“You will be alright.”

I believe there is a great chasm separating me from different family members and friends that haven’t gone through this thing, infertility.

I also believe that there are bridges, that, should they choose to cross over, or only come closer, they can. And if I choose to cross, and come closer to them, give them grace for well meaning but ill informed comments or try to help them see how things really are, I have the choice.

I have been blessed, in real life, these past weeks. I have a family that is very supportive, most of them. I let them know what is going on, and with the exception of my mother, who isn’t speaking to me and couldn’t give a fried egg how retrieval, or transfer went, they’re really, truly there.

But that doesn’t mean that they get it.

It’s a delicate balance, opening this subject to people who haven’t had the experience. Part of it is purely technical, almost pedagogic, like explaining several times that 4 mature eggs is different that 4 embryos, and exactly what that difference is. Or that there isn’t a hospitalization for transfer, it is done rather quickly, the worst part being the cold pinch of the speculum and that the husband and I had lunch with friends afterward.

That part is almost cathartic, impersonal, albeit slightly frustrating at times. (Like when my father called my brother telling him we had four eggs, and my brother thought that meant I was pregnant.) They are well meaning, but I am beginning to feel like a health teacher.

But like I said, I can handle that part, because it is peppered with innocent error, and care. I don’t mind gently correcting them and helping them form a correct idea about the procedure.

What is difficult is the abstract, and the preconceived.

Last night I was on the phone with my father. He asked what the next stage would be.

I explained that I am doing progesterone suppositories, and a HCG injection last Thursday, this Sunday, and next Wednesday, to keep my ovaries a chugging. I told him that supposedly because of the shot, should I do pregnancy pee tests, they will undoubtedly be positive, whether I am pregnant or not, and that I must wait until November 23rd, at which moment I will do a blood test.

He seemed to think that was the goal, the positive test, but I reminded him of last time and explained the concept of doubling betas, and how with infertility and IVF we are never really out of the game until that baby is healthy and breathing, in our arms. And even then…

I explained to him as well the high rate of pregnancy loss, crossing one of those little bridges, trying to help him understand, when my words were sharply cut off -

“You will be alright.”

Silence.

“Dad, I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll be alright. If this doesn’t work -”

“YOU will BE ALRIGHT.”

The words choked me. Will I? Will I really be alright?

I softly left my bridge, and returned to my designated side of the chasm.

He looked at me from his side of the divide with love, however, not comprehending. “You will be alright. G-d will not give you more than you can handle.”

I choked on my words. I know he meant well. I know he wanted to comfort me, to help. I know he needs to believe what he is stating with such unweilding conviction.

I just don’t agree with that.

And I’m terrified.