It's So Hard To Say Goodbye

I know I have previously touched on the topic of my “graduation” from the fertility center, but my emotions surrounding that “graduation” have been overtaking me the last couple of days, so I think it is worth delving into further.

Friday, in addition to having my 8 week ultrasound, I had my last appointment at my fertility center.  I have never been particularly good at saying “goodbye.”  I’m the person who quietly slips out the back at graduations and who says I will keep in touch, but never does.  I usually am not socially awkward.  But I hate “endings,” and so I avoid the emotional upheaval they cause for me by just fading away in silence.

The problem is, when you have to be face-to-face with people who know it is your last appointment with them, there is no way to avoid the inevitable farewells.  On Friday, most of the nurses at the fertility center either came into my room or stopped me on my way through the halls to hug me, say “Good luck,” and fawn over my ultrasound pictures.  I pursed my lips, choked back tears, and tried to squeak out multiple versions of “thank you” over the lump in my throat for the half hour that we were in the center.  Even The Prince got uncomfortable, although he wasn’t able to identify what emotions were bringing on his anxiety.  Everything had gone so well during the ultrasound…but I couldn’t really experience that happiness because I was too busy dissociating from the pain of leaving the care of people that I trust and adore.

The fact is, since switching to this particular fertility center over two years ago, we haven’t gone more than a couple of months without spending some amount of time with these people.  And, for most of the two years, I was in the center on a bi-weekly basis.  I saw the nurses and RE more than my immediate family.  Even when The Prince and I were on “breaks” between IVF cycles, there was frequent testing or, at the very least, I was going to massage, acupuncture and/or yoga in the healing arts center that is in the same building as the fertility center. 

I’m not just saying “goodbye” to the amazing healthcare I’ve received for two years, I’m saying “goodbye” to an extended family that I’ve come to love.  Everyone says to look at this as a “graduation,” but I hate graduations.  I know it is good to move on…it means that we’ve achieved success and are that much closer to fulfilling our dream of being parents.  But I am sad. 

I promised to bring in my baby after it is born (at a time when there are no patients at the center), but I know that will be a struggle for me.  I always thought that women disappeared from the fertility center and cut off all lines of communication with the nurses and RE because they wanted to leave the painful memories of infertility behind them, but now I think that might not be the case.  Perhaps it is the opposite.  Perhaps it is just too painful to stay in touch with those people who represented shelter during the storm of infertility because that shelter is now gone.  The world is still and ocean of fear and uncertainty, even though I am pregnant.  But I lost my life raft…or, more accurately, I had to say “goodbye” to it.