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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the hope before the storm, it was the tears fought back before the fall, it was after a three-day transfer, it was during a natural cycle, it was the whiteness of the pantiliner, it was the fear of seeing red, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going directly to parenthood, we were all going directly the other way - in short, the moments before the period was so far like every other moment before the period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
Dickens had nothing on the two week wait.
It is hard to explain the anxiety and hope inherent in a two week wait to someone who hasn't sat through twelve or twenty-seven or six hundred forty-three two-week increments of hell. Regardless of all signs pointing otherwise, it is impossible to remain immune to the hope that comes with a Hail Mary cycle nor to stay outside the despair and fear that mark those last few days before the beta.
It isn't just about those last few days of debating to test or not to test. When the wait begins, you're coming off the stress of the follicular phase--the timing of injections, the follicle scans, the blood work. Those first days are like the honeymoon of the cycle; the hard work of the wedding-stress-like period of time marking the beginning to ovulation is over and you're relaxing on a virtual beach, trying to catch your breath after that whirlwind event.
But if those first days are like the honeymoon, the middle days are like the let-down after you return home from Hawaii. Enter the doubts and the fears and...well...frankly, reality. Day-to-day life is a buzz kill after the excitement of the wedding or the relaxation of the honeymoon. This is that period of time where you begin to obsess about that single forgotten injection or the fact that the rest of your embryos didn't make it to blast after a day-three transfer.
Finally, if the middle days are daily life, the end of the cycle is like the worst break-up of all time. You're in limbo, not knowing if things will end yet hopeful that things will work out and continue. You don't know if it's better to press for information or hang back. You are weepy and angry and scared and frustrated and the world expects you to swallow that down and go to work each day and leave home life back at home.
And it is the worst break-up of all time because like those Groundhog-Day-like relationships, the cycle starts anew and you start another two-week wait on the heels of your last one.
Nobaby Lane, two days after a five-day transfer writes: "Can I test yet? Can I test yet? Can I test yet? Just kidding."
Evil Stepmonster, seven days after a five-day transfer writes: "Oh. Wait. I feel something.
I know that feeling. What is that rumbling feeling in the pit of my belly? Oh. Of course. It's Aunt Flo on her way in her effing great freight train come to take my baby dreams away."
A few weeks ago, The Egg Timer recounted yet another two week wait:
I'm in the 2ww and I just read back through my previous 2ww posts and I realize that there is nothing new I could possibly say. So, I will either recycle those posts or write about things totally unrelated to the 2ww (but perhaps still related to fertility). I just don't want to bore you or me with the same old posts. This the 6th 2ww after an IUI. I don't have the energy for the emotional roller coaster that the 2ww brings out in me. Maybe this is the time to take up knitting?
It is just so hard to be dormant after the flurry of activity that marks the beginning of a cycle.
I'd love to hear how you pass the two week wait.
Melissa is the author of the infertility and pregnancy loss blog, Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. She keeps a categorized blogroll of almost 1200 infertility blogs and
