One cup for bloodwork and ultrasound. Another for urine test, AMH and SHG. A cup for bloodwork and ultrasound again. Then, one for medication. One for injection. A third cup of bloodwork and ultrasound. Maybe one for timed intercourse. Or a better cup for IUI. A fourth cup of bloodwork and ultrasound. And a fifth. And we are already intoxicated but will go back for more. Another round of bloodwork with a shot of no-baby. Let's drink this all over again, as we lay waste at the feet of Fertility Treatment, the modern-day Maeve of women's health.
When I first entered the world of fertility care, I thought I was stepping into a technicolour paradigm shift of wonders and scientific progress. Everything felt so precise and measured, brimming with the smell of hope that pervaded the clinic (or was that hand sanitizer?). This wasn’t just the pure pursuit of knowledge for the sake of intellectual curiosity. This was where real science met application, where dreams of starting a family and miracles of conception mingled to create magic. Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. But Oz didn’t last long. Fast forward several months later and the rose-tinted glasses fell somewhere between endless appointments and disappointment, stamped on and sort of, quite broken.
Instead, it now feels like fumbling in the fog, like the one that has descended upon us over here in the North. An uncomfortable blanket of white illusion that veils the eyes. No matter how hard I try to squint reality into focus, everything remains blurry and confused like a Neptunian ocean. I can’t see what is behind me and ahead is a vaporous unknown. That is how I experience unexplained infertility. This feeling of not understanding what got us here and simultaneously not knowing which way to go in order to move forward. All I see is the next medical appointment. And I feel completely burnt out. At the height of my exhaustion, when I recognised that I could no longer hold together the cracks in my life with duck tape, I made a decision that felt so revolutionary at the time. I decided to stop fertility treatment.
Not forever, I just wanted a break for one cycle. Not a single medical appointment in sight for almost four weeks: no medication, no injection, no IUI. What?! That was the most empowered decision I made in seven months. And all the possibilities of free time and mental space were suddenly wide open. I finally had the energy to return to my practice. I was no longer enchanted, but I still wanted to be in chant.
The freedom lasted not even a cycle. Excuse you, said my soul, but I have contracts to fulfill. Two weeks after my last cycle at the clinic where we attempted an IUI, I had an ectopic pregnancy. That was quickly followed by more medical monitoring: bloodwork, ultrasound, urine, sono.. You name it, I’ve done it all over again. And just like that, treatment snuck right back in like the sly fox she is. Could I make the choice again of taking a break? I don’t know, I’m not sure. This is the fog that has engulfed my brain, I cannot see clearly and I’m too confused to make a decision.
Maybe I just want to trust in the process. Not the process of the medical treatment (but sure, that too), rather the unfolding of the universe. To live it as far as I can see on a terrifyingly foggy day, that is, in the present exactly where I stand. Because very deep down, there is this uncomfortable feeling that this is what I was meant to experience in this lifetime. That my soul chose this. That there are lessons that she wants to learn and she wants them in this way.
With what I know of astrology and how I have observe the sequences of my life, I no longer believe that we as human beings have free will. Because it was decided at the time before we incarnated. The only true choice we have is choosing how we feel. And this is how I’m feeling it right now: a bit of blind trust and a lot of brain fog. And the magical belief that my doctor is a wizard.
🌔 ♓
Featured deck: Dark Goddess Tarot, indie edition (Ellen Lorenzi-Prince)