Tuesday, 9 April 2013

When you look at it like that

First off, you guys. You guys. I mean seriously, it's these little nuggets of kindness and encouragement that lift me in such times and all your comments and emails were so appreciated. Thank you. 

I'm not going to lie; the last few days have been exhausting. Between tying up all kinds of loose ends as my job winds down, and my grief hangover, I don't have much physical or emotional energy these days. (This is not helped by another round of will-she-won't-she erratic menstruation antics on the part of my disobedient body). Right now, my Spring ain't looking so Invincible people.

Still, I'm putting one foot in front of the other. I'm slowly trying to catch up on all your blog news, and on my commenting. My brain has been intermittently weighing pros and cons, cons and pros in all of this, trying to figure out where I am for the moment...I'm trying to focus on pretty, shiny objects little things that bring me happiness, and just stay with that. Because that's the thing I know how to do, and what else is there, really?


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It's not just my metaphorical spring which seems to have been deferred. We had snow flurries again last night. No kidding. I'm missing the sun and the close-by beaches of Portugal now more than ever. On the other hand, if H's weather divination has any basis, we're still in for some good things in the remaining three seasons of this year. I'm going to go with that.


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 Yesterday was my last real day of work at my current job. I had to accompany a student to an offsite visit where most of the clients are mental health patients recovering from substance misuse. Within 20 minutes of arriving, I'd had encounters with two men in their 70s. One wanted to know if I'd accepted, really accepted, the Gospels into my life. He followed me around the facility until I explained my confused Catholic/Jewish parentage and my personal views (Holy atheist, Batman!) and that finally stumped him. The other guy  - in his 70s, remember - kept eyeing me and my student with a creepy leer, and tried to ahem...shall we say 'win me' without apparently realizing the coffee he was drinking was ending up in a fine spray on our faces. Yeah, he was hot stuff alright. Fun times. Will I miss this part of the job? For the most part, not so much.


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I'm down and out for another cycle. I was neither hopeful nor despairing this time around (in fact I pretty solidly found other things to think about), and so ends another two week wait, less eventful than many that have come before, and for that I am thankful. Still, after two + years of staking my existential status on where I sit in a monthly, merry-go-round cycle, all this uncertainty that my body is dishing out makes it hard for me to relax into the early part of my cycle. I'm Cycle Day...? 2? 3? -1? I have no clue. It's on and off and this is definitely signalling a less-than-reassuring new chapter. Luckily, the lovely Dr. B was entirely true to his word, and we have an appointment to meet with his colleagues in the sub-fertility clinic in just over two weeks. I'm hoping they'll be able to get to the bottom of all this faffing about that my body is doing. By then all my RPL panel results should be back so we can review those as well. I feel like I'm getting good care at last, and people who listen and follow up.


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Crucially, H and I are making big progress on working through our own ideas on the 'what next'. I hinted previously that we'd approached some more concrete plans in this department. Another long, tear-filled, looking-forward (and ultimately very cathartic) heart-to-heart took place over the weekend, and we finally have some sense of where we're ready to go. At our appointment on the 24th we'll ask about possibilities for IVF. We finally fulfil the criteria for 24 months of active ttc without any positive results (technically the year after S died was spent much more actively on grieving than on making a new baby). We still don't know the wheres or hows or whens, exactly (and there's still all the other uncertainty to deal with). But until quite recently, H had trouble with the idea of any kind of major intervention. He admitted himself that it was a kind of protective denial of the reality of our situation. So this is big. Huge.

And just like that, it looks like we might be boarding the IVF train. Holy shit. Honestly though, I'm hoping it'll give us the feeling of moving in a solid direction. Any direction is better, surely, than spinning our wheels as we have been for so many months now.

So good/bad/good/bad/good/bad. All in all, I think I can work with this. I just need to catch my breath first.



A real mixed bag, sweet and sour. Source.

10 comments:

  1. Just take it easy. Go with the flow, but continue forward, doing what you can, which is what you are doing. I am crossing my fingers that something (maybe IVF) will work soon.

    And this: "H had trouble with the idea of any kind of major intervention. He admitted himself that it was a kind of protective denial of the reality of our situation" is exactly how I felt.

    Just before starting IUI, realizing that we would *need medical help* to conceive was very, very hard for me. I fought it with all my energy and soul. It was a strategy I think, to make myself believe that *this* was not happening to us. That it was just a matter of waiting a bit longer for it to naturally happen. I had always been against using hormones, any kind. Which is why I never ever used the pill as contraception. I was afraid of how the hormones might affect my body, disbalance my cycles, and also of the emotional effects associated with it. I was scared to death. And then we jumped. And it's not all that bad (luckily I do not get ANY side effects from the follitotropin, HCG or progesterone stimulation, except, for maybe, mild tiredness).

    Now, if it turns out that we will need IVF too (we have 1 more IUI to go, if that does not work... they will transfer us for IVF) I am ok with it. Of course I would much rather prefer to get pregnant with a less invasive procedure (I think anyone wants that) but at this point I'm just like: "Science, bring it on". And I feel infinitely blessed and lucky that the health insurance system here (a mix of private and subsidized) covers fertility treatments.

    Sending you all the best wishes and thinking of you.

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  2. Thank you so much Amanda. What you describe is me EXACTLY. Although I think maybe I consciously came to terms with the fertility stuff earlier than my husband, it's a big leap between that and being prepared, knowing what to do about it.

    Like you, I have always been very wary about the artificial use of hormones and like you, I even avoided the pill. I'm still nervous about the implications of it (not only for myself, but more broadly and for the environment, etc). Considering these treatment options are not something I'd do lightly. But right now, my desire to keep fighting for the future we want outweighs those concerns.

    The main thing is that we're talking about it and agreeing on what steps to take next, and that already brings some sense of calm and purpose. Now let's see what the future has in store for us.

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  3. I'm sorry to hear that the IVF club has another member. I wish none of us needed it! I really hope it brings you the answers you seek. Plus, what a bonus that your insurance covers it!

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    1. Thanks for your thoughts, and although it's not a fun thing to be contemplating, I feel heartened and less scared having had the wonderful opportunity to follow stories like yours. Thanks for being there.
      And yes, we are very lucky to be living in a part of the country that will cover this expense. The UK healthcare system has a terrible 'postcode lottery', but for once fortune is on our side!

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  4. I was in total denial that we would need medical intervention. We were TTC for 2 years before I even saw an RE for testing. I did not want to believe we were headed down that path.
    I am sorry that IVF appears to be on the horizon, but if it gets you what you want then it's all worth it. And it is nice to feel like you are moving forward.

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    1. I guess denial and reckless hope do have a lot to do with it, Of course no one wants to contemplate IVF as an eventuality, but as I said, my desire for a living baby totally outweighs any concerns I have at this point. Thank you for sharing your journey and making it all feel more managable. And I agree, just the feeling of moving forward is a big emotional boost.

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  5. Jump on the IVF train! Honestly, I was the same way. I didn't want to put drugs into my system to conceive a baby- I don't even like taking Advil! Surprisingly, IVF has been much easier than I thought it was going to be and as you know, we were lucky to get a good result on our first try.

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    1. Thanks for the encouragement! I can only hope that my experience might be as starightforward as yours. I'm glad you've had more good news :)

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  6. I, too, am sorry that IVF is lurking in the wings for you. I have a friend whose 6th IUI just failed. She and her husband are trying to get used to the idea that it might be time for IVF. They are a bit reluctant for financial reasons as well as other reasons. It seems like an easy decision to make -- until you or someone you know is facing it. I think that's the biggest struggle with TTC. No one, not even one's own mother, can know what it's like unless they have been there themselves. And, you're so right. It's all exhausting.

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    1. Thanks for your kind words and support Lauren. There is so much more in terms of emotional and medical (and for many, financial) committment than anyone realizes, and you're so right - the isolation of realizing others can't understand your struggle is very difficult. I hope you're continuing to feel some healing.

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