I've been full of cold and also had a sickness bug in recent weeks, which is probably what led to my period being two days late. Usually, it's bang on 4 weeks since the last one started, maybe a day early.
Despite knowing that it's as good as impssible for me to get pregnant, my imagination still runs away with me at times like this. And when you discover that, no, this is not some kind of miracle, no your cycle continues without interruption, it's very depressing.
I really struggle to know how to pray on these days of wild imaginings. Do I wish for pregnancy? But then, if I turn out not to be, I feel I've let myself down by voicing the desire. And ashamed of the inevitable bitterness that follows on from the the plea not being upheld. (I don't really believe in the kind of God who makes me pregnant because I've asked, ignoring someone else who hasn't).
It doesn't matter if I voice a desire to God that isn't strictly in keeping with what I believe about him. I know that in my head. But I'm too proud to do it comfortably! I want to pretend that I feel only the things I think are right.
Incidentally, the rigmarole of mess, discomfort and tampax every month becomes so much more annoying when you know you've spent the last 20 years of your life dealing with it FOR NO GOOD REASON WHATSOEVER!
Ho hum.
infertility
Friday, 11 November 2011
Monday, 31 October 2011
Waiting Room. + 11 months.
Biggest stress thus far happened this month. Here is what happened:
On October 5, I get a letter saying my appointment for later in the month to discuss my HSG results has been put back to November 23. They always credit such things to 'unforeseen circumstances' which is worse than no explanation, to be honest. So, a couple of days later I call IVF Wales to ask 1) why this is and 2) where we're at with the ICSI waiting list, as we've been on it nearly a year now.
They seem perplexed at this claim, look at some paperwork and tell me that, no, we went on the list in May 2011 so we would get to the 1-year stage next May. And, in fact, the wait is one year to 18 months, so that could mean treatment starts any time between May 2012 and October 2012. My heart sinks into the carpet beneath me. Quietly, I challenge what has been said to me. But I fear Dr X never did put us on that list...... they go away to check, promising to ring back.
I am so upset. Not only do I hang all my sense of stability onto the few certain points in life at the moment - these appointments being crucial examples - but a delay until even May 2012 would leave us totally stuck if we have to move for Jon's work next summer. (The treatment takes a couple of months, I think.) Potentially, we'd have to leave Wales before we'd been seen and therefore go back to square one. It doesn't bear thinking about.
My heart is beating hard when they call back. Thankfully, it's to say they've decided we should be bumped up to position as if we'd been put on the list in November 2010. As we thought. (Except the wait could drag out until May.) What a relief. Makes me realise how much tension there still is beneath the surface of my life, that I react so badly to a thing like this.
Since then, there have been two more letters changing the date of my appointment. As of now, it's likely to happen on November 21. I'll keep you posted!
On October 5, I get a letter saying my appointment for later in the month to discuss my HSG results has been put back to November 23. They always credit such things to 'unforeseen circumstances' which is worse than no explanation, to be honest. So, a couple of days later I call IVF Wales to ask 1) why this is and 2) where we're at with the ICSI waiting list, as we've been on it nearly a year now.
They seem perplexed at this claim, look at some paperwork and tell me that, no, we went on the list in May 2011 so we would get to the 1-year stage next May. And, in fact, the wait is one year to 18 months, so that could mean treatment starts any time between May 2012 and October 2012. My heart sinks into the carpet beneath me. Quietly, I challenge what has been said to me. But I fear Dr X never did put us on that list...... they go away to check, promising to ring back.
I am so upset. Not only do I hang all my sense of stability onto the few certain points in life at the moment - these appointments being crucial examples - but a delay until even May 2012 would leave us totally stuck if we have to move for Jon's work next summer. (The treatment takes a couple of months, I think.) Potentially, we'd have to leave Wales before we'd been seen and therefore go back to square one. It doesn't bear thinking about.
My heart is beating hard when they call back. Thankfully, it's to say they've decided we should be bumped up to position as if we'd been put on the list in November 2010. As we thought. (Except the wait could drag out until May.) What a relief. Makes me realise how much tension there still is beneath the surface of my life, that I react so badly to a thing like this.
Since then, there have been two more letters changing the date of my appointment. As of now, it's likely to happen on November 21. I'll keep you posted!
Sunday, 23 October 2011
Continued progress.
We have just spent a lovely weekend with some good friends in Rugby, who have two boys aged 9 months and nearly 3.
Another benefit of this whole shennanigans has been the opportunity it affords to enjoy other people's children. If I had my own, I would (rightly) be very taken up with them and their needs, and view other little ones in relation to mine. But as things are, I unreservedly appreciate the many babies and toddlers born to my friends and family members. Should we fail to conceive in the long run, I suspect the unique relationship we can enter into with others' children will be a real gift. No pride, competition, or vested interest. Just a detached (in the sense of objectivity, not lack of care) affection and concern.
Much better to get stuck into others' family life than to have friends assume you're bored in the company of children, or fail to include you in their family activities because you don't have your own. Bear this in mind, those blessed with children!
I am also really enjoying, in a way I never did before, being childless. Yes, let's go to that festival. Yes, let's spend that money. Yes, let's make sure I'm doing a job I actually want to be doing. Yes, let's stop putting off that thing I want to do. Yes, let's prune from life all that hinders its flourishing. Because, you know, this might be it. So let's enjoy it!
And, strangely, I am appreciating what it would mean to have a child much more than I did before I knew we couldn't grow one. It was just the next thing to be done, before. Now it is a thing that might happen, and if it did, it would be wonderful. I imagine, in an almost sensory way, enjoying a baby. Especially the way their heads smell! Before, I simply stressed about having one at an appropriate time and hoped I'd cope.
It's funny, really. I wouldn't say I've reached the stage where whatever happens, I'm content. But I would go as far as to say that, whether we manage to get pregnant or not, I can see many reasons why the situation would be advantageous. Or blessed, depending on your viewpoint.
Another benefit of this whole shennanigans has been the opportunity it affords to enjoy other people's children. If I had my own, I would (rightly) be very taken up with them and their needs, and view other little ones in relation to mine. But as things are, I unreservedly appreciate the many babies and toddlers born to my friends and family members. Should we fail to conceive in the long run, I suspect the unique relationship we can enter into with others' children will be a real gift. No pride, competition, or vested interest. Just a detached (in the sense of objectivity, not lack of care) affection and concern.
Much better to get stuck into others' family life than to have friends assume you're bored in the company of children, or fail to include you in their family activities because you don't have your own. Bear this in mind, those blessed with children!
I am also really enjoying, in a way I never did before, being childless. Yes, let's go to that festival. Yes, let's spend that money. Yes, let's make sure I'm doing a job I actually want to be doing. Yes, let's stop putting off that thing I want to do. Yes, let's prune from life all that hinders its flourishing. Because, you know, this might be it. So let's enjoy it!
And, strangely, I am appreciating what it would mean to have a child much more than I did before I knew we couldn't grow one. It was just the next thing to be done, before. Now it is a thing that might happen, and if it did, it would be wonderful. I imagine, in an almost sensory way, enjoying a baby. Especially the way their heads smell! Before, I simply stressed about having one at an appropriate time and hoped I'd cope.
It's funny, really. I wouldn't say I've reached the stage where whatever happens, I'm content. But I would go as far as to say that, whether we manage to get pregnant or not, I can see many reasons why the situation would be advantageous. Or blessed, depending on your viewpoint.
Saturday, 1 October 2011
What's annoying......
Well, here is what I find annoying in relation to infertility:
Can't think of anything else for now. Good to have that lot off my chest, though!
- Being asked when you are going to have children
- Social occasions when it's obvious anyone other than children and their parents are considered utterly dull
- Complaints about how the church should be more welcoming to children. From where I sit, all it thinks about is children. And the unhealthy attention (which is basically about clinging on to the next generation in order to keep the institution alive) does the littluns more harm than good.
- Moaning about parenthood on public forums like Facebook. (It can be hard to deal with the positive stuff too but at least then the comment acknowledges good fortune!)
- Facebook profile pictures that are the person's child, not them. If you see your child as your identity, where does that leave those of us who have none?
- Certain questions from well-meaning friends and family, asking you to repeat something you know you have already explained to them about infertility. This is not an easy life situation - please bother to check the facts elsewhere if you forget what I said!
- Discussions about 'family life' that limit it to a parents-and-young-kids scenario
- Christian websites that talk about fertility but do not inform you of opportunities such as IVF because they think it's immoral.
Can't think of anything else for now. Good to have that lot off my chest, though!
Monday, 26 September 2011
Changes at IVF Wales. +10 months.
Apparently, Dr X has left. Half of me is relieved because she wasn't at all agreeable. But the other half is perturbed because who knows what else has been disrupted in the process...
Hope for the best, I guess!
I am now 33 years old and we have been trying for a family for two years.
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
HSG. OMG. + 9 months
Well, that was not at all pleasant. No Sirree.
But it's over.
Can see exactly what Jon meant about Nevill Hall (it's where he produced his first sperm sample). The place is ugly, in need of a lick of paint, dark, claustrophobic, cluttered, mazelike.
I took in my urine sample, as requested, and was led from Jon and the waiting room to a tiled cubicle like those we used to change in as primary school swimmers. They gave me two gowns, and being ignorant I just put them on top of each other. (Apparently, the idea is you put one back to front so both sides of you are covered. But I managed to be modest even in the error of my ways.)
Then I took my little bag of clothes and my little body into this seemingly huge room, filled with monstrous apparatus and three women. Somehow, I had envisaged something smaller and neater. I was asked to lie on the bed, below a panel.
The oldest of the three women put a thing in me. Excuse the technical language. And then for what seemed like an eternity, one of the others tried to move me (remotely, via machines) and the x-ray machine into the optimum position. RRR. Not quite right. RRRR. No, not there. RRR up a bit. RRRR no you've taken her down. Etc.
[Excuse me but I have a massive thing stuck into my vagina and I'm wondering how long this is likely to take.... if she's a trainee, can someone just take over?]
So, we got there. And then they put a thin wire up into the thing that's in me.
The older lady explained that the wire hasn't really gone in properly, but she's going to try and inject the dye into my fallopian tubes anyway because the alternatives are very unpleasant. Great.
Praise the Lord, the dye got in. It was very uncomfortable, but also brief. A bit like a sudden onset of extreme period pain. One of the other younger women stood at my head comforting me, which was actually quite nice.
And then it was over. And the old lady asked me if I'm okay. And I said yes. And she asked if I can sit up. And I said yes. And she showed me the x-ray, which clearly demonstrates that the dye goes all the way along the tubes - ie all is well.
She also said that I have an anteverted womb. (Tipped forward, in other words). That is why it was difficult to get the wire in. But this is not seen as a problem in terms of fertility. I wonder if it is an increased obstacle to already dysfunctional sperm..... but just want to get out of there by now.
Bit shaky, out I went to Jon. Explained to him that he had to look after me for the rest of the day. This is not one of his strong points but never mind!
But it's over.
Can see exactly what Jon meant about Nevill Hall (it's where he produced his first sperm sample). The place is ugly, in need of a lick of paint, dark, claustrophobic, cluttered, mazelike.
I took in my urine sample, as requested, and was led from Jon and the waiting room to a tiled cubicle like those we used to change in as primary school swimmers. They gave me two gowns, and being ignorant I just put them on top of each other. (Apparently, the idea is you put one back to front so both sides of you are covered. But I managed to be modest even in the error of my ways.)
Then I took my little bag of clothes and my little body into this seemingly huge room, filled with monstrous apparatus and three women. Somehow, I had envisaged something smaller and neater. I was asked to lie on the bed, below a panel.
The oldest of the three women put a thing in me. Excuse the technical language. And then for what seemed like an eternity, one of the others tried to move me (remotely, via machines) and the x-ray machine into the optimum position. RRR. Not quite right. RRRR. No, not there. RRR up a bit. RRRR no you've taken her down. Etc.
[Excuse me but I have a massive thing stuck into my vagina and I'm wondering how long this is likely to take.... if she's a trainee, can someone just take over?]
So, we got there. And then they put a thin wire up into the thing that's in me.
The older lady explained that the wire hasn't really gone in properly, but she's going to try and inject the dye into my fallopian tubes anyway because the alternatives are very unpleasant. Great.
Praise the Lord, the dye got in. It was very uncomfortable, but also brief. A bit like a sudden onset of extreme period pain. One of the other younger women stood at my head comforting me, which was actually quite nice.
And then it was over. And the old lady asked me if I'm okay. And I said yes. And she asked if I can sit up. And I said yes. And she showed me the x-ray, which clearly demonstrates that the dye goes all the way along the tubes - ie all is well.
She also said that I have an anteverted womb. (Tipped forward, in other words). That is why it was difficult to get the wire in. But this is not seen as a problem in terms of fertility. I wonder if it is an increased obstacle to already dysfunctional sperm..... but just want to get out of there by now.
Bit shaky, out I went to Jon. Explained to him that he had to look after me for the rest of the day. This is not one of his strong points but never mind!
Friday, 29 July 2011
Keep your hair on! + 8 months
Bit of a nightmare getting this damned HSG in the diary.
The medical staff at Nevill Hall weren't happy with the fact the receptionist had arranged my xray for day 11 of my cycle. Obviously, that meant waiting another full month. And I was committed to some time away in London around the crucial days.
Now, because you can't firm up any appointment until your period starts, they usually refuse to schedule anything in until that day. (More fool you if it happens to be at the weekend!) But when I explained my predicament, the nice lady said she would 'provisionally' book me a place on July 29th.
My period started, as I had thought it would, on July 23rd. So far, so good. But when I called to confirm the appointment for the 29th, I was told there's no such thing as a provisional appointment and the slots are now all full until after my time window has closed.
Aaaaargh.
So, once again, I explained how regular my periods are and begged to schedule something in nice and early. She said "okay", so I now have an appointment booked for August 24th. And it is confirmed by letter! Please god.......
The medical staff at Nevill Hall weren't happy with the fact the receptionist had arranged my xray for day 11 of my cycle. Obviously, that meant waiting another full month. And I was committed to some time away in London around the crucial days.
Now, because you can't firm up any appointment until your period starts, they usually refuse to schedule anything in until that day. (More fool you if it happens to be at the weekend!) But when I explained my predicament, the nice lady said she would 'provisionally' book me a place on July 29th.
My period started, as I had thought it would, on July 23rd. So far, so good. But when I called to confirm the appointment for the 29th, I was told there's no such thing as a provisional appointment and the slots are now all full until after my time window has closed.
Aaaaargh.
So, once again, I explained how regular my periods are and begged to schedule something in nice and early. She said "okay", so I now have an appointment booked for August 24th. And it is confirmed by letter! Please god.......
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