So Close

Look away, I am about to have a ‘moment’

You know how sometimes those close to us (or even sometimes ourselves) will have one of those ‘moments; a brief emotional outburst where they spew stuff that isn’t very pretty to see. A real ‘poor me’ moment where they rant / rave / cry / wail about how unfair the universe is to them. 

If you are a good friend you will know that the last thing they want is for you to try make them feel better, or point out all the things they should be grateful for and how silly or childish they are being. Instead you know what they need is for you to just be there for them, and perhaps utter the words they need to hear: “Yes, it is damn unfair and I am really sorry you are going through this.” Whatever the ‘this’ might be.

So, get ready, I am about to have a ‘moment’ ……..

Start of Moment….

I am so insanely jealous of all those people who are able to CHOOSE when to have children and how many to have. Who decide ‘yes, lets have one’, have sex and bam! they are pregnant. No injections, no doctors visits, no pain / heartache / invasive procedures. Just sex, and then a baby.

I am so insanely jealous of those who get pregnant and are able to enjoy their pregnancy without the debilitating fear. Without bedrest, weekly scans and constant terror. Just swollen bellies and happy moments. Instead of losing four out of their five pregnancies. How fucked up is that!

I am jealous of those people who get pregnant on their first IVF, or even worse, Clomid or IUI’s. I don’t hate them (good luck to them), but I feel like an absolute and total fuck up of a failure in comparison. I hate that I feel like this. It makes me feel bitter and jealous. Which I guess I am.

I am bitter that it took me so long to get to this point, that I wasted so many years living in the hell that is infertility. I am as mad as hell that I am almost 39 and I started this shit when I was 31, that isn’t fair.

I hate that I still carry the bitterness in my heart, I hate that it STILL hurts so much. I hate that no matter how much I try and convince myself otherwise, this shit still makes me feel like a failure. 

I am sad and mad that after all I have been through; I had to go through this again and fail. Have I not been through enough? 

It’s not you. I don’t hate you, I don’t want you not to have what you have, I am just so jealous that I don’t have it too. 

And yes, I know there is cancer / poverty / war / heartache / loss / sorrow etc, and I know I have so much to be grateful for. I know that I am incredibly blessed to have my two beautiful children (at what cost, my friends, at what terrible cost). I know all of that. But dammit all, I wanted this to work. I wanted another baby. I tried, and I failed yet again. And it hurts.

Life can be bloody unfair sometimes.

……End of Moment.

There we go, rant over.  I feel better now. Thanks for not trying to make me feel better or wave all the bad feelings away. Thanks for just being there and for your ongoing support, even in the ugly times. 

I’ve done this enough times to know that it is not over until it’s over (i.e. the blood test says it’s over), but you know how sometimes you just know? Well, besides the glaring evidence of the three negative tests, I really do know that it hasn’t worked. I will still go for the blood test on Monday, but I know in my heart and in my head it hasn’t worked. And I really am ok about it. I just needed to stamp my feet and cry my tears, which I have done and I am ready to be skippy again.

I’m fine, I really am. I just needed to have my little ‘moment’. I am ready to move on with the next phase in my life. They say life begins at 40. Well, bring it on. I am ready for the good times.  My thirties were spent in anguish and frustration. No more. From now I am going to live, laugh and love. This is going to be my decade to be fabulous, just you wait and see! 

Test #3 - Getting increasingly difficult to ignore the obvious

Test #2 - Not looking good

Things I am going to do once all this ‘trying for a baby’ shite is over:

1. File my tax return. Or at least, get all my receipts to my tax consultant. WAY over due. Way. Am queen procrastinator. Hate that about myself.
2. Tidy my study. I am tired of receiving final demands for bills lost in the pile.
3. LOSE SOME WEIGHT!!! Yuck.
4. See a shrink about going back on the happy pills. Can’t live like this.
5. Fix up my hair. The dark hair is not working.
6. Immediately stop spending as if there is no tomorrow. Sort out overdraft. Make a budget etc.
7. Tidy my cupboards. Give away the stuff I will never wear again
8. Pack away all the baby stuff for good. Sob.
9. Drink wine. As if I have ever stopped.
10. Try to stop drinking so much.
11. Make an effort to look after myself some more. Start liking myself again.
12. Order those multivitamins. 
13. Focus hard on my job and catch up with all the things I have been putting off
14. Tidy the play room. Give away the toys they never play with.
15. Find a decent / appropriate play school for the kids. 
16. Book the kids into a good primary school
17. Be kinder to my husband. This will require some effort as he is acting like a total fucking DICKHEAD at the moment. Asshole.
18. Go for that massage I have been promising myself. I know it costs money, but I need it.
19. Try and be happy again and live in the moment.

Test #1 - Could be too early, could be a sign of things to come

How I really feel about this FET

Tomorrow I will be using the first of my home pregnancy tests. I have four. One for each morning until Monday, when I go for the blood test. I am pretty sure it will come up as negative. Not only is it too early to see a result, but I pretty sure this cycle hasn’t worked.  FET’s never work for me. 

I feel….kind of ok about it, and kind of sad. Sad because I really want another baby and sad because this really is my last ART (assisted reproductive technology) cycle. I am not doing another one after this. I am really, really tired of the hormones and the injections and living my life in limbo. I want to reclaim my body and my life again.

I’ve tried to be realistic about this cycle. I keep reminding myself that it probably won’t work. In fact, the odds are 90% it won’t work. Hard to argue those odds, but that 10% chance keeps fuelling my hope addict. The wistful, hopeful dreams of another child keep slipping through the forced stoicism, teasing me with the hope. I am trying so hard to be strong, brave, realistic; but dammit, I so badly want this to work.

I’ll be sad if it doesn’t work, of course I will. But no where near as sad and heartbroken as I was before Adam and Kate. They complete my life. I am so lucky. So, if it doesn’t work, I will be ok. Sad, but ok. 

Still. I really want it to work.

And what is in your hotel bathroom?

I always wonder what the hotel cleaning staff think when they come in the next day and find needles and syringes lying in the bin. 

I am going to take this as a good sign.  The last two times I shot up in hotel bathrooms, I got pregnant that cycle.  And I really need good signs, because I feel absolutely nothing. Not even the slightest bit pregnant at all. In fact I feel positively barren.

Sigh

Then, please can we have some sympathy for my severely bruised and lumpy ass. I am sorry the picture is so bad. I simply can not take a decent ass picture of myself with this phone. But believe me, the ass, she is very bumpy, lumpy and bruised. 

PS Injecting yourself in the ass (because you are alone in a hotel, far away from your husband) takes a fair of amount of skill and dexterity. I just can't do the IM injections in the leg, that is too sore. I'd rather do the pretzel twist and jab myself as close to my meaty butt cheek as I can.   

Prepared

Stir crazy

 Never before in my many and varied experiences as a serial hormone user have I ever before had such a strong reaction to the drugs. These FET drugs have turned me into a bitch on wheels. A witch. A dragon. A fucking nightmare. Even I am scared of me.

I am prone to moments of total and utter overreaction. Everything is a drama.

Yesterday, as I was driving (and making a call at the same time!) the guy in front of me took 0,5 seconds too long to pull away and I went OFF:

Oh My Fucking FUCK! DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW DRIVE??? DRIVE, YOU STUPID FUCKER, GO!!!

In the meantime, as I was venting my tirade to the (oblivious) driver in front of me, someone had picked up the phone and all I heard was this timid little voice on the other end “Sjoe*, um, hello?” 

Oops! 

I actually blushed. I pretended it was a wrong number. 

I’ve got to the point where I’ve warned all of those around me: I am totally unbalanced. Absolutely batshit crazy. VOLATILE MATERIAL – HANDLE WITH EXTREME CAUTION. 

The crazy thing is that instead of seeing this as a warning of the strongest degree – CODE RED TERROR ALERT, Marko sees this as a challenge. An open invitation to see just how far he can push / tease / annoy me before I erupt.  Usual time = 1.5 seconds. 

Marko is a consummate tease. He loves nothing better than to play tricks / fool / tease people. He is forever trying to tease or trick someone. I’ve long learnt how to deal with him, by simply ignoring the bait. He thinks he is clever, but I am cleverer. Ha! (Poor Adam and Kate are his current victims, poor buggers) 

Anyhow, this situation is too tempting for him to pass up. He can’t help himself. A little poke here, a little flick there, a gobby finger in the ear.

I’ve told him. I’ve said, “I can’t actually believe you are voluntarily taking your life into your hands like this. You are either very brave or very stupid.” And still, he continues.

If Marko ends up with an axe in the back of his head, it will not be my fault. I’ve warned him, more I can not do.

 

* ‘Sjoe’ is one of those perfect Afrikaans words that does such an excellent job of describing something, and one that doesn’t seem to have a direct translation into English. I asked three of my friends who happened to be online at the time I wrote this post and they came up with ‘phew’, ‘gosh’ and ‘whoa’. So, a mixture of those.

So so

I remember why I never bring Marko along to these things. He is a pain. He tried to grab my cooter in the lift. ARE YOU BLOODY MAD!!! There is no time for shit like that now.

Thawed 3 straws (6 embies). All 4AA blasts, originally. The two expanded blasts didn’t make it, another one fizzled out. 

Actually, better than I expected. I was convinced none would make it. Was shitting myself whole morning and every time the phone rang, I was convinced it was the clinic telling me all 8 had died. Which has happened to me previously! With 11 frozen embryos!! Can you tell these things make one just a tad paranoid!

I love my clinic. Love. The embryologist came in to give me a hug. 

So we have three, and I quote “average” embryos on board. 2AA. ‘ish.

What that means in a nutshell is that I have a chance. A small chance, as in perhaps 10% chance, but it is better than no chance at all. Beta (pregnancy test) on 2^nd July. I will be peeing on a stick from about 4 days before that.  Just to totally screw with my mind.

Keep those bits crossed.

And lastly, bon voyage to the darling Dr H, no more sleeps! Have a fabulous holiday, you deserve the break. Thanks for waiting for me to do the transfer before you left. (Ok, he was leaving today anyway, but we will pretend he was waiting for me) xxxxxxxx