I’m fed up. Utterly fed up.
I’m fed up of not getting pregnant, I’m fed up of getting stressed about my periods, which only last for 1 day of light spotting. I’m fed up of knowing what day of my cycle I’m on and I’m really fed up of having sex with my husband when I don’t particularly feel like it (headache, tired etc) just because I’m ovulating. I feel I should point out: I love my husband, I fancy the pants off him, but the thought process of “It’s CD whatever, we’d better have sex” is not a turn-on. Especially when month after month it just doesn’t work. I’m fed up of analysing the soreness factor of my boobs and I’m fed up of feeling guilty about drinking coffee/wine/not taking that bloody folic acid (is anything a greater daily reminder of your failure to be a fertile woman?) just in case.
(Edited to add: I’m also REALLY fed up of people who really should know better saying such useless things to me as “you could still be pregnant, just one of those women who still has periods and negative pregnancy tests.” I mean, come on… I feel a very strong need to swear.)
We’re midway through our fertility investigations: just waiting for my HSG which isn’t for a few months. I don’t mind waiting too much, we’ve got a house move in the meantime, but I do feel somewhat as if now I’ve got onto a train that I can’t get off. There is this incessant slow movement forwards towards IVF/FET and I’m in the system now, no matter what. I feel I can’t escape it, and I’m wondering if this was the right thing to do.
To be blunt, IVF/FET (which may be more likely what we’d have to do) scares the pants off me. I know it’s huge, I dread to think what sort of toll it’ll have on me physically (all that oestrogen…) let alone mentally. I know that it’ll more likely not work than work. I know that even if it does work there are no guarantees, particularly for me, having a significant proportion of endometrium missing, that I’ll even be able to carry a baby. And that just breaks my heart. I don’t know if I can go into this with a likelihood of failure, of miscarriage or stillbirth. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.
I know IVF isn’t a miracle cure. God knows I know that. I know it won’t be happiness and roses and it certainly won’t be without problem. I feel it shouldn’t be taken lightly. And I don’t know if I’m ready for it. At the moment, I’m not even sure if I want it. I used to think it wouldn’t be such a big deal, we’d just do it and it’d be fine, but now I know (thanks to our last scan/meeting with the consultant) we’re heading that way, suddenly I feel out of control and careering towards something I’m not sure about.
Out of control. It’s a good way to describe the infertility journey isn’t it? You do your best, you control what you can, but at the end of the day it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. So, my way of regaining control is to stop trying. Or, at least I’m trying to stop trying. I need a break. I need to not know what day of my cycle I’m on. I need to remember that what my husband and I have is good, is enough. It was enough 3 years ago when I married him, it should be enough now.
I’m flatly refusing to do IVF before next year. I can’t. The earliest it would be anyway now is Christmas, and just – no thanks. Christmas ruined by failure/drugs/stress? No. I shall curl up with my husband and my dog (which we shall have shortly) and shut the world out. We shall all wear pyjamas, all day, and drink champagne, and cuddle up under a blanket. Then, in January, is my 30th birthday. I don’t want to be doing IVF then either. I know about success rates decreasing with age, but I ain’t that old, and I really don’t think a few months will make any difference.
It might make a difference to me though, and my emotional state.
I was congratulated recently, on my negative outlook on IVF, and the fact I thought it wouldn’t work. By someone who knew not what they were talking about, I might add. Apparently it’s healthier, compared to her other friend who is doing IVF right now, who is positive and hopeful. I told her that my negativity is borne of failure, of loss, of a broken heart. I told her that I’d love to feel hope again, that I’d love to believe it could work for us. That a future child/embryo deserves nothing less than your hope and your love.
Instead, I am trying to get my head round the idea of a childless life, just in case, and wondering if it would really be so bad after all.
My husband is of the “if it doesn’t work, we’ll just adopt” mindset. Adoption also scares me, and I know that we have to do it, if we do, for the right reasons, and it cannot be a back up. It’s a whole different ballgame of parenting, and while I suspect, being the sort of people we are, we might not be awful at it, we cannot do it while still craving a biological child. No matter how much IVF scares me, I’m not ready to let go. Not yet.
Anyway, in about a month or so we shall be moving, and we shall be taking home a beautiful retired greyhound. And she is funny, and quirky, and loving, and will expand our little family, and bring us joy. And be really happy to greet us when we walk in the door.