This will probably come across as a weird post to write on Christmas Eve, but I guess it's as good a time as any to have an IF revelation. (But I'll keep it short....)
A good friend here in my new city home gave birth to a beautiful baby girl 1 week ago. Her and her husband also had some fertility treatment to achieve and maintain this pregnancy after TTC and miscarriage. I saw them in the week and am over the moon for them and their new family. They have started a photography project to follow baby girl's early days and post a photo of her online each day.
I was just looking at the latest photos and, guess what, I felt jealous... real, stone-cold jealousy that they get to hold and love this gorgeous little girl. The same jealousy that I've felt so many times over the last few years. And I felt this whilst sitting here, 36 weeks pregnant, with a bonny baby boy kicking and wriggling away inside of me.
Don't get me wrong.. I realised what was going on and I.....well....decided to write this post and am now feeling completely back to normal. But I guess IF never does really go away, does it?
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Friday, 23 December 2011
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
IF Hangover
Just when I thought I was in a place of complete peace and calm about this pregnancy and even the route we took to get here, IF jumps up to bite me on the ass. Don't get me wrong, I am still enjoying this pregnancy and very much looking forward to the arrival of our baby baby in (possibly) a few weeks :)
But, as I've suggested in previous posts, I've not quite left behind the uncertainty, fear and grief that occupied so much of the years it took us to get here. And how do I know this? Because I cried on our Doula today as I told her about our infertility struggles. I hadn't intended to tell her at all... We had a routine pre-natal appointment and were reviewing some of my answers to the questionnaire all her clients fill in to tell her about themselves, their pregnancies and their hopes & wishes for their baby's birth. I had mentioned that one of my concerns about the birth (and reasons for hiring her) was potentially feeling out of control which leads me rapidly into panic... this was a big element of our infertility that I tried to combat with research, spreadsheets of follicle sizes and blood test results and, of course, blogging.
All she had to do was mention this answer, which reminded me of my reasons for writing it and I dissolved into puddles of tears. (I should add that her trainee Doula was also there in our meeting!) I explained our journey briefly between sobs and she was very understanding and supportive.
But this post is not about her and the details of my sob-fest... it is, yet again, my way of trying to get some of my feelings out of my head and into a bigger, more forgiving place. Why is it that I can't just be grateful and happy to be in this amazing place? Why can't I really leave all those feelings of fear and submission behind? And is the fear from those so-recent days going to interfere with and take over the calm, relaxed and joyful birth that I'm hoping for?
For now, it is enough to write this post to help me stop sniffing and whimpering and to acknowledge that I still need to work through some of 'my issues' if I want to be able to look back and also look forward to the unbelievable image of me holding our baby without bursting into tears (and there I go again with the crying!...).
But, as I've suggested in previous posts, I've not quite left behind the uncertainty, fear and grief that occupied so much of the years it took us to get here. And how do I know this? Because I cried on our Doula today as I told her about our infertility struggles. I hadn't intended to tell her at all... We had a routine pre-natal appointment and were reviewing some of my answers to the questionnaire all her clients fill in to tell her about themselves, their pregnancies and their hopes & wishes for their baby's birth. I had mentioned that one of my concerns about the birth (and reasons for hiring her) was potentially feeling out of control which leads me rapidly into panic... this was a big element of our infertility that I tried to combat with research, spreadsheets of follicle sizes and blood test results and, of course, blogging.
All she had to do was mention this answer, which reminded me of my reasons for writing it and I dissolved into puddles of tears. (I should add that her trainee Doula was also there in our meeting!) I explained our journey briefly between sobs and she was very understanding and supportive.
But this post is not about her and the details of my sob-fest... it is, yet again, my way of trying to get some of my feelings out of my head and into a bigger, more forgiving place. Why is it that I can't just be grateful and happy to be in this amazing place? Why can't I really leave all those feelings of fear and submission behind? And is the fear from those so-recent days going to interfere with and take over the calm, relaxed and joyful birth that I'm hoping for?
For now, it is enough to write this post to help me stop sniffing and whimpering and to acknowledge that I still need to work through some of 'my issues' if I want to be able to look back and also look forward to the unbelievable image of me holding our baby without bursting into tears (and there I go again with the crying!...).
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
30 weeks... aka 'How did I get here?'... aka 'Did all that really happen?'
I hit 30 weeks last weekend and it feels like such a milestone. Now we'll be counting in 3- something weeks, it makes the arrival of our baby boy seem so much more imminent. And how are we doing? Very well, I think. As I write, baby boy is stretching, which seems to involve feet pushing under my ribs on my right side and fingers poking very low down on my left side which always makes me jump! He seems to be at the stage where he is big enough for me to feel every movement in a major way, but not so big that his space to wriggle around is limited. And I'm doing well - have been taking iron supplements for the anaemia which are hopefully working, but I'll find out at our monthly check-up tomorrow :)
Lately I've been feeling so well physically and so happy and settled emotionally that all we went through to get here almost seems like a dream. Did I really go through all those tests and surgery? Did I really give myself all those injections? Did I really have all those blood tests? Did I really spend all those hours (and hours and hours) sat in that Chinese fertility clinic? Did I really go to that clinic every morning for 10 weeks after the BFP for the progesterone shots they wouldn't let me do myself? It all seems so far away and so long ago...
That's not to say that I've created some alternative reality for myself where this baby was conceived naturally. I know that we are still infertile. I know that, should we want another child, I'll more than likely be returning to China for our precious frozen embies. I know that this baby boy is a precious miracle and this pregnancy was worth every injection, blood test and minute in that clinic.
But I do feel that our infertility is no longer defining this pregnancy. The angst and fear of the 1st trimester has been replaced with a feeling of calm and confidence that my body can do this. We've recently started our pre-natal Hypno.birthing classes (they're another post in themselves) which (amongst other things) involve listening to positive affirmations about our pregnancy and future labour & delivery. I no longer flinch when I hear the affirmation talking about how my body was designed to conceive, carry and deliver this baby naturally. Maybe we needed some help getting here, but I feel I can now trust in my body to do the rest.
That's not to say that there won't be any complications or unexpected issues in the next 10 or so weeks. That's not to say that I won't end up having pain meds or other interventions, rather than the calm, natural delivery we're hoping for. But I no longer feel like they're more likely because of how we got here.
On re-reading this post, I wonder whether I sound like some born-again fertile... I don't want to minimise the struggles that we went through or that others are going through right now - whether in their IF journeys or in their post-IF pregnancies. But I do want to enjoy every moment of the remainder of this pregnancy and I finally feel like I'm able to :)
That's not to say that I've created some alternative reality for myself where this baby was conceived naturally. I know that we are still infertile. I know that, should we want another child, I'll more than likely be returning to China for our precious frozen embies. I know that this baby boy is a precious miracle and this pregnancy was worth every injection, blood test and minute in that clinic.
But I do feel that our infertility is no longer defining this pregnancy. The angst and fear of the 1st trimester has been replaced with a feeling of calm and confidence that my body can do this. We've recently started our pre-natal Hypno.birthing classes (they're another post in themselves) which (amongst other things) involve listening to positive affirmations about our pregnancy and future labour & delivery. I no longer flinch when I hear the affirmation talking about how my body was designed to conceive, carry and deliver this baby naturally. Maybe we needed some help getting here, but I feel I can now trust in my body to do the rest.
That's not to say that there won't be any complications or unexpected issues in the next 10 or so weeks. That's not to say that I won't end up having pain meds or other interventions, rather than the calm, natural delivery we're hoping for. But I no longer feel like they're more likely because of how we got here.
On re-reading this post, I wonder whether I sound like some born-again fertile... I don't want to minimise the struggles that we went through or that others are going through right now - whether in their IF journeys or in their post-IF pregnancies. But I do want to enjoy every moment of the remainder of this pregnancy and I finally feel like I'm able to :)
Monday, 20 June 2011
Welcome to ICWL!
My story is pretty much explained in the timeline on the right, but I guess this might be a good time for a disclaimer. This blog started as a record of our journey through fertility treatment in China, where we've been living for nearly 4 years.
In the time since I started blogging, our story has moved on... from fertility treatment to pregnancy and soon, from China to South Korea. But, while the title of this blog might seem a little inaccurate, it's not. We're still infertile and still struggling with the hangover of the last 3 years of TTC, whilst trying to celebrate and enjoy this much-desired pregnancy.
Thank you for stopping by - if you leave a comment, I'll come and visit your blog and say Hi!
In the time since I started blogging, our story has moved on... from fertility treatment to pregnancy and soon, from China to South Korea. But, while the title of this blog might seem a little inaccurate, it's not. We're still infertile and still struggling with the hangover of the last 3 years of TTC, whilst trying to celebrate and enjoy this much-desired pregnancy.
Thank you for stopping by - if you leave a comment, I'll come and visit your blog and say Hi!
Saturday, 30 April 2011
The journey moves on.. literally!
The eagle-eyed amongst you might have noticed that the title of my blog has changed a little... That's because, soon, I will no longer be infertile in China... Don't get too excited, I'll still be infertile :) But my Bloke and I are leaving the Middle Kingdom and moving to South Korea!
Surprised?! So were we!
I can't pretend that this only happened today.. my Bloke is not a diplomat / spy / hitman... he doesn't get a coded message telling him to board a flight to Moscow within the hour. A little while ago he was asked to apply for a senior position within the same company - a jump that he'd thought was too big for him to make. Of course he applied and a couple of weeks ago, he was offered the job. In Seoul. Did I mention that it's in Seoul? That's in Korea. I've never been to Korea. And every time my Bloke has returned from a business trip there, he has complained about how much he doesn't like Seoul. But the job is an amazing opportunity and the ridiculous grin on his face when he told me about it was enough for me to want it for him, as much as he wanted it.
So we're moving to Korea (did I mention that?). My Bloke just got his contract through which is why I now feel 'safe' posting this.
We shared a moment of laugh-out-loud hysteria recently when we realised what we were doing... not the move itself, but combining a move to a new city and country, a new, probably very stressful job for him with a potentially life-changing IVF cycle. In a list of stressful life events, where do you think this lot would rate?!
More on the move to come... but I'd like to take this chance to thank Kat at I'm Very Far Away for all her help, info and support so far - I gave her an advance heads-up seen as we'll be moving into her hood ;)
Right now I'm probably in stirrups or the recovery room after the egg collection. Hopefully there are a few good eggs (at least) getting down and dirty with a few (hundred thousand) fast little swimmers.... Now's not the time to be bashful, guys and girls... you know you want to...
PS: I chose this pic because how many couples manage to get through a house move with blissful smiles on their faces like these two?!
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Welcome to ICWL!
Welcome if you're stopping by from IComLeavWe April! Thanks for coming :)If you're new to my blog, here's a quick-ish summary of our story...
My bloke and I are from the UK but have been living in Asia for about 10 years, the last 4 in China. After TTC for over a year, we started fertility testing and found out that my bloke's motility is fairly bad. There was also some confusion over whether my tubes were clear and if my uterus was bicornuate (shaped like 2 horns/cones). So I had an MRI (still some confusion... have I also got fibroids?!) and then a lap/hyst which showed nothing major to worry about.. a slightly heart-shaped uterus, some inflammation and mild endometriosis, but that's all. :)
We did 3 IUIs, 1 unstimulated, 2 on Gonal-F... all BFN. Then I took a couple of months off to rest, wait for spring (our clinic gets the best IVF results in Spring!), improve my diet and have acupuncture.
Today is now day 4 of stimming (225 of Gonal-F) on our first IVF long protocol cycle after downregging with Decapeptyl (0.1mg for 2 weeks, now on 0.05mg per day). So far, so good :)
But the story above is just the facts and figures. It doesn't convey what it's been like to go through a diagnosis of infertility, infertility testing and treatment in a foreign land where, in more ways than one, I don't speak the language. There have been frustrations, disappointments, moments of desperation and despair.. but also many moments of heartfelt gratitude for support from friends, both in real life and online. There have also been comical moments where, as my Mum always says, 'if you didn't laugh, you'd cry!'.
And how am I feeling now? Hopeful, certainly... optimistic might be pushing it (being a natural pessimist, as I am) but genuinely feeling like we're doing everything we can to give this cycle the best possible chance.
Friday, 8 April 2011
What does it mean?!
So what does this mean? Is the Decapeptyl actually making me feel better?! Not a side-effect I'm familiar with... Am I just ridiculously over-excited to have started this IVF cycle after waiting what seems like such a long time (though I know, in the big scheme of things, we've got here pretty quickly). Have I kidded myself that our odds are better than they really are?!
I don't know and I don't really care. Yesterday after my acupuncture session with Dr F, we were discussing my current warm, fuzziness and he said 'This cycle is going to be awesome' (did I mention he's from California?!) 'and then you can name the little guy after me!'
And, apart from thinking that Dr F is kind of a weird name for a baby, I thought about it... a baby, with a name and a pushchair and me pushing it and it felt great. I didn't get emotional, my eyes didn't well up (my usual response to such an image) and I thought 'Why not?!... Why not me? Why not this time?'
Of course, I still know the odds and I still know there's a better chance of it not working this time than it working. But I'm allowing myself to think positive for the first time, possibly since we began this IF journey, and it feels good :)
* Please do not hold this post against me when the drugs kick in and I'm sobbing on your virtual shoulders in the coming weeks ;)
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
On your marks...
I think that posting about our 1st IVF cycle makes it more real... instead of it being this 'secret' process that we are going through, that I can pretend is not very important or significant, posting about it brings the reality of this cycle to the fore. The more people whom I talk to/blog to about it, the less I can pretend that this coming couple of months are going to be anything other than life-changing - whether successful or not. Does that make sense?! I guess what I'm saying is that I'm trying not to get my hopes too high and, for some reason, it felt like blogging about it would encourage my hopes...
But anyway, I think I'm pretty much over that for the time-being... I've really valued the support from my readers and online IF friends and I know I will need it in the coming weeks. So I'm back!
Proper update coming soon...
Thursday, 17 March 2011
Onwards and upwards
Thanks everyone for your lovely messages after my horrible day. It's so hard to anticipate emotional responses - they seem to be completely unpredictable from day to day. I still can't really think too much about my friend's pregnancy but I am feeling much better. Partly because...
We are now officially into our 1st IVF cycle!
Today is CD2 and I went to the clinic as instructed. I needed to:
We are now officially into our 1st IVF cycle!
Today is CD2 and I went to the clinic as instructed. I needed to:
- get our chromosome test results
- have my baseline ultrasound
- find out if we'll have long or short protocol
- have blood taken for my hormone panel
- 'write the file'
9.15am
It was a busy day at the clinic. I try to register as a VIP patient - I've never done it before, but apparently this means I just need to pay RMB68 instead of RMB20 and I get to go to a special room and jump the queue. I would also get to see Dr J who is one of the old-hands and really knows her stuff. Anyway, it didn't work - guy at the registration counter didn't understand 'VIP' so I was back in the normal, pleb queue. Nowhere to sit so milled about for a while until a seat came free. Used the time to people-watch... 2 other foreign couples in the clinic today - quite unusual. One lady I've seen before, but she never acknowledges me or smiles, so I've given up hope of making another fertility friend there.
Watched the 'craziness' that is the Chinese lack of privacy.. particular examples:
- Lady having her dildocam* scan behind the curtain (remember, door to consultation room always open). Cleaner walks into room and behind curtain to brush some tissue from between the Dr's feet as she probes. Clearly didn't occur to her to wait until the patient had put her knickers back on.
- 4 ladies peering through consultation room window to get best view of another patient being given her update (imagine old ladies resting their elbows over a picket fence to stand and gossip with their neighbours... similar scene). Clearly not good news as she burst into tears. Observers looked sad on her behalf, but didn't move to give her any privacy.
- Patients are called into the room to get ready for scans whilst previous patient is still in the stirrups. This is a peculiar dance which involves walking past the curtain opening where you could clearly get a 'between the legs' view if you turn your head 20 degrees to the right. So you keep your head straight ahead, take off your shoes and wait for the 1st patient to come over to put their shoes on. Then it's your turn to go behind the curtain and whip your pants off. I choose the one-leg option - only remove trousers and pants from right leg and tuck them up around left leg for faster redressing.
11.15am
Called into the consultation room to see Dr N - I like her even though she was a bit rough on my last IUI. Explain why I'm there. Get sent to nurse desk to collect chromosome test results. Dr N looks at them for 2 seconds and puts them in my file - guess that means they're OK. Job 1... done! Have dildocam scan - Dr N doesn't say anything - Job 2... done!
Dr N wants us to do long protocol! She doesn't say why and I'm strangely too excited to ask. Apparently she doesn't want to wait for the hormone panel before they decide, which is what I was told. Oh well - Job 3... done!
Get sent to 'write the file' and have blood taken. Blood and injection desk is closed until 12.30. I go home to collect our passports and marriage certificate needed for writing the file (which I'd forgotten). Unlike the pages and pages of legal documents that I hear you ladies talking about, this basically involves me signing 1 piece of paper written all in Chinese. My bloke will have to come on Saturday to sign. I imagined more of a discussion of legal rights, risks and dangers etc, but no! They didn't even want to see my passport and marriage certificate. Job 5... done!
12.40pm
Blood desk opens. I'm 2nd in queue so in and out quickly.
Job 4... done!
12.55pm
Back home :)
Feeling pretty good. Basically I just need to go back now on CD20 to check that I've ovulated before I get my downregging meds. They didn't give me the pill which I thought they might and apparently we're still allowed to have sex - that's a plus considering we'll be in Thailand next week (though bloke is working).
So that's it. We're doing IVF. So far, so good!
* I didn't come up with this name and now can't remember on whose blog I read it. But loved it so please consider my theft an homage!
Monday, 14 March 2011
Spoke too soon..
Well, I guess after yesterday's post, that I'm not doing quite as well as I thought. Woke up this morning feeling down.. it's CD 27 and the usual pre-period spotting started on Sunday, so it's pretty certain that my last hope of a BFP without IVF is out the window. I know this shouldn't matter... I know that getting the BFP is what matters, not how, but I guess I was still holding out some hope of being able to get there without any more treatment.
So I read for a bit, got up and checked my email. And there it was.. an email from my oldest school friend telling me that she's 15 weeks pregnant. She knows some of what we've been going through and had been trying for a little while herself. And I appreciate that she emailed me first, rather than in a group announcement to all our friends or the evil Facebook post.
But I've fallen apart. I can't stop crying. Real ugly, sobbing crying. My face is blotchy and red and my nose won't stop running. I'm pathetic. I'm trying to calm myself down... writing this is helping. But, at my lowest points, all that goes through my mind is 'It will never happen for us' and then that sets me off again. And I know it's stupid.. I know there's no logic to how I feel.. I know that we are a long way from that - we have so many options and chances ahead of us..
And I know that nothing has actually changed today.. my friend was pregnant yesterday, my spotting had already started yesterday, my plan to go to the clinic this week and schedule our IVF for this month (or next at the latest depending on our protocol) was already in place. So maybe I can blame this on PMS? Or maybe it's my final stage of grief before I finally accept that we need IVF? Whatever it is, I hope it passes soon.
In the meantime, I need to email my friend and congratulate her. But I can't bring myself to write the words 'I'm so happy for you' because, right now, I'm not happy. I'm not happy at all. I'm fucking miserable and I don't feel like lying. So I guess the email will have to wait.
So I read for a bit, got up and checked my email. And there it was.. an email from my oldest school friend telling me that she's 15 weeks pregnant. She knows some of what we've been going through and had been trying for a little while herself. And I appreciate that she emailed me first, rather than in a group announcement to all our friends or the evil Facebook post.
But I've fallen apart. I can't stop crying. Real ugly, sobbing crying. My face is blotchy and red and my nose won't stop running. I'm pathetic. I'm trying to calm myself down... writing this is helping. But, at my lowest points, all that goes through my mind is 'It will never happen for us' and then that sets me off again. And I know it's stupid.. I know there's no logic to how I feel.. I know that we are a long way from that - we have so many options and chances ahead of us..
And I know that nothing has actually changed today.. my friend was pregnant yesterday, my spotting had already started yesterday, my plan to go to the clinic this week and schedule our IVF for this month (or next at the latest depending on our protocol) was already in place. So maybe I can blame this on PMS? Or maybe it's my final stage of grief before I finally accept that we need IVF? Whatever it is, I hope it passes soon.
In the meantime, I need to email my friend and congratulate her. But I can't bring myself to write the words 'I'm so happy for you' because, right now, I'm not happy. I'm not happy at all. I'm fucking miserable and I don't feel like lying. So I guess the email will have to wait.
Thursday, 3 March 2011
I'll get by with a little help from my (infertile) friends.
As previously mentioned, I've been lucky enough to find friends here in China that are also going through fertility treatment. In fact, the word 'lucky' doesn't really go anywhere close to expressing how thankful I am to have found these women.
When my bloke and I found out that he had male factor problems and my status was still up in the air, I was not in a good place emotionally (did that really need saying?!). I had no idea what to do. After one disastrous clinic visit, I was close to breaking point. There is no real English-language information about fertility clinics here and my Western Dr was not very helpful. I couldn't call up the local clinics and get information because none of the nurses speak English. I found a thread on an expat forum discussing where to go for fertility treatment, but the last post was months old. I posted a message anyway.
Within a couple of weeks, I'd heard from 2 expat women considering or having treatment who were happy to meet me and share their stories, knowledge and experience. One of them literally talked me through the entire experience of registering at my local clinic... actually step by step - 'At the main entrance turn left and walk to the desk. Then turn right and take the 2nd elevator on the left...' Without this information and help, I'm not sure how I would've moved forward.
But that's not really what this post was going to be about. Through these initial 2 contacts and the expat website, I've met a few other women going through this experience. Some have left China, some have drifted away, but the rest are now good friends. Two are now 5 months pregnant - one through IVF, one through a miraculous natural conception. This week, I had lunch with some of these friends and felt such relief at being able to talk openly and frankly about our infertility. How nice it is not to have to worry about embarrassing a fertile friend by 'oversharing' or scaring a ttc friend by talking about the pain, expense and emotional rollercoaster that is fertility treatment.
Yes, it should have been weird to meet a complete stranger and be talking about our husbands' poor motility or our weirdly-shaped uteri (?!) within 5 minutes, but it wasn't. And strangely, I've never cried on these friends, though I've sobbed on just about all the other people I've told and I know they would understand if I did. There's no logic to it and it hasn't been a conscious decision but for some reason, the tears don't come and that makes a pleasant change for me!
Of course, these 'real-life' friends are not my only support. There are the friends I have met online and who I feel just as grateful to have found. There is something so freeing about sharing feelings and experiences with those who you may never meet, but you know can empathise just as much as if you saw them every day.
So thank you to all my friends! Thank you for understanding when I'm an green-eyed, bump-envying bitch. Thank you for empathising when I'm complaining about my age. Thank you for being there in the dark moments when the path ahead is so scary and unclear. Thank you xx
When my bloke and I found out that he had male factor problems and my status was still up in the air, I was not in a good place emotionally (did that really need saying?!). I had no idea what to do. After one disastrous clinic visit, I was close to breaking point. There is no real English-language information about fertility clinics here and my Western Dr was not very helpful. I couldn't call up the local clinics and get information because none of the nurses speak English. I found a thread on an expat forum discussing where to go for fertility treatment, but the last post was months old. I posted a message anyway.
Within a couple of weeks, I'd heard from 2 expat women considering or having treatment who were happy to meet me and share their stories, knowledge and experience. One of them literally talked me through the entire experience of registering at my local clinic... actually step by step - 'At the main entrance turn left and walk to the desk. Then turn right and take the 2nd elevator on the left...' Without this information and help, I'm not sure how I would've moved forward.
But that's not really what this post was going to be about. Through these initial 2 contacts and the expat website, I've met a few other women going through this experience. Some have left China, some have drifted away, but the rest are now good friends. Two are now 5 months pregnant - one through IVF, one through a miraculous natural conception. This week, I had lunch with some of these friends and felt such relief at being able to talk openly and frankly about our infertility. How nice it is not to have to worry about embarrassing a fertile friend by 'oversharing' or scaring a ttc friend by talking about the pain, expense and emotional rollercoaster that is fertility treatment.
Yes, it should have been weird to meet a complete stranger and be talking about our husbands' poor motility or our weirdly-shaped uteri (?!) within 5 minutes, but it wasn't. And strangely, I've never cried on these friends, though I've sobbed on just about all the other people I've told and I know they would understand if I did. There's no logic to it and it hasn't been a conscious decision but for some reason, the tears don't come and that makes a pleasant change for me!
Of course, these 'real-life' friends are not my only support. There are the friends I have met online and who I feel just as grateful to have found. There is something so freeing about sharing feelings and experiences with those who you may never meet, but you know can empathise just as much as if you saw them every day.
So thank you to all my friends! Thank you for understanding when I'm an green-eyed, bump-envying bitch. Thank you for empathising when I'm complaining about my age. Thank you for being there in the dark moments when the path ahead is so scary and unclear. Thank you xx
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.
So I popped into the clinic this week and, after getting over the shock & confusion of the Dr's poor choice of words, the rest of the 'appointment' was fairly productive.
Good news: I won't need to have the mock transfer/uterus measuring test because of already having 3 IUIs. It seems that they got the data needed during those procedures. I literally raised my arms and cheered in an 'over the line' celebratory gesture when Dr told me this! I know the test is just one part of the whole IVF process and not that big a deal, but it was just a relief to know it's one less thing to have shoved where the sun don't shine (oh, I'm such a lady...)
Good news: Dr seemed quite understanding and flexible about me wanting to schedule IVF around my holiday at the end of the month. I can pretty much call the shots on when I want to start, which I know is not the case everywhere.
Good news: Dr said it was a good idea for me to have a holiday and 'rest my organs'. I've been resting my ovaries for a couple of months, now it seems my other organs want a break!
Bad news: It's official.. I'm not young :(
Just before this appointment, I had lunch with 2 fertility challenged friends (look out for future post about this) who've both had IVF here. I was picking their brains and asking about their protocols. Although neither of them were that familiar with the different options (Really?! Isn't everyone as anal as me about reading all available info before drilling the clinic with questions?!), it became clear that they'd both had short protocols. We got to talking about long vs. short and how the clinic picks one or the other. I was pretty sure it was related to your FSH level and the number of antral follicles, but my friend said those results were fine for her and it was more to do with her age. Now my friends are 33 (my age) and 35. Young, right? Apparently not. I asked my Dr about my protocol and he seemed to automatically assume that I'd be on a short protocol, even though my FSH is 'good' and apparently my antral follicle numbers are OK too (would welcome more info on this, if anyone has any). I asked why and he said my age.
Me: So I'm considered old?
Dr: Well, you're not young.
I know some of you will be shaking your heads at my stupidity/naivety here.. 'How can she think she's young at 33?!' But it really came as a bit of a shock.. not really that 33 (nearly 34) is not young as far as IVF and childbearing goes, but more a shock that I am actually nearly 34! I couldn't sleep the other night and I suddenly had this moment of panic... I'm nearly 34! What happened to my 30's?!
I was happy to reach 30... I'd just got married, I was enjoying life, I was looking forward to starting a family and I felt like a grown-up. So where did those 4 years go? Although I have achieved quite a bit professionally in that time (and I am proud of and happy about that), we have achieved so little in terms of moving forward in our family goals.
So, this confirmation from the Dr that I am fast approaching that scary 'Advanced Maternal Age' was a bit of a kick in the teeth. Anyway, I know that it's not the end of the world and I still feel very young at heart - hence the title of this post.
And what does this mean for our IVF? Well, the Dr conceded that, depending on my hormone profile on CD2, it might not be a clear decision whether to have long or short protocol. It might be more of a choice. So, although I like the idea of a short protocol because, well, it's shorter and you get a result (or not) faster, I've got it into my head that short protocols are the 'poor man's choice' (otherwise known as the old woman's choice) and might not be as likely to work. The Dr sidestepped my question about the relative success rates of the protocols several times, so I'd welcome any information you can offer on this. Is long protocol the 'ideal' and short is used when that isn't possible/feasible? Is one more likely to work than the other?
And, just to finish, a quote I found which seemed to sum things up so well:
Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart.
Good news: I won't need to have the mock transfer/uterus measuring test because of already having 3 IUIs. It seems that they got the data needed during those procedures. I literally raised my arms and cheered in an 'over the line' celebratory gesture when Dr told me this! I know the test is just one part of the whole IVF process and not that big a deal, but it was just a relief to know it's one less thing to have shoved where the sun don't shine (oh, I'm such a lady...)
Good news: Dr seemed quite understanding and flexible about me wanting to schedule IVF around my holiday at the end of the month. I can pretty much call the shots on when I want to start, which I know is not the case everywhere.
Good news: Dr said it was a good idea for me to have a holiday and 'rest my organs'. I've been resting my ovaries for a couple of months, now it seems my other organs want a break!
Bad news: It's official.. I'm not young :(
Just before this appointment, I had lunch with 2 fertility challenged friends (look out for future post about this) who've both had IVF here. I was picking their brains and asking about their protocols. Although neither of them were that familiar with the different options (Really?! Isn't everyone as anal as me about reading all available info before drilling the clinic with questions?!), it became clear that they'd both had short protocols. We got to talking about long vs. short and how the clinic picks one or the other. I was pretty sure it was related to your FSH level and the number of antral follicles, but my friend said those results were fine for her and it was more to do with her age. Now my friends are 33 (my age) and 35. Young, right? Apparently not. I asked my Dr about my protocol and he seemed to automatically assume that I'd be on a short protocol, even though my FSH is 'good' and apparently my antral follicle numbers are OK too (would welcome more info on this, if anyone has any). I asked why and he said my age.
Me: So I'm considered old?
Dr: Well, you're not young.
I know some of you will be shaking your heads at my stupidity/naivety here.. 'How can she think she's young at 33?!' But it really came as a bit of a shock.. not really that 33 (nearly 34) is not young as far as IVF and childbearing goes, but more a shock that I am actually nearly 34! I couldn't sleep the other night and I suddenly had this moment of panic... I'm nearly 34! What happened to my 30's?!
I was happy to reach 30... I'd just got married, I was enjoying life, I was looking forward to starting a family and I felt like a grown-up. So where did those 4 years go? Although I have achieved quite a bit professionally in that time (and I am proud of and happy about that), we have achieved so little in terms of moving forward in our family goals.
So, this confirmation from the Dr that I am fast approaching that scary 'Advanced Maternal Age' was a bit of a kick in the teeth. Anyway, I know that it's not the end of the world and I still feel very young at heart - hence the title of this post.
And what does this mean for our IVF? Well, the Dr conceded that, depending on my hormone profile on CD2, it might not be a clear decision whether to have long or short protocol. It might be more of a choice. So, although I like the idea of a short protocol because, well, it's shorter and you get a result (or not) faster, I've got it into my head that short protocols are the 'poor man's choice' (otherwise known as the old woman's choice) and might not be as likely to work. The Dr sidestepped my question about the relative success rates of the protocols several times, so I'd welcome any information you can offer on this. Is long protocol the 'ideal' and short is used when that isn't possible/feasible? Is one more likely to work than the other?
And, just to finish, a quote I found which seemed to sum things up so well:
Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart.
Saturday, 26 February 2011
Bring on the WaterWorks.. Part 2
This is a follow-up to Friday's post, brought on by a quote from a book I recently read (and loved)...
"These days grief seems like walking on a frozen river; most of the time he feels safe enough, but there is always the danger that he will plunge through. Now he hears the ice crack beneath him, and so intense and panicking is the sensation that he has to stand for a moment, press his hands to his face and catch his breath."
This character had lost a loved one 2 years before and, although nothing I've been through has come close to his loss, this is sometimes exactly how I feel and my breakdown on Friday seems to fit this description perfectly. I was feeling fine, but all it took was one crack, one look of concern from Dr F and one moment of weakness on my part and I fell headlong and couldn't stop. I wasn't able to calm myself as this character did.. I let the momentum carry me along, instead of stopping it in it's tracks and then I was powerless.
So what does this mean for me and where am I in this journey? I guess it means that I am still grieving.. Grieving the loss of the natural conception that we will probably never experience. Grieving that we won't feel the joy of getting pregnant 'by surprise', without the help of doctors, needles, tests and invasive procedures. Grieving the fact that so much of our life together has been spent trying to start our family, instead of enjoying and relishing precious time with it.
That's not to say that I feel this grief every day. I don't and I almost feel guilty calling it grief when so many of you have been through so much more. But I think grief is what it is and certainly what I was experiencing on Friday in a moment when the ice well and truly cracked beneath my feet. But now the ice is solid again and feels strong enough to walk on, if not to jump up and down on just yet! And I know the day will come when I'll be skating on that ice and feeling no fear of cracks and I look forward to that.
"These days grief seems like walking on a frozen river; most of the time he feels safe enough, but there is always the danger that he will plunge through. Now he hears the ice crack beneath him, and so intense and panicking is the sensation that he has to stand for a moment, press his hands to his face and catch his breath."
This character had lost a loved one 2 years before and, although nothing I've been through has come close to his loss, this is sometimes exactly how I feel and my breakdown on Friday seems to fit this description perfectly. I was feeling fine, but all it took was one crack, one look of concern from Dr F and one moment of weakness on my part and I fell headlong and couldn't stop. I wasn't able to calm myself as this character did.. I let the momentum carry me along, instead of stopping it in it's tracks and then I was powerless.
So what does this mean for me and where am I in this journey? I guess it means that I am still grieving.. Grieving the loss of the natural conception that we will probably never experience. Grieving that we won't feel the joy of getting pregnant 'by surprise', without the help of doctors, needles, tests and invasive procedures. Grieving the fact that so much of our life together has been spent trying to start our family, instead of enjoying and relishing precious time with it.
That's not to say that I feel this grief every day. I don't and I almost feel guilty calling it grief when so many of you have been through so much more. But I think grief is what it is and certainly what I was experiencing on Friday in a moment when the ice well and truly cracked beneath my feet. But now the ice is solid again and feels strong enough to walk on, if not to jump up and down on just yet! And I know the day will come when I'll be skating on that ice and feeling no fear of cracks and I look forward to that.
Friday, 25 February 2011
Bring on the waterworks...
I'm not sure if the title of this post means the same thing in different countries, but bear with me...
Today's post is not the one I'd envisaged. Today was my 1st acupunture session and I've been feeling great this week and I'd imagined a post full of humour and positivity about the weirdness, and hopefully effectiveness, of lying around with needles sticking out of my meridians. But it didn't turn out that way because (hence the title), I cried virtually all the way through the appointment.
It took me completely by surprise. I'd been rehearsing my little infertility story in the taxi on the way over there and was thinking, fairly smugly, 'Thank goodness I'll be able to get through this without crying this time!'. Because I have a history of bursting into tears whenever I need to explain our situation to a medical professional, family member, friend, casual acquaintance, shop keeper etc. But I really have been feeling better recently and managed to tell a new friend all about it this week, with a minimum of tears and sniffling.
So, I sat with Dr F (an American - this will become relevant later), he looked at me intently, asked me how I was feeling and I burst into tears. Actual tears dripping down my face, accompanied by a dripping nose. I sniffed and wiped my nose with my hand as Dr F neglected to get me a tissue (what kind of Dr specialising in fertility treatment doesn't keep a bumper box of tissues on his desk? Surely I'm not the first weeper?!). I managed to get through our story and started to calm down as he went into the questions about my periods and bowels.. hard to cry whilst trying to decide if your periods are lite, lite plus, regular, regular plus or heavy (seriously).
Then I told him I have Coeliac disease and he started to talk about the fact that I have an auto-immune disease and, although not really factored in by Western doctors, this was considered significant in Chinese medicine. The thought of my immune system rejecting our potential baby set me off again*
And then I couldn't really stop. I lay on the bed ready for the needles and the the tears just flowed out of the sides of my eyes, down my face and into my ears. This carried on whilst Dr F inserted the needles (which was fine by the way) and then left me to 'rest' for half an hour. Gradually the tears dried up and by the time he came back into the room, I was feeling better. Not better in a profound, weight-lifted, positive kind of way.. no, no, just a 'Thank God I'm not weeping like an idiot any more', kind of way. I went to the bathroom and removed the bits of tissue (I had to ask Dr F to get me one in the end) which were now stuck to my eyelids, in my hair etc and tried to recover my dignity. Then it was time to pay and 'See you next week? Same time?'.
So what was that all about? As I said, I do have a history of crying when I talk about our infertility, but I am a regular and prolific crier anyway (at books, movies, crap TV series, American Idol etc), so that's not too surprising. But, as I said before (me thinks she doth protest too much...) I've been feeling great recently. I feel that leaving work was the right decision, that taking a couple of months off before IVF was a good idea and I feel ready for it. So why, when confronted by a concerned face, do I still collapse into a heap on the floor (imagine the Wicked Witch of the West after a run in with a bucket of water)? I haven't worked it out yet. Particularly because I don't have this response with the Chinese doctors at the local fertility clinic. Maybe because they don't have time to look concerned and mock-interested or to ask that fatal question 'How are you feeling?'. Maybe it's a good thing that I'm having this treatment here in China. Maybe, if I were at home in the UK, I'd be dissolving into tears at every clinic appointment, with every touch on the shoulder from a nurse, with every hint of concern from a doctor. So maybe I'm in the best place... physically, if not quite emotionally!
* I realise that, compared to women who've suffered miscarriages and losses, I have little reason to cry at this point.
Today's post is not the one I'd envisaged. Today was my 1st acupunture session and I've been feeling great this week and I'd imagined a post full of humour and positivity about the weirdness, and hopefully effectiveness, of lying around with needles sticking out of my meridians. But it didn't turn out that way because (hence the title), I cried virtually all the way through the appointment.
It took me completely by surprise. I'd been rehearsing my little infertility story in the taxi on the way over there and was thinking, fairly smugly, 'Thank goodness I'll be able to get through this without crying this time!'. Because I have a history of bursting into tears whenever I need to explain our situation to a medical professional, family member, friend, casual acquaintance, shop keeper etc. But I really have been feeling better recently and managed to tell a new friend all about it this week, with a minimum of tears and sniffling.
So, I sat with Dr F (an American - this will become relevant later), he looked at me intently, asked me how I was feeling and I burst into tears. Actual tears dripping down my face, accompanied by a dripping nose. I sniffed and wiped my nose with my hand as Dr F neglected to get me a tissue (what kind of Dr specialising in fertility treatment doesn't keep a bumper box of tissues on his desk? Surely I'm not the first weeper?!). I managed to get through our story and started to calm down as he went into the questions about my periods and bowels.. hard to cry whilst trying to decide if your periods are lite, lite plus, regular, regular plus or heavy (seriously).
Then I told him I have Coeliac disease and he started to talk about the fact that I have an auto-immune disease and, although not really factored in by Western doctors, this was considered significant in Chinese medicine. The thought of my immune system rejecting our potential baby set me off again*
And then I couldn't really stop. I lay on the bed ready for the needles and the the tears just flowed out of the sides of my eyes, down my face and into my ears. This carried on whilst Dr F inserted the needles (which was fine by the way) and then left me to 'rest' for half an hour. Gradually the tears dried up and by the time he came back into the room, I was feeling better. Not better in a profound, weight-lifted, positive kind of way.. no, no, just a 'Thank God I'm not weeping like an idiot any more', kind of way. I went to the bathroom and removed the bits of tissue (I had to ask Dr F to get me one in the end) which were now stuck to my eyelids, in my hair etc and tried to recover my dignity. Then it was time to pay and 'See you next week? Same time?'.
So what was that all about? As I said, I do have a history of crying when I talk about our infertility, but I am a regular and prolific crier anyway (at books, movies, crap TV series, American Idol etc), so that's not too surprising. But, as I said before (me thinks she doth protest too much...) I've been feeling great recently. I feel that leaving work was the right decision, that taking a couple of months off before IVF was a good idea and I feel ready for it. So why, when confronted by a concerned face, do I still collapse into a heap on the floor (imagine the Wicked Witch of the West after a run in with a bucket of water)? I haven't worked it out yet. Particularly because I don't have this response with the Chinese doctors at the local fertility clinic. Maybe because they don't have time to look concerned and mock-interested or to ask that fatal question 'How are you feeling?'. Maybe it's a good thing that I'm having this treatment here in China. Maybe, if I were at home in the UK, I'd be dissolving into tears at every clinic appointment, with every touch on the shoulder from a nurse, with every hint of concern from a doctor. So maybe I'm in the best place... physically, if not quite emotionally!
* I realise that, compared to women who've suffered miscarriages and losses, I have little reason to cry at this point.
Sunday, 20 February 2011
Welcome to ILCWers
This is my first time participating in ICLW and I've been browsing, reading and commenting on more blogs than ever :) For our story in brief, see the timeline below on the right. For more detail (and if you've got a lot of time on your hands), check out my 1st three posts from the beginning of 2011.
Welcome!
Welcome!
Damn it! I should've said...
What is the best response to a fertile's stupid/insensitive/rude question? Last night, I went for dinner with a new group of women, who all have food allergies, like me. They were mostly older and all but me and 1 other had children. To be fair, it took more than an hour for one of them to ask me if I wanted children (btw, this woman had already managed to get into conversation that she was nearly 40 when they decided to try for children and 'of course' got pregnant 'just like that' - please accompany with a finger-snap for the full 'rub my nose in it' effect). I responded with my usual 'No' uttered with a fairly positive tone, but not meeting the questionner's eyes so it should be clear that the conversation was over. That didn't do the trick and it was followed up with 'Do you want them?'. And (I'm still kicking myself) I muttered a half-incoherent 'Maybe.. sometime' and looked uncomfortable. The other non-parent at the table tried to back me up with a comment about how nice it is to give them back when they're other people's, but I didn't handle it well.
So, in retrospect AND for future instances which I'm sure there will be, what should I have said? If I've said 'Yes', again without meeting anyone's eyes, would that have ended the conversation? Or would it just have invited more questions? I'm thinking "Fuck No!" accompanied by a wince and shudder would've been a more conclusive way to end the topic. There's always the option of being honest and the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable people look once I launch into my infertility story, but there's just no coming back from that, is there?
All suggestions welcome!
So, in retrospect AND for future instances which I'm sure there will be, what should I have said? If I've said 'Yes', again without meeting anyone's eyes, would that have ended the conversation? Or would it just have invited more questions? I'm thinking "Fuck No!" accompanied by a wince and shudder would've been a more conclusive way to end the topic. There's always the option of being honest and the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable people look once I launch into my infertility story, but there's just no coming back from that, is there?
All suggestions welcome!
Monday, 14 February 2011
Time on my hands
I'm now back from a lovely 12 day holiday in the sun over the Lunar New Year holiday and it's time to unload (or should it be upload?!) all the thoughts that have been swimming round my brain whilst lying on the beach doing absolutely nothing. Because the problem with beach holidays is all the time to think!
Luckily this holiday was much more peaceful that others over the last 2 and a half years.. that is, my mind has been much more peaceful than in the past. Until October 2010, I was working fulltime and holidays were a rare chance to sit and reflect. I really struggled with seeing young families playing on the sand.. a cute baby was enough to bring me to tears and a baby bump would have me wistfully staring until I forced my eyes away for fear of looking like a pyscho.
With 3 IUIs out of the way and the decision made to have IVF, I felt much better during this trip. That's not to say that there weren't any blips... The sight of a couple of cute toddlers on the beach with their fathers hit me hard one evening and I couldn't hold back the tears. My bloke looked horrified when he saw me welling up, but seemed to work out the reason pretty quickly and didn't push me to explain. The only other 'moment' was seeing a particularly happy looking family.. Dad pushing a toddler in a buggy and Mum, looking happy and blooming at about 7 months pregnant. But I have now accepted that we need IVF (or, at least it's our best chance of having a baby anytime soon) and am hopeful that it will be successful.
That doesn't mean there wasn't other fertility stuff going round my head during my hols, so brace yourself for a few more musings over the next few days!
Luckily this holiday was much more peaceful that others over the last 2 and a half years.. that is, my mind has been much more peaceful than in the past. Until October 2010, I was working fulltime and holidays were a rare chance to sit and reflect. I really struggled with seeing young families playing on the sand.. a cute baby was enough to bring me to tears and a baby bump would have me wistfully staring until I forced my eyes away for fear of looking like a pyscho.
With 3 IUIs out of the way and the decision made to have IVF, I felt much better during this trip. That's not to say that there weren't any blips... The sight of a couple of cute toddlers on the beach with their fathers hit me hard one evening and I couldn't hold back the tears. My bloke looked horrified when he saw me welling up, but seemed to work out the reason pretty quickly and didn't push me to explain. The only other 'moment' was seeing a particularly happy looking family.. Dad pushing a toddler in a buggy and Mum, looking happy and blooming at about 7 months pregnant. But I have now accepted that we need IVF (or, at least it's our best chance of having a baby anytime soon) and am hopeful that it will be successful.
That doesn't mean there wasn't other fertility stuff going round my head during my hols, so brace yourself for a few more musings over the next few days!
Sunday, 23 January 2011
IVF... here we come!
Well my period arrived on Saturday.. 16dpiui, which is exactly when it arrived after our other 2 IUIs, so it shouldn't have been a surprise really! And it wasn't, although I was hanging onto the hope that it wouldn't appear until the very last minute... which was another 'morning dream' early Saturday when the stomach cramps must have been influencing my subconscious and I dreamt that I'd started.
I was sad and had a little cry on my bloke and he said all the right things which helped. Then we went out with a 'new' friend and her husband on Saturday night and I had a couple of glasses of wine (and a couple of vodkas.. and a couple of free shots from the barman ;o). It was just what I needed, though I'm going to stay off the booze as much as possible in the next few months ready for the next step..
Which is IVF, or maybe ICSI depending on what the clinic think. It always looked likely that we would need this treatment and I've been mentally preparing myself for it throughout the lap/hyst and IUIs. And I think I'm ready.. I'd planned to go to the clinic this week and see what the next steps are. We go on holiday on Saturday night for 12 days over Chinese New Year and I thought it would be good to get any blood tests done beforehand.
But now I find myself hesitating.. Maybe I won't go to the clinic today. Maybe I won't go before we leave for our holiday. Maybe I need to take a break.. It's stupid. After so long TTC and feeling out of control, I always feel better when I'm 'doing something', when I'm taking back control. And I know that I'll kick myself if I wait until mid-Feb to go to the clinic and then find out that the blood tests take a month or some stupid amount of time to come back. So maybe I'll go today...
I was sad and had a little cry on my bloke and he said all the right things which helped. Then we went out with a 'new' friend and her husband on Saturday night and I had a couple of glasses of wine (and a couple of vodkas.. and a couple of free shots from the barman ;o). It was just what I needed, though I'm going to stay off the booze as much as possible in the next few months ready for the next step..
Which is IVF, or maybe ICSI depending on what the clinic think. It always looked likely that we would need this treatment and I've been mentally preparing myself for it throughout the lap/hyst and IUIs. And I think I'm ready.. I'd planned to go to the clinic this week and see what the next steps are. We go on holiday on Saturday night for 12 days over Chinese New Year and I thought it would be good to get any blood tests done beforehand.
But now I find myself hesitating.. Maybe I won't go to the clinic today. Maybe I won't go before we leave for our holiday. Maybe I need to take a break.. It's stupid. After so long TTC and feeling out of control, I always feel better when I'm 'doing something', when I'm taking back control. And I know that I'll kick myself if I wait until mid-Feb to go to the clinic and then find out that the blood tests take a month or some stupid amount of time to come back. So maybe I'll go today...
Monday, 17 January 2011
Disappointment, confusion and hopefully acceptance.
I really don't know the real 'message' of this post. I'd intended to write today about the 2ww and how difficult I've been finding this one in particular. Then this morning I had weird half-dreams about taking pregnancy tests, cramping and stuff. I awoke to 'real' cramping and spotting and I'm only 11dpiui. Obviously I was gutted. I decided to POAS just to make the reality 'stick' and of course, it was BFN.
So this post should be about that BFN and how it feels to know our last IUI is over and preparing for the move to IVF. But, as usual, I can't let it drop. I've been Googling 'implantation spotting/cramping' in 100 different combinations all morning. It's not the first time I've done this and, I know that, until my period starts for real, I won't be able to let that hope go. Also, I'm having strange, very localised twinges over my right ovary region which are unusual for me, so that is fuelling the fire of my fevered imagination.
I 'know' this cycle is over somewhere inside me, but it's going to take a little while to sink in. I've only cried a little today.. once when I told bloke by SMS and he replied with a lovely message, but including the evil 'B' word... 'baby'. I can only deal with this process if I think of needles, eggs, sperm and hormones and try not to attach it to that magical goal for which we're aiming, as stupid as that sounds.
So, what is the post about? I hope the title says it all
So this post should be about that BFN and how it feels to know our last IUI is over and preparing for the move to IVF. But, as usual, I can't let it drop. I've been Googling 'implantation spotting/cramping' in 100 different combinations all morning. It's not the first time I've done this and, I know that, until my period starts for real, I won't be able to let that hope go. Also, I'm having strange, very localised twinges over my right ovary region which are unusual for me, so that is fuelling the fire of my fevered imagination.
I 'know' this cycle is over somewhere inside me, but it's going to take a little while to sink in. I've only cried a little today.. once when I told bloke by SMS and he replied with a lovely message, but including the evil 'B' word... 'baby'. I can only deal with this process if I think of needles, eggs, sperm and hormones and try not to attach it to that magical goal for which we're aiming, as stupid as that sounds.
So, what is the post about? I hope the title says it all
Monday, 10 January 2011
Stuff we're not supposed to talk about...
Infertility itself could be considered to fall into this category.. maybe not that we're not SUPPOSED to talk about it, maybe more that it's an awkward topic, something that people don't really want to think about unless they have to. I'm sure that anyone who's undergoing fertility treatment has endured the experience of telling a friend, colleague or family member about their situation, hoping for support, understanding and empathy... only to be faced with stricken looks, muttering of platitudes and awkward hand-wringing.. and that's a best-case scenario!
But that's not what this post is really about. It's about the feelings that I've been experiencing during this process. Feelings that I feel guilty about, that make me feel like an evil, selfish, uncaring person. These feelings revolve around pregnancies - other people's, not mine, obviously! I started the process of TTC so optimistically, presuming that, once off the pill, I'd get pregnant fairly quickly - at least within a year or so. Which is exactly how it should happen and how it does for over 85% of couples (95% get pregnant within 2 years). Which is great, right? Of course it is.. if you're one of those couples. And if you're not?..
Well, I made plans that fitted around our TTC 'schedule'. We moved to China 9 months after our wedding and had 10 more months before our insurance would cover maternity - so we waited. I got a job and started work, presuming that my 1 year contract would be the last I'd sign for a while. My boss had just had a baby so he was overflowing with stories about the little one - it was so exciting! I pictured my bloke in those shoes and couldn't wait!
After 9 months we started TTC. I joined a yoga studio, but thought it wise not to go to Hot Yoga, just in case I got pregnant. I gave up alcohol (well, cut down a lot at least!). And we waited (a theme of today if you saw my earlier post!). I signed another work contract and then another. My boss's wife got pregnant for a second time and they had another baby. And I started dreading the emails from friends back home, the Facebook postings, the phone calls...
Because, and this is what people don't talk about, I don't want to know. I don't want to hear about other people's pregnancies. I don't want to see those pictures of tiny babies in babygros and little hats, sandwiched between grinning, over the moon parents and grandparents. I don't want to hear from friends passing on their news of a 2nd baby, all in the time that we've been TTC.
Of course, I don't let it show. Luckily, most of the news comes via the computer. So I can read, cry and then write a suitably congratulatory email. After a while, my bloke would come home, see my face and know I'd received more 'good' news. And with every sick to the stomach feeling of jealousy, I feel bad.. guilty.. ashamed that I can't be happy for my friends.. happy that they don't have to go through what we're going through. 'Misery loves company' as the saying goes and it's true. I feel relieved when I hear that other people are struggling, that it's taking a long time, that they might need treatment.
I hope that all this doesn't mean I'm a bad person, a sick person. I hope that I just need people to understand what I'm going through, to really understand and not just offer those platitudes that do little to help. I hope that it means that I just don't want to be alone in all this. Because alone is so often how I feel. Rationally, I wouldn't wish this experience on anyone. I want to know that my friends are happy, that they've got the families they dream of and plan for. And I do experience happiness for friends as they announce their happy events, particularly those who have undergone fertility treatment. But that sick feeling and nagging voice 'why can't that be me?' never quite go away. Or, at least, they haven't yet.
But that's not what this post is really about. It's about the feelings that I've been experiencing during this process. Feelings that I feel guilty about, that make me feel like an evil, selfish, uncaring person. These feelings revolve around pregnancies - other people's, not mine, obviously! I started the process of TTC so optimistically, presuming that, once off the pill, I'd get pregnant fairly quickly - at least within a year or so. Which is exactly how it should happen and how it does for over 85% of couples (95% get pregnant within 2 years). Which is great, right? Of course it is.. if you're one of those couples. And if you're not?..
Well, I made plans that fitted around our TTC 'schedule'. We moved to China 9 months after our wedding and had 10 more months before our insurance would cover maternity - so we waited. I got a job and started work, presuming that my 1 year contract would be the last I'd sign for a while. My boss had just had a baby so he was overflowing with stories about the little one - it was so exciting! I pictured my bloke in those shoes and couldn't wait!
After 9 months we started TTC. I joined a yoga studio, but thought it wise not to go to Hot Yoga, just in case I got pregnant. I gave up alcohol (well, cut down a lot at least!). And we waited (a theme of today if you saw my earlier post!). I signed another work contract and then another. My boss's wife got pregnant for a second time and they had another baby. And I started dreading the emails from friends back home, the Facebook postings, the phone calls...
Because, and this is what people don't talk about, I don't want to know. I don't want to hear about other people's pregnancies. I don't want to see those pictures of tiny babies in babygros and little hats, sandwiched between grinning, over the moon parents and grandparents. I don't want to hear from friends passing on their news of a 2nd baby, all in the time that we've been TTC.
Of course, I don't let it show. Luckily, most of the news comes via the computer. So I can read, cry and then write a suitably congratulatory email. After a while, my bloke would come home, see my face and know I'd received more 'good' news. And with every sick to the stomach feeling of jealousy, I feel bad.. guilty.. ashamed that I can't be happy for my friends.. happy that they don't have to go through what we're going through. 'Misery loves company' as the saying goes and it's true. I feel relieved when I hear that other people are struggling, that it's taking a long time, that they might need treatment.
I hope that all this doesn't mean I'm a bad person, a sick person. I hope that I just need people to understand what I'm going through, to really understand and not just offer those platitudes that do little to help. I hope that it means that I just don't want to be alone in all this. Because alone is so often how I feel. Rationally, I wouldn't wish this experience on anyone. I want to know that my friends are happy, that they've got the families they dream of and plan for. And I do experience happiness for friends as they announce their happy events, particularly those who have undergone fertility treatment. But that sick feeling and nagging voice 'why can't that be me?' never quite go away. Or, at least, they haven't yet.
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