Feeling a bit silly

You know what today is?  CD 59.  It’s also my 6th day of being back on the pill.  I’m mostly ok with it.  But let me back track a bit. 

At our last WTF appointment my lovely doc had told me that he did not want me on any form of meds for 3 months – we felt that my body needed a break from artificial hormones for a while.  We agreed that whilst I needed to not be on meds, I also needed to have a regular period so if I had not had a bleed by the 28th April (CD53) I was to contact him and we would decide a way forward.

28th April dawned and still no bloody period.  So I popped my FS an email and asked him what he wanted to do.  He wanted me to go in for a scan the next day and based on that we would decide our course of action. 

I can’t tell you how weird anxious sad scared heartbroken odd I felt walking into the clinic again.  It was hectically busy and there were so many new faces.  New faces filled with hope and excitement.  While mine was set in stone.  New faces whose hearts were thumping in excited anticipation.   While mine was constricted and did not want to beat.  I was greeted by name by all the staff there and chatted a bit with some of them while waiting my turn.  A new face asked me if I was there to have my second baby cos they all knew me so well.  I said no I was still trying for my first.  She asked how long I’d been trying.  I told her 6 years.  She asked how many times I’ve done this.  I told her five.  She mumbled something and turned away from me. 

Oops I did it again, I made another one scared and nervous. *sigh*

So into the scan room I went with a thumping heart.  I don’t know why I was so scared… actually I’m fibbing.  I do know.  In the smallest region of my heart I was secretly hoping that I would be one of *those* women.  You know the ones right?  The ones who after 6 years of infertility and several failed IVF’s miraculously spontaneously fall pregnant all.on.their.own. 

I know I should have known better.  My body?  It’s not known for its regularity in ovulation.  It’s not known for its perky little 28 day cycles.  What it is known for are my over 100 day cycles and that record-breaking 198 day cycle.  It is certainly not known for its ability to miraculously fall pregnant.  But a teensy weensy part of me could not forget that we had got it on on CD15.  And that silly little teensy weensy part of me could not help but hope that I might be legend.

Clearly I should know to know better.  My FS was all excited cos he found a corpus luteum cyst and thought my period would come all on its own but just to be sure he sent me for some bloods to check my E2 and progesterone levels.  My levels were so low they were through the floor.  So even if my wonderfully PCOS body had somehow managed to create a follie and release it, my wonderfully PCOS body could not manage to keep it going.  Great. 

So here I sit dutifully popping my daily pill feeling a bit silly.  A lot dumb.  And very, very broken.  I’ve been trying so hard to get myself back into a positive frame of mind about this journey we’re on.  I’ve been immersing myself in my relationship with God (which is still tenuous at best but it’s slowly getting better) and just really trying to focus on all the good I have in my life.  I’ve been looking within and willing myself to find strength to keep believing that this can happen for us.

I think that the fact I was secretly a teensy bit hopeful at that scan shows that I *can* dredge up the strength and hope to do this again.  I think it shows that sometime in the future my fighting spirit will rise again.

But today?  Right now as my fingers fly across this keyboard?  I feel so silly and so dumb for believing.  I feel so unbelievably stupid for having believed that *my* body (whose track record has been far from sterling) could actually work.

And I would give anything for that feeling to be gone.

The Way It Goes…

Reasons why I am considering trying IVF again sometime:

• Cliff will be an amazing Dad
• To experience pregnancy
• Once pregnant I can’t wait to spend evenings with my husband feeling our child move in my tummy
• My Mom deserves to be a Granny to more than one child
• Cliff’s Mom deserves to be a Granny to HIS child
• Gummy smiles I see from my friends kids absolutely melt my heart
• My niece thinks I’d be a cool Mom and that’s gotta count for something
• To decorate a nursery
• The clothes – have you *seen* how cute they are?
• To hear my child call for me when they are sick and to know that only *I* can make it better
• The laughs and giggles that can’t get any better
• To look into my childs eyes and know that they know they are LOVED, so very, very loved
• To see my current babies (my Saff’s and Jazz) protect and guard my new baby
• To experience Mother’s Day without tears and sadness
• To experience Father’s Day without guilt and torment
• To share my love for reading with someone innocent
• Delight in my children who see the world through such unjaded eyes
• We had a chemical before – that’s got to mean that it might go all the way for us at some point right?

I could go on for ever and ever….

Reasons why I might consider stopping this madness for good:

• This hurts both of us so much in so many ways

Shattered

Oh heart of mine

You lie there shattered

With no way of being fixed

It’s been too much

Way too fast

And before I can pick up the pieces

From the previous shattering

You shatter again

Its like a rollercoaster that I can’t get off of

Be still my shattered heart

So that slowly

Slowly

You can heal

Still Alive & Sun Beauty

I’m still alive. 

I’ve been cutting myself some slack and am allowing myself to feel what I’m feeling and so far I’ve not wanted to throw myself under a bus so I think it’s working

Monday was hard for me.   I got two very unexpected pregnancy announcements that hurt my heart.  The first was from a friends Dad who caught me on FB and asked me if I had heard the great news.  My heart sank and I just knew that said friend was pregnant… with her third baby… her second baby is only 4 months old… The second one came from another friend who is pregnant with number 2.  Wonderful news except she delivered it with the missive that she wished it would have taken longer than the 2 months it did to happen and that morning sickness was a “bitch” to deal with all day every day long for 8 weeks.  *sigh*  I am happy for them, I really am, but I can’t help but wonder when (if ever) it will be my turn to have that happiness.  I ended up drinking a bottle of red wine on Monday night while watching Revolutionary Road (ps SO not the right movie to watch when you’re in an IF funk).

Other than that work has been hectic of late.  So it’s been a busy few days. 

So often on my way to or from work I see the most amazing skies.  The colours are so vibrant and it just looks so damn beautiful that I have to take a snap with my cell phone.  The pics I take never quite do the reality justice but I had to share two of my favourites from the last two weeks with you all.

Confused & Tearful

It seems that my mind is finally starting to process all that I’ve had to face in the last three months.  

We went away for the long weekend to my brother in law’s family game farm and it was just wonderful.  Awesome weather and stunning game drives and lots of “Young” family time. 

The kicker was that the setting reminded me so much of my Dad.  It was his kind of place through and through.  And my heart ached for the loss of him.  For the words unsaid to him.  For the times I snapped at him in anger that I can’t take back now.  So many regrets came to the fore.

The other kicker came in an unexpected form.  Seeing my in laws interact with my delightful nephews and seeing the love they have for their grandsons broke my splintered heart in half.  I really want to be able to share that with them.  I want to be able to give them that joy.  I want my husband’s children to be smothered with granparental love.  And it only drove home how woefully inadequate I’ve been in that department.  It sounds melodramatic but I could almost feel my womb ache with it’s emptiness.

So whilst we had a really good weekend away, I found myself at the brink of tears practically all the time.  I also started getting a scratchy throat and bad post nasal drip while we were away – I put it down to the dusty game drives. But it’s not to be.  My body is also telling me I need some me time.  Today I’m deep in the clutches of the firey scratchy “can’t swallow” throat, and the post nasal drip from hell.  My voice is on it’s way out and I can’t get myself to the doctor soon enough so she can book me off for tomorrow and I can try and get some sleep.

I called my friend last night to find out how her GIFT had gone that morning and ended up breaking down and crying with her.  She feels that I might be depressed and asked me to consider chatting to my FS about getting some anti depressants.  I’m not discounting that option at all but I just don’t feel like that’s the right thing for me.  My family has huge addictive tendancies and whilst I know that most ppl don’t get addicted to AD’s, I just can’t take that step right now.

I think that I need some time to just allow myself to feel everything that’s hitting me right now and that once I allow myself to get it all out and feel it that I’ll be able to find my way back to being “rainbow fart” Sam that I normally am.  Our blessings’s board has been fanning that flame in me and I’m really glad that we started it.

*sigh*  I don’t know, it feels like I had to hold it all together so much when my Dad died cos my Mom and sister lost it, and then there was the additional stress of the delay we had to deal with in getting him cremated and back to SA for his local memorial and our closure (even that weekend I had to keep it together cos Mom and my sister were so loskop and all over the place) and then dealing with the GIFT at the same time was too much.  (Guess in hindsight I should have delayed the treatment after all) I’ve had to work and just keep going and now.  Now my body and mind are saying “Time out girlfriend” and I have to listen.

Time to focus a bit on me and to stop worrying about everyone else’s opinions on whether I should stop or carry on trying or whatever.  Time to cry it out and to listen to what my heart and my body are telling me.  Time to learn to trust myself again.

One things for sure, this IF journey is not for sissies.

A Day Full of Ghosts

First off thank you to each and every one of you for your unfailing love and support for us at this time.  You all rock beyond any “deservedness” I might have earned to have you all in my life.  A lot of us have never met face to face (crumbs many of us don’t even live in the same country) but the love you have poured over us is just… well amazing, so thank you.

Today we as a family went to the Pilanesburg National Park to show our Dad’s mates his place.  The park is special for so many reasons but mostly because this is where Dad loved to be.  He loved to be in the bush and whilst it was good to show his friends who so kindly brought his remains home for us, his “world”, it was incredibly hard for us as family to go past all the places where Dad had made his mark.   The bar at the Manyane Gate where he so often sat drinking brandy and coke, the dam where he shat all over a Spaniard who thought it was cool to feed wild hippo’s some of her bread, the hotels where he came often to visit his girls who worked there…

It was  a wonderful day and it was a hard day, full of ghosts.  All too often I would look over my shoulder and see him sitting somewhere or see his red bakkie driving along the dead beaten roads, him with a ciggie hanging from his mouth.  And a few times I swear I heard his distinct laugh today.

I did manage to take some cool photo’s while out in the middle of the bush…

And then when I got home I was greeted with the most beautiful flowers for Cliff and I from some very special friends, they truly were a beam of light in what was otherwise an odd mixture of a good day and a very difficult day…

Tomorrow we leave for the farm where we will be holding Dad’s African memorial… On one hand I cannot wait to have it over and done with so we can try to heal our hearts and move on with our lives after his death and on the other I wish I never had to even think about what I’m going to say at the river side as we scatter his ashes…  He was a good man, but trust me he had his faults.  Many of them.  I don’t want to “martyrise” him but I want do him justice.  I think that probably much like my wedding speech I’ll write my last words to him in the early hours of the morning of the important day as the sun kisses the sky…

It’s going to be a hard weekend chaps.  In many ways.  I hope I can get through it with dignity and applomb.

PS ->  How normal do Cliff and I look in this photograph taken today?  I love this man who was given to me so much… it’s so hard to believe our hearts are aching when you look at this photo – just goes to show how as people we can pretend that all is well when in fact underneath we are broken…

Tuesday is a BEEG day

02 March 2010. 

Potentially the day that could heral change in my life in a way that I cannot even begin to comprehend!

There are several reasons why this day is a BEEG day.  I think if I tried hard enough I could get each and every person reading this blog to admit to something significant happening on this day cos it sure does seem quite important from where I’m sitting…. Let me list some reasons why it’s a BEEG day:

• It’s one of my closest friend’s husband’s 41st birthday
• It’s a good friends 14 or 15 week scan day
• It’s my very close friends day of surgery to remove her polyps and to get her pregnant once and for all with her GIFT the following month
• It’s the day my bank balance moves back to practically zero as all my debit orders will have gone off my account paying my bills
• On Tuesday morning my Dad’s friend arrives with his ashes and belongings from Wales
• I do my beta

So as you can see chaps and chappettes, Tuesday is a BEEG day.  I sure hope and pray that we end up with some good news to curtail the emotion we’ll feel at finally having Dad back on African soil…

I’m heading into the weekend, with my heart hopeful yet reeling with feelings that I cannot quite pinpoint about finally getting closure on my dad’s passing…

It’s weird, but Tuesday is a BEEG day – what is special or BEEG about Tuesday for YOU??

Weird Ass Dreams!

First off – Hello to any ICLW’ers – nice to “meet ya”.  I’m busy with my 3ww after a GIFT and might come across as slightly irrational or whacko this week – forgive me I’m actually rather sane and rational most days

Right, so onto the severely weird ass dreams I’ve been having.  As much as I’ve been trying to stay calm and rational and have been trying to take the 3ww one day at a rational time, it’s clear to me that my subconscious has a completely different approach to this waiting period.  And it’s also clear to me that as much as I ‘ve been saying I’m fine and in control I’m obviously a lot more stressed than even I care to admit…

Weird ass dream number one:  This one occurred on Friday night.  I cannot completely remember how it went but I know it had something to do with walking in a forest and finding a baby hiding in a tree – when I tried to save this baby it, I don’t know “misted up” into pretty little blood droplets… Cue waking up at approx 03h30 with my heart racing…

Weird ass dream number two:  This one was naturally on Saturday night.  I remember dreaming that I had woken up in the middle of the night absolutely DESPERATE to pee.  I stumbled to the bathroom and did my thing.  When I wiped I saw (how I don’t know cos it was still dark) these long strings of french shaped lace blood globs coming out my vagina.  (sorry I know that’s a pretty grim picture) I could feel my heart skip a beat and I called to Cliff, crying that this GIFT had not worked.  He came into the bathroom and with his face a mere inch or so away from mine started screaming at me “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you” over and over until I woke up at approx 03h00 with my heart racing…

Weird ass dream number 3:  This one happened yesterday afternoon during my afternoon nap.  For some reason we were at my Aunt’s house in Durban and Cliff and I were arguing over some mundane bloody thing.  It was so mundane that I really can’t even remember what it was, I think it was over a special blanket/duvet/covering or something which he wanted to put on our bed but I would not allow him to cos it was boiling hot and it was not needed.  Somehow the argument reached a crescendo and I screamed at him “just do whatever you want” at which he sprinted up the stairs and flung himself off the balcony of my Aunt’s house… I woke up as he was just about to hit terra firma with my heart racing… 

Now I am not huge into reading too much into my dreams etc – I believe that dreams normally manifest out of your experiences that day and whilst I do remember a great deal of my dreams many people don’t.

I do however think these weird ass dreams are telling me that I need to calm myself.  I need to centre myself and I need to keep focused on the “get through each day” goal. 

Last night before I went to bed, I prayed over myself, I asked for a peaceful sleep and thankfully I got it – no weird ass dream last night… I’m hoping to keep this new no weird ass dream trend going…

One of *Those* Women

We’re expecting to start with our GIFT this week.

I’m excited at the possibility that this treatment offers us.  What if it’s the one that works?  I’m scared of the heartbreak this treatment can also offer us.  What if it’s not the one?  I just cannot bear to think of having a negative outcome for the fifth time.

I remember when we first started trying to have a baby, well more when we first started seeking treatment cos it was obvious that nothing was happening “naturally”, I remember sitting in the waiting room at a fertility clinic talking to some of the girls who were brave enough to do so and hearing some of their stories.  I remember hearing stories of great hope “my first IUI worked and I’m now here for my second child”, “I got pregnant first time with a timed cycle”, “I’m now pregnant after only a few cycles”.

But I also heard a lot of stories that struck complete and utter fear in my heart.  “I’ve been told I’ll never have my own child, my eggs are vrot”, “I’m busy with my third/fourth/fifth/sixth/seventh/eighth/ninth IVF”, “I’ve been trying for number one for 10 years with no success”, “I’ve had several miscarriages and no one can tell me why”.

Stories of hope and stories of fear and hurt and pain, I’ve heard many of both in the last six years.  But I remember my young nieve self sitting there in those early days and it shames me to admit that I used to go home and pray to God that I would not end up being one of *those* women.  The ones who had to endure years and years of this nonsense, the ones who had to do IVF after IVF after IVF.

And now six years later I’m facing big ART treatment number five.  After having gone through many a headstand after sex, many a timed cycle, many an AI and many an IUI, Chinese remedies, acupuncture, reflexology, light therapies, reiki and so on and so forth.  The list of what we’ve tried in order to have ttc succes is endless.

I AM one of *those* women.

At times I don’t know how that makes me feel.  To know that I’ve become the very thing I prayed to God I would not be.

The fear of being one of *those* women does not stay within the walls of one’s clinic though.  The fear clings to you as you walk out and real life friends feel the fear as well.  They look at you with pity in their eyes and avoid talking about their own children and pregnancies for fear that by being around you; they might also become one of *those* women.  They think it’s better to hide a pregnancy from you, they think it’s easier for you to handle if they only tell you about their pregnancies when they are 5 – 6 months into them and they cannot hide them any longer.  They tell you that they just could not bear to break your heart cos they have what you desire.  They pity you and actually say things like “I think of how we could have been like you and it scares me to death”.  It’s those actions and words that break your heart, not the fact that they have life blossoming in their bellies.  (Yes it still stings to hear a pregnancy announcement but for the record, having been on this road for six years means that I’m not going to go all banshi on your ass.  Suprisingly enough I can control my emotions, mostly cos they’ve been dulled and severed, but they are controlled.)

In many ways the last six years have taught me more than I could ever have imagined.  They have taught me empathy, strength, compassion, patience (admittedly not very well).  They’ve taught me about a community that embraces those who belong to it tightly in good times and even tighter in tough times.  They’ve taught me that I am loved in more ways than I ever knew.  They’ve taught me that whilst things have often been tough for us and infertility has been the cause of many a fight about sex and money, that I’ve been given the best partner I could ever hope for to go through this with.

I see the way the other girls at the clinic look at me now.  The newbies who’ve come to recognise my face cos I always seem to be around every few months.  They avoid me cos I am now what they fear.  I am the proof that their dreams may not quite work out the way they think they may.

I know that without a shadow of a doubt that I am well and truly one of *those* women. And today I am proud of being this woman.

What about the GIFT?

A few people have asked me what we plan to do about our upcoming GIFT in light of the recent events in my life.  

Now I’d like to ask that those of you who don’t agree with our decision, not try to convince us otherwise.  The decision of what to do is mine and Cliff’s and we’ve made the decision and we’re sticking to it come what may.  No amount of trying to convince us the other way will change our minds and all that will happen is that I’ll get upset, so please I know it will be coming from your hearts but rather bite your tongue if you feel the need to try make me change my mind.

Consensus seems to be that we should delay treatment. 

That I’m too fragile, that I’m too entrenched in my grief over my Dad’s passing, it will be too stressful doing treatment and living through the local memorial service… those are a few of the many reasons we’ve been given by others to delay.  Which honestly are all reasons that I’ve thought about long and hard.

But if I’m honest the next treatment will be stressful no matter when I do it.  I’ll still be in some stage of grief over my Dad’s passing.  My heart will still be tender and will be for years to come I think.  There are people in the world that go through treatment and deal with way worse additional stress than I’ll be under who still fall pregnant so it’s not like the added stress will have any impact on the final outcome – which is in fact already decided.  It’s either going to work or it’s not – no amount of utopia surrounding me will change that.

Cliff asked me if (it sounds nasty but was not meant this way at all) if I was emotionally stable enough to go ahead as planned.  And having thought about it I really feel like I am.  Whilst I am still sad over the loss of Dad, I am emotionally stable enough to work every day, emotionally stable enough to drive everyday so realistically I should be emotionally stable enough to stick needles into myself daily and have a date with a dildo cam every 2 days (even under normal circumstances most people would consider the process a tad weird and ironically would think me emotionally unstable to go through with it).

The thing is this. 

My Dad is gone.  His life has been lived.  And delaying my treatment will not change this ONE IOTA.  His soul will still be gone from us, and all that I’ll feel is that I lost out on the chance of my theory being proved.  I’ll feel like I’ve failed yet again in a very different way.

And I know that my Dad, who loved me so much, would not want me to delay this treatment cos of him.  I can just hear him now.  “What on earth are you thinking Dungfunnel?  You need to move forward.”  He was big on moving forward.

And so, that is what we’ve decided to do.  We will be moving forward with our February GIFT.  In an odd way, I’m hoping that my Dad has spoken with the boss man upstairs and that he’s already met the child or children we’re going to have. 

So GIFT in February it is.  I think it’s gonna be a wild one – hang on if you join me for the ride.