While I hate to be that person that wallows in grief, the pain is so bad! Besides my amazingly compassionate husband, feeling very alone! Unless you’re going through/been through infertility, people just don’t get the pain. “Chin up” starts getting maddening!
Our doctor said the other day, The Stress of infertility amounts to the same stress as losing a loved one, I can well believe it!
After telling people you’re going through fertility treatments, to be invited to dinner with another pregnant couple is shattering, smiling at story after story of their experience so far. You can’t blame the friends who’ve invited you, people don’t get it, and you can’t expect them to know.
Friends sending you constant photo’s of little Jonny’s new outfit, first step etc gets ignored and one begins to just want to stay home, avoid all social contact, cause at the moment, no matter what you do, there is a happy, smiley baby couple.
Last Sunday the pain got so bad, just had enough, I turned to the bottle and drank myself into a complete state of black out. Really not the best option when trying to fall pregnant, but the loss, lonliness, longing just took over.
Guess there is a lot of acceptance to be learnt and one has to get out of bed everyday . . . some days are easier than others!
So post operation, I felt super confident, positive and glad to find out something was wrong that could be fixed. I guess perhaps I expected results too soon, on month 4 of clomid . . . here’s hoping for a positive scan tomorrow!
So I was devastated at receiving not even a personal e-mail from my doctor to explain why she was no longer working there. It’s such a personal journey and you’re left feeling like, now what?
I decided not to judge, as I didn’t know what was going on in her life, we all have our “stuff”.
Having chatted to some friends who had recently had babies through means of fertility treatments, I was recommended a really great hospital and I found an awesome, compassionate doctor.
His first advice was, if we don’t know what’s happening inside you, it’s difficult to know what our steps should be. So he suggested a laparoscopy, a tiny scope they put through your belly button to see if everything is working inside and a Hysteroscopy.
“What is diagnostic hysteroscopy?
Diagnostic hysteroscopy is used to diagnose problems of the uterus. Diagnostic hysteroscopy is also used to confirm results of other tests, such as hysterosalpingography (HSG). HSG is an X-ray dye test used to check the uterus and fallopian tubes.” Read more here.
The lead up to this event was not fun, and definitely not fun for my husband. The not knowing, the waiting and the fear of ‘what if” drives you crazy. I became a little edgy and snappy and more and more scared the closer we got to operation day. I couldn’t focus on anything, always having the operation in the back of my mind.
But before I new it I was lying on the operating bed, I could feel the surge of anesthetic racing, hot through my body, and quickly I was asleep.
Waking up groggy, it was so great to see my husband – but we had to wait a little while before the doctor came, me drifting in and out of sleep. I’d been in 2 1/2 hours, so we knew there had been some operating or “fixing” involved.
Turns out both my tubes were blocked. My doctor had cut and opened them with metal rings. What a relief! Something was wrong, and it had been fixed … it was positive news indeed!
It was almost 2 years before we went to see a fertility specialist. I think I may have been in slight denial. Nothing was “wrong with me?”, I was still young and I guess terrified at the prospect of finding out I couldn’t have children.
It was after seeing my gynae for a routine visit that we spoke about it and the decision was made. He said at the age of 30 if I had come to him and said I want to start trying for a baby, he’d have given me some folic acid and said go for it.
But after having tried for 2 years already, regardless of my age, he said it would be wise to see a specialist.
Off I went to see a doctor and she explained the different processes. Feeling positive that I had all these steps ahead of me, I eagerly started my first round of clomid. Clomid is the hormones you take on day 4 to day 8 of your cycle. On day 11 a scan is performed to see the progress of your follicle/s and to access when you should have intercourse.
To cut a long story short, we did 5 rounds of the clomid, giving month 6 a break over the Christmas holidays, after all, just relaxing and not thinking about it might result in a pregnancy.
After another disappointment, we returned from holiday and I mailed my doctor to set up my next appointment.
Automated E-mail reply: As from 1 January 2012 I no longer work here!
As the months went by, slowly close friends and sister in laws started falling pregnant. That first, “I’m pregnant” is like a horrible sinking feeling. When you’re not prepared for it, the flood gates can be opened in a second. It’s a frustrating time as you’re so happy and really want to be happy for them, but you can’t help feel a massive sense of loss, jealousy, sadness, deflation.
And soon Facebook is flooded with scan photos, bare pregnant bellies and announcements. Everyone around you is pregnant and you can’t escape it. it’s like rubbing salt into your wounds. You’re on edge just waiting for the next announcement. Home alone, the tears and anger turn to sobbing and fighting off the urge to throw your beautiful wedding china against the wall.
What you do have to hold onto, are those around you going through the same thing. It’s such a great outlet to talk to someone going through the same thing, it’s like anything in life, cancer, bi-polar etc . . .
Until they fall pregnant. It’s like a double loss. That person you could vent with, cry with or just have know what you’re dealing with is gone. Once their baby arrives, your chats are over and it’s like you’re forgotten, as they too join the Facebook “look at Jonny smile, fart, hiccup” parade.
This blog has been a long time coming, it’s been on the back of my mind for a long time now, and after a grueling hour long therapy session focused on accepting and letting go, I’ve decided it’s time! It’s part selfish, an outlet for my anger, pain and frustration, and part reaching out to those in a similar situation, infertility.
Almost 4 years ago I decided, naively at 27/28 years old that I was ready to have a baby. I was as excited about it as I was getting married a year before. What are we waiting for, lets do it!
At first in confidence I spoke about “our” readiness like our baby was to appear any day now. Planning how to have a baby in a small flat and wondering how many weddings I’d have to endure, sober. But the weddings came and went, and so did the months, and I grew quieter . .