The doctor walked in to the acupuncture appointment today, for a change. Her sour faced side-kick followed suit, but atleast it wasn’t just her.
'When's the transfer?'
'Week of Dec 18'
Some other details later, she tells me they'll be putting the needles in my back today.
I feel my heart skip a beat on the inside. At this point my back might be one of the few places I haven't been stabbed with a needle.
You would think the phobia would've dissipated by now. It's gotten worse.
As I turn to lie face down my hands are sweaty. I am starting to shake.
The first needle pierces my skin, along the spin. I yelp. I start to hyperventilate.Breathe, eeda, breathe.
Poke. Poke. Poke. 10 along my spine. One in each wrist. One in each ankle. One by each foot.
They leave a caller in my hand I can press if I'm in pain. I'm in pain. I move half an inch and the needle in my foot pushes against the mattress, going deeper in my foot.
I'm crying. I started crying when they put the first needle in. I cry the next next ten minutes. Tears falling down to the floor. I'm laying spread eagled on my belly. I cannot move.
.........
Nothing about this is easy. No part. The tests. The medication. The shots. The blood work. The supplements. The hope. The call "you're not pregnant". 7 Iui's. 7! Most women give up after 3. I'm a hopeless optimist.
And now IVF. My first round.
As a child I used to pray that God not test me with looks (I had been bullied for being scrawny and dark) and with children. I ended up growing up to be somewhat beautiful (or atleast that's what they tell me though I remain somewhat in denial). I assumed God wouldn't test me with the children bit. At least not for long anyways.
It's been 12 long years. 12 years of longing. 12 years of feeling like a failure. My body which couldn't provide the one main duty it was built to do. Test after test after home remedies, medications, supplements. You have no fibroids. No cysts. No PCOS. No Endometriosis. Never missed a period. Never been late. No blocked tubes. No ovulation issues. Nothing. They can't find a thing.
I remember when I got my results I had cried. Everyone said no problems was a good thing. I said if I knew what it was, I could fix it. How do I fix when nothing is wrong?
I would long for children from the pits of my soul, as early as 12/13 years of age. Someone to love more than myself, more than I loved anyone else. Someone to care for, serve, nurture. I was motherly as a child, younger cousins always drawn to me. I still have plenty who reach out for marriage advice, school advice, career advice, boy advice, parent advice...
But I wanted someone my own. My flesh and blood.
When I was 14 and diagnosed with scoliosis, the first thing I asked the doctor was if it would affect my ability have children. He laughed. My nani stared at me horrified at my lack of sharam. The doctor reassured me that it was a valid question, and no, it wouldn't affect anything at all.
Why me then.
Why is it that I, who fought to get married at 19 (and got married at 23) just so I could have kids young, had to wait 12 years? Why am I the one who has gone to countless baby showers, gender reveals, kids birthday parties, am still the only one sitting alone, still having to tell people, no, I don't have kids. Yes I've been married a long time. Yes we do want children. Yes we have seen the doctor. No we didn't use birth control ( and piss God off which apparently is why you can't have kids) etc etc.
I'm tired. I'm tired of the longing. Of the sense of failure that consumes my being. Of the lack of understanding from anyone around me. Of feeling so so alone. Of not being invited to birthdays or play dates because my worth in society is measured my ability to reproduce. Of.
God, the dawai. The back and forth with insurance. Of paperwork. Of ultrasounds. Of having my privacy invaded repeatedly ( no it doesn't get easier). Of needles. In my arm. In it belly. In my feet. My hairline. My calves. My wrists. Of the side effects. Nausea. Upset stomach. Dizziness. Anger. Water weight gain. Acne. Of the black and blues when S accidentally struck a nerve in my belly injecting me and having blood everywhere. Of the sheer trauma of having to go through it again. Shots EVERY SINGLE DAY for THREE months. Three! I want to scream.
This isn't fair. But then, what is? Is it fair my sister has epilepsy? Is it fair my brother has ADHD? Is it fair Nani died, getting burnt from a fire in her own home? Is any of this fair?
We don't get to be judge jury victim. I try to remind myself of having faith in Allah swt. Of the rewards of patience. Of not complaining. But it's so so hard.
So I talk about it. As much as I can. As much I'm misunderstood. As much as I'm called Besharam and don't have Haya. Why don't we talk about it? Why isn't it acceptable? We talk about the grief that comes with the loss of life, the absence of someone you love, but isn't infertility just that? The absence of someone I have loved before I even knew what it was I was feeling. Of a longing that comes from so deep within my soul, so guttural, so raw, so human, it has no cure.
So I grieve. The reality I wanted to be mine but isn't. The fact that I'll be 36 when I have my first, when I should've been long done.
I have waited a lifetime for my life to start.
.................
My siblings are suffering and I don't know how to help them. I feel so guilty at my privilege. I'm living the life they deserve. They had a home in Canada. Friends. Family. A future. Until abbu changed his mind and forcefully (atleast for Dj) took them back. They're trapped in a place they don't recognize. With people they don't understand. Locked up in their bedrooms all day. Depression consuming their being. Refusing to leave the room. Refusing to study, work, meet with anyone, thrive. Ammi calls me crying every day. Every single day for the last, teo/three years? I can't remember the last time I heard her happy.
And I don't know what to do. Sometimes I just want to drop everything and go home. Talk to them. Convince them. Look at yourself through my eyes. You don't deserve this. Fight for your life. You only have one.
But they won't listen. I've tried texting. Calling. No reply. They refuse. Even when I was in Pakistan I tried all 30 days to try to coax him out of his room so I could talk to him, and he wouldnt.
So I scream into the void. In my dreams I'm chasing after the. Trying to get to them. Protect them. Pull them out. I stay awake half the night chest beating. When I wake my tshirt is soaked in sweat, my heart is pounding, and I am afraid.
............
When I asked the doctor what I should do to prepare for the egg retrieval and now the embryo transfer, he said only one thing. Don't worry about the supplements. Don't worry about what you eat. Don't worry about the exercise. Just do not get stressed out.
.
.
.
L.O.L
...........
Sigh. To another sleepless.heart.thudding.night.
e
