Leaving IVF, and Its Promise and Possibility, Behind
I felt a down spell in my persistent belief in possibility—a sense that something within me once felt unremitting, but had since been stretched to its limit.
The first ultrasound of our third IVF cycle showed four burgeoning eggs in my right ovary—a good number, for us. “How is the left looking?” I asked Dr. Hertz.
Hunter x Hunter
Amy Beth is a journalist and creative nonfiction writer based in Brooklyn. She teaches writing at Purchase College and with the Creators Collective, and edits Parks and Points, a website dedicated to public lands. Find her on Twitter @AmyBethWright and on Instagram @amyb1021. Read more of her work at amybethwrites.com.
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I am at the nether reaches of my fertility, curious as to what I can still grow. This remains a shock.
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It felt as though I had been evicted from my own body, and it had been trashed in my absence. My resentment was as precise as any recipe.
I do not believe in a soul but these past six months of illness, I am guilty of dislocating, of clinging to magic. Of wanting relief. Of being sick of being sick.