff or anything like that yet, but a few days ago I started looking at websites of hospitals in London to try to get an idea of where to give birth since we are moving there. As I was watching a little video that took you on a tour of a birth center, tears started streaming down my face. It was hitting me. It’s happening, it’s real. I’m pregnant. We are going to have a baby.
*Update 16/2-2012: We received a letter two days after the scan with the assessment of the risk for Down’s Syndrome etc. based on the combination of blood results, NT measurement (1.1) and my age (37). The risk was assessed to be 1 in 11000, which is reassuringly low for my age.