The Wave

Each Summer as a kid we would spend time at six flags in Denver. We would get there early before the sun reached it's highest point. We would run to the big rides first in attempt to skip the long lines and would continue in that pattern until we needed to cool off. Naturally, when that time came we would head on over to the Shipwrecked Falls, their wooden water ride. We would hop over and dip under the metal bars designed to keep unruly kids like us in line, but they were never long enough to obey the rules and we were always too excited to care.

My favorite spot was the very first car. I'd hop in, never minding that my shorts were instantly wet from the last go round. The seatbelt gets buckled and we pull out from the shaded cover and into the roasting sun. The car chugs up the hill, preparing for a sharp turn and a huge drop into the water. I liked the very first seat on the coaster because I could see everything that was approaching me. Flying down the hill in theory is the fastest part of the ride but for me it always felt like time had temporarily slowed down. Keeping my eyes open until the last second, I would watch the coaster hit the water, causing the pool to jump up and reach for us. Then Bam! Cold, dirty six flags water has soaked us head to toe.

Shipwrecked Falls (stolen from Google)

***
Imagine keeping your eyes open as a huge wave envelops you, only to spit you out, wet, ragged and confused. That is how this cycle has felt for me.

The wave feels a lot like the acceptance of IVF. I could find out I'm pregnant on Friday but I feel calm. Like the slow movement up the hill before you get dropped into the water. Calm like before the storm.

There is no baby as a result of this IUI. I know it in my gut because all of the emotions and all of the physical symptoms that plague me during the two week wait are here, in full swing, and I recognize it now. Been there and rode that ride, right?

I've started to set aside my cash tips in a special jar that reminds us what we are saving the money for. I've talked to my employer about IVF, made plans to raise money, and I've spent hours and hours crying over the loss of the way I invisioned my future to be like. We have accepted that our circle of support is very, very small. Mostly because we aren't adopting or buying a house.

Yes. People have actually suggested our money is better spent on buying a house.

I've walked around in a fog for 9 days with only 4 more to go. I'm ready for all of this to be real now. I've let go of a lot to make space for what is to come.

***

After the water ride was over we would make our way to the black pavement so we could cook from underneath and above. The sun warms our bare shoulders and our shoes squeek with every step. It never took long for us to dry off and recover from the whip lash of such a short and intense ride.

Thinking of this gives me a tad bit of hope, something I basically lost during the "you're not pregnant" call. The sun will eventually come out. Some good karma will come my way and wring me out.  IVF has a 60% success rate and our fertility clinic has some of the highest monthly success rates in the nation. This really could be the answer for us and I am finding ways to be comfortable with that.

All of this is hard. The wave is vastly approaching and just as I did when I was a kid, I'm keeping my eyes open. Whatever I have to do to get our little babies here feels worth the endeavor.