Written by Amy Salke. Edited by Kayti Christian.
No one knows a waiting game like someone going through fertility treatments. The waiting to get started. The waiting for lab results. The waiting rooms. The waiting for a transvaginal ultrasound while sitting on a cold clinic bed, no pants on with only a paper sheet to cover you. The waiting for retrieval day. The waiting to hear how many eggs were retrieved, how many are mature. The fertilization report, the blast report, the genetic testing results. So much waiting to hopefully, one day, get to the waiting for beta-HCG results. Don’t even get me started on the waiting that happens after that.
As I write this, I’m in the thick of waiting for genetic testing results from my fifth IVF cycle, in our fifth year of trying to make our dream of a family a reality. I thought I’d be more prepared for the anxiety that comes with waiting to hear if the two blasts we made this round are viable. But even in my fifth round, I’m still as anxious as ever, maybe even more so.
As I shared that I was undergoing another egg retrieval with family and friends, and the internet, I received the sweetest notes of encouragement, gracious reminders that I’m strong and resilient, and many cheerful “Congratulations!” And I’m so grateful for all of them. But as I’ve worked through the weeks in waiting since, I realize that unless I’m sharing each step of this arduous process loudly, most no one knows that retrieval day isn’t a destination. It’s really only the beginning.
IVF can feel like living inside suspended time. You move from one milestone to the next, but the waiting never actually resolves; it just shape-shifts. A fertilization report doesn’t guarantee blasts. Blasts don’t guarantee PGT-A results. PGT-A results don’t guarantee a transfer. And we all know transfers don’t guarantee a healthy baby. Every step forward feels like momentum but still carries the risk of starting over.
Don’t get me wrong. Retrieval day is a day to be proud of! The countless injections (at least 48 this round), the hormone rollercoaster, to be honest, the bloating and discomfort alone takes real physical and mental endurance. We should be proud.
But if you’re anything like me, you’re hedging. You’re afraid to celebrate this milestone because you know in just a week or so’s time you may have nothing to show for it. That you might very well have to start all over again, from square one but this time even less hopeful. It feels a bit like being afraid of jinxing it, but worse because you know the stats for your age, you know the brutality of the IVF attrition rate at every stage (i.e. this round: 8 eggs retrieved > 4 mature > 4 fertilized > 2 blasts > TBD PGT-A).
While I love the positivity on retrieval day, I find myself craving more realistic caution that makes me feel a little less insane for still holding my breath. For not yet feeling relieved. For waiting to celebrate.
So in case you’re in it too, I see you — It is just the beginning, and there’s still a long road to come. But you did a huge thing, we did a huge thing, and we should be proud of ourselves for getting to this point.
I don’t know what the next few weeks will bring, but I know I will get through it. And so will you.
❤️🩹 A few things that helped make the last three weeks a bit more bearable
A girls trip before the meds started. Truly nothing better to make you believe you can take on the world, and the IVF shots, like time with your best friends.
Walks, and I mean lots of walks. Every day, multiple times a day. Don’t have the energy? Walk. Bloated? Walk. Sad? Walk. 10 minutes or an hour, doesn’t matter. Walk.
Outside time. Pruning the garden, picking flowers, making arrangements. I found myself bringing so much beauty into my house during these past few weeks.
Obvious self-care: Red-light therapy, face masks, early bedtimes, raspberry leaf herbal tea, feel-good shows (ahem: Ted Lasso), naps on naps on naps.
Less obvious self-care: Asking for help — like asking my husband to micromanage our nutrition because when I’m stressed, I can forget to eat. Saying, “sorry I can’t make it”, because I am actually too tired and shouldn’t go, but I am also really sorry about it. Sharing the gory details with my close-nit people so they could show up for me when I really needed it.
And treats, duh. After appointments, blood work, meds pick-up, frustrating phone calls with insurance, good news, bad news… Any way to Pavlov myself into “keeping on keeping on.”
🎧 Last week’s episode: A better way to pay for IVF with Sunfish founder & CEO
Listen to last week’s episode with Sunfish founder and CEO, Angela Rastegar. Sunfish is a fertility fintech company focused on making family building more financially accessible and a lot less overwhelming.
You can also listen on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.
If you love the pod, help us grow by hitting follow and leaving a review on Spotify and Apple. And then join us on Instagram, where we post daily memes and reels that help us get through infertility. 🩷
As a very impatient person, IVF has pretty much forced me to confront this not-favorable trait (impatience) head-on. I’m in the midst of round four, and once again, it’s wait, wait, wait some more. And hopefully something good will happen this time. Thank you for sharing, as always!
"The waiting never resolves, it just shape-shifts." I read that line twice. It's going to stay with me for a long time.
We talk about IVF like it's a series of milestones, as if reaching one means you finally get to set something down for a minute. But you never do, do you. You just pick up a different version of the same dread and carry it to the next room. Nobody warns you about that.
Thank you for writing the cautious version of this. The relentless positivity on retrieval day comes from love, I know it does, but it lands a step ahead of where you actually are, and it can leave you feeling a little crazy for still holding your breath when everyone else has already exhaled. You're not crazy. You're just paying attention.