Yesterday I was setting up my vitamin box with all my egg quality supplements for the week, and I thought, I won’t have to do this for much longer. I got my calendar from CCRM for my last ever IVF stimulation with my own eggs. I’m in the priming cycle now, and at the end of October, my ovaries will sing their swan song. How appropriate, while the dying leaves turn lovely in their last moments before winter hibernation, two cycles synchronized. It’s strange, after so much toil, now that IVF and the management of the resulting minutia have over the years taken center stage in our lives, for this to be ending one way or the other.
I would have thought that it would feel, well, some sort of way, but really it’s almost anticlimactic. The process of banking and freezing–of pulling IVF apart and spreading its pieces over the course of several months, of going through stimulation without the angst of transfer and waiting and pregnancy test–has neutralized the emotional piece for the time being. I went out on a high note: the only available data points were positive, and any potential bad news is frozen, literally, in time. How bizarre it was to wait for AF after my egg retrieval, knowing she would come and feeling completely relaxed, no giant needles every night, no pregnancy symptoms and mood swings from progesterone, no anticipation of the beta call that otherwise dominates my thoughts in the normal routine of a cycle. My emotions–stress, worry, excitement, disappointment, grief–are all cryopreserved in Colorado along with seven tiny embryos we have yet to watch grow.