I don’t worry about relaxing anymore. I remember how stressed I was about it before IVF attempt number one. Now it’s not hysteria, there’s no panic attacks. It’s numbness.
It’s wishing for love, sexuality, my womb, and divine love to grant me my hopes and dreams. But even during the wishing comes doubts and sadness. The end-of-the-night-drunk kind of sad when you know there’s hope, but it’s hard to tell if giving up or fighting hurts less.
This round two is not a lot of high energy or stress. Round two is something else quieter and sadder than you can imagine. I have the strength of someone who has been through hell, who knows what it’s like to fail and who has less attachment to being who you are supposed to be.
There’s a wild card in that; a confidence and a quiet strength that can survive.