I `met' my friend Vix whilst browsing through and commenting on an US-based infertility chat forum several years ago. Back then I already had 4 IVF cycles under my belt, and she is a thirty-something married woman who had been trying to get pregnant for a few years, but was too scared to venture into the world of IVF.
We became fast friends, and despite our time and location difference (she lives in US, I live in Australia), we managed to email each other daily, telling each other about our lives, ttc stories, medical talks, and general chit chats. We swapped photos and talked about our husbands at lengths. This went on for more than a year.
Then one day she told me about this sum of money she and her husband had inherited. She had two choices - either to go on a big holiday or to finally give IVF a shot. Vix was worried about dabbling in IVF because she saw it as a `final frontier', and if that didn't work out she will have nothing to turn to. Finally after weeks of discussions back and forth, I talked her into it and she brought home her first injections.
4 eggs collected turned into 3 embryos, and on Day 3, she only had 2 to transfer. Two weeks later she sent out an email to friends and family announcing her pregnancy. I was over the moon for her - especially because we had been friends for so long, and I know how much she had wanted to be a mom. She made the best halloween customes for herself and I have great hopes for her unborn as the best dressed kid(s).
Twins were born eight months later, a boy and a girl. The prettiest pair of twins ever. She emailed me to let me know how much she valued our friendship, and how much she wished for something good to happen to me eventually. I told her it is already great that at least IVF worked for one of us - I told her I refuse to lose faith in IVF.
A few months later, during a particularly dark day, I wrote to her to tell her about my latest cycle failure, I mentioned in the email about `finding it difficult to cope with life because I kept getting knock-backs'. I may sound suicidal, but I really wasn't that bad. I just want somebody to listen to me whinge because I was in so much pain, and couldn't talk to any of my real friends because none of them are reproductively challenged. Plus I thought she would understand my pain too. I felt really vulnerable, and really, really sad.
And then nothing.
I haven't heard from her ever since. Occasionally (like once every half year), I was included in her group emails of a funny joke, or a christmas greeting, but she never wrote to me personally again. I felt so horrible, especially when I had opened myself up entirely to her.
Two weeks ago I wrote to her to tell her about my pregnancy. And you guessed it - again no reply.
It's a very sad, but raw truth in the world of cyber-friendship.