My babies...

• You would have been about 7ib 4oz.
• You would have been quite dinky.
• You would have had a BIG big toe just like your Mum, uncles, grandpa and great grandma in Ireland.
• You would have been loud like your Mum.
• You would have had your Dad's nose and nice ears.
• You would have had blue, blue eyes like the ocean like your Dad.
• You would have crossed your legs and rubbed your feet together like your Dad, uncles, cousins, grandma and grandpa.
• Like your Mum - you would have had a head full of hair. Despite years of saying 'when I have my ginger baby,' you decided to stick two fingers up to the 'strawberry blond' gene that lurks in the background of your strong Irish heritage. Your hair would have been so dark it was almost black.
• You wouldn't have been born with height on your side but as the saying goes the best things come in small packages. 
• You would have been born bang on time - just when your Mum was expecting you. No sooner, no later.
• You would have been the most gorgeous, most perfect, most wanted baby in the world and you would have been loved so, so much.

How you were born is of no consequence. After years and years of trying to make you, your entry into the world is really of no importance. Gone are the days of visualising a homebirth with a private midwife in an all singing, all dancing birthing pool in my tiny front room. No need for hypnobirthing, trippy chilled out music with ambient lighting or a supportive husband tending to my back with a tens machine. Bring on the pain as with every painful contraction it means I'm getting closer to meeting you. Give me a back-to-back labour that is excruciatingly painful that lasts for days on end, give me an epidural, give me a rushed delivery in the car on route to the hospital, give me an emergency c-section - give me a birth - just give me any birth.

I don't know if you would have been a boy or a girl. I've lost you twice now so either or. Your sex is not important. I say both versions of your name in my head. I've tried to guard your names over the years, but as the years trundle on, more and more friends and acquaintances have their babies and they have your names. Sometimes your name changes in my quest to have a baby with a unique name. After 8 years of trying for you, I realise this is a fruitless exercise. When one day you do (hopefully) arrive I'll name you what I want. No one has a monopoly on names. And if anyone accuses me of 'copying your name' I'll tell them I've had your name on my list for years. When I dream of you sometimes you're a girl, sometimes you're a boy. All you need to know is that you were so, so wanted.

You would have been a Crystal Palace FC fan whether you wanted to be one or not! Like your cousins, you would have had your very own kit with your name on the back.

You would have been the baby of the bunch. The runt of the litter. Surrounded by a crew of mad giggling aunties who were all so excited to have welcomed you to our motley crew. Your fairy godmother would have been your Mum's pregnancy oracle. She knows every detail of how you were made and your journey here. She would have dropped everything for your arrival and she would have loved you so, so much. The Little Miss of Ibiza would have you by the hand the moment you could walk and you would look at her with wonder as the crazy, adorable little nutter that she is showed you the ropes. You'd get muddy with The Dude as he showed you where all the dinosaurs are in Crystal Palace park, and you can guarantee your Aunty Wes would have bought you a copy of 'Calm Down Boris' before your arrival. You would have had the biggest crew of ready made little mates who had your back.

But none of this has happened.
All of this is in my imagination.
I don't know if I'll ever meet you in person.
Even with the Wizard of Harley Street on my team, you are yet to become a reality.
Years of healthy living, years of tweaking diets, years of hope, years of sadness.

People's words of 'congratulations on reaching the first hurdle' are playing over and over in my head. Unless you have travelled the journey I have you'd realise that is a platitude that a fertile person should never say to an infertile when they excitedly tell you 'I'm pregnant.' It's closer to the tenth hurdle of that round of IVF. To get a BFP is THE DREAM. To have that BFP turn to miscarriage is the nightmare. For it to happen twice is the nightmare on Groundhog Day. For it to happen after 5 rounds of IVF is cruel. For it to happen when you have no embryos left in the freezer signals the end of the dream. It means despair. It means I have to find strength to get back up again and try and get past what must be the one-hundredth hurdle - not the first. The first hurdle is making enough good quality eggs my love but in your naivety how are you supposed to know that? In your mind it is the first hurdle. In my mind a BFP is a massive achievement and marks progress and hope that the impossible is possible.

When an infertile woman gets her BFP everything above happens in an instant. A millisecond. No amount of your caution or warnings of not to get excited will stop that from happening. If I ever get a BFP again my excitement will return. As will my fear. When your friend who has struggled for years to get a BFP finally gets one be excited for her. Keep your caution to yourself. She's petrified enough and needs all the hope and positivity she can muster. Her entire journey to get to being 7 weeks and 3 days pregnant has taken 8 years, 4 of which include fertility treatment. For this entire time she's been scared but has done everything in her power to be positive. She really doesn't need anymore caution or fear - she has enough of her own to go round. She is so in-tune with her body she Googles every single twinge. And when the blood appears on her liner after a breathtaking cramp on the train to work (that she tried to convince herself was stretching ligaments), the blood drains from her face, she goes dizzy and she has to grab the wall to steady herself. Her mind races. She needs to get home. What does she say at work? She needs her baby to stay. Someone make the inevitable stop. She knows pain that you have not one iota of what that feels like (and she doesn't want you to feel her pain. No one should ever have to feel her pain or deal with society's discrimination and judgement against childless women). Just be there to pick her up if it all crumbles. She can't get all of the 'told you so's' out of her head. Yes, you were right not to get excited - happy now?

It's 10:27am on 6 April 2016. Exactly a week ago today I was on day 4 of my new job. Preparing to rush home and 'rest' as you'd just signalled that my dream yet again might be disappearing. I left at 10:55am, I was home by 12:10pm and I was covered in blood. Saturated. Your Dad opened the door to find me crying, desperatly trying to hide the blood with my coat, I was finally home and I could crumble, peel my saturated clothes off and get to the loo and let nature do her worst. I thought you might be taking me with you there was so much blood (part of me wishes you had). There was no warning. In the morning you were with me, in the afternoon, you were gone. I was left bereft, in pain, bleeding heavily (little did I know the bleeding and pain was set to ramp up a gear over the next few days. The bleeding still hasn't stopped.) A week ago I was full of panic and fear and yet I was also calm - I knew what was coming but I didn't know what to do with myself. And I still don't know what to do with myself. 

I just want you back.

The second time round you made your presence felt immediately. I was certain I was pregnant before test day - I didn't need a blood test to tell me that I had a baby on board. The highway of veins that exploded over my body a week after transfer were evidence enough for me. Bring back my ferocious temper that scared your Dad, what I would give to spit a sip of wine out as it tastes of vinegar, or to have a mouth that tasted like I'd been sucking on coppers. As for peeing - that's when I knew you had really left me - the last time I was up to pee in the night was 8 nights ago. 

I diligently jabbed myself every morning with progesterone and blood thinners, I took metformin first thing to keep my blood sugars low (and I hate metformin but will take it every day of my life if it means I get to meet you one day), the steroids came after breakfast to stop my body rejecting you (fat load of good they did), oestrogen followed and daily progesterone pessaries were added to the mix just to be sure.  

Out of all the would-be Mum and Dads past and present, I know no one who wanted you more than your Mum and Dad. We are more than ready to be your Mum and Dad. We've wanted you longer than some of our friends with children have even known each other. I don't want or care about anything else. And yet here I am, 8 years on since your Dad and I started trying to make you and we are back at square one with our savings diminished. Time has stopped. How could you leave me so abruptly and violently? I'm searching for answers to questions that I'll never find. And the only explanation is that it's down to me. I did everything in my power to make you and keep you, but for some reason, you couldn't stay.

What now? What is your Mum supposed to do now? How can she ever be happy if you're not here?

• She'll take Dong Quai and Shatavari to try and dampen her immune response.
• She'll introduce fresh ginger and organic apple cider vinegar into her daily routine.
• She'll go and get a Mayan Abdominal Massage to try and get her womb to tilt the right way - that must be the reason you couldn't stay? You just weren't comfortable. 
• She'll go to acupuncture, meditate and become a yogi master.
• She'll continue to be the IVF oracle and she'll battle down the painful tears when more pregnancy and birth announcements are made.
• She'll hate herself for being jealous.
• She'll hate herself, even more, when friends get their BFP (no matter how hard fought their battle is) and all she can think is that it should be her and not them as she's tried harder for years. She's done EVERYTHING but they drank and smoked and got wasted - why them and not her? It doesn't mean she isn't happy for you when you tell her, it doesn't mean she wants to be excluded, it doesn't mean she'll steal the baby when s/he arrives, it just means that you have achieved the one thing that she wants and with relative ease in comparison to her battle and she finds that so hard to deal with. Be gentle with your friend. She loves you and she really is very happy for you, but her pain squashes your joy. Give her time.
• She'll scream it's not fair.
• She'll feel guilty.
• She'll cry daily for you.
• She'll start running again.
• She'll rant on this blog intermittently.
• She'll pretend to be happy.
• She'll throw herself into work so she can save to try and make you again.
• She'll repeat the cycle again and again and again.
• She'll do whatever it takes. Whatever it takes to make her husband a Dad. Whatever it takes to take his pain away.
• She'll tolerate people's well-meant advice and she'll try oh so hard not to scream F**K OFF to all the well-meant platitudes. 
• She's somehow going to get through 15 June and 15 November. These were the dates that you were supposed to arrive.
• She's avoiding Christmas this year - like the plague. Please don't make her join in. It's suffocating and painful and she wants nothing to do with it.

Maybe not praying to St. Joseph is the reason you left me? Maybe I need to go to confession and confess all my sins so I am forgiven? Maybe then I'll stop being punished and maybe then one day I'll meet you? Maybe I should be on my knees? 

But you see I am on knees. I've been on my knees for years. I'll do whatever it takes.

I'm sorry I couldn't look after you for 9 months.

Mummy is sorry x

La La Land...

I wish I was rubbish with dates.

This time last year I was one day post embryo transfer and convinced my mini-me was going to stick - on the same day in 2014 one of girlfriends has given birth to a beautiful baby girl and I'm ok with that. In fact I'm really happy. That's the difference a year makes, I've learnt how to focus on the here and now after spending a lot of money on counselling, acupuncture and holidays!

Sometimes I wish I could jump into La La land and forget the past year. I have been up and down this week, repeating silently in my head: 'I just need to get passed 12 February and I'll be fine.' I started off really low - I heard on Sunday that someone I know had a failed cycle and it made me cry really hard. Hearing about that just as I'm gearing myself up to deal with our anniversary of a failed cycle was tough - those emotions came flooding back - the heavy sick feeling and heartache. But the infertile learns to live with this. I know so many people dealing with infertility that you just have to 'man-up' and get on with it. In some warped way I wouldn't change a thing of the past 12 months; I much prefer the  2014 Jojo than the Jojo of 2012/2013.

• I'm calm - really calm.
• I'm positive about the future as I know that both my Hubster and I are the healthiest we've ever been.
• I'm a massive fan of green smoothies (more about that in my next blog).
• I'm focused - I know what I want and I'm going to do everything in my power to get it.
• I don't accept nonsense anymore - if you wanna see me, come see me. If you wanna talk, call me, engage with me, interact with me but please don't keep thinking this one-sided relationship is going to continue. You need to make an effort but I'm not going to be the one to make the first move all the time. It means I'm starting to lose contact with people, people I love but that's the way it is. If friends and family are reading this and you're thinking 'poop, she's talking about me' then you're probably right! I'm not cross with you, I miss you but I want you to make an effort for me, I'm focused on my little unit - this is where my energy is. I don't have the cash to spend on train tickets to visit - sorry about that. I would love you to call me or even send me a text :)
• And I'm excited as (gulp) - we're starting all over again - this is why I only have time for my immediate environment. I want to go to Ireland to visit family and see my Grandma but I can't afford it - I hope you understand Grandma? I want more than anything to see you, really I do so you make sure you hang around so when we do have the cash we can come and visit. One day I hope to put a great grandchild in your arms.

Forwards we go. We've been saving like lunatics to make it happen. A lot of people begrudge paying for IVF. My Dad nearly had a coronary when I told him we'll need about £8k in total for this round of treatment - but what cost do you put on the creation of life? And not just any life but my very own mini-me? We were lucky to get treatment on the NHS but now it is our turn to invest and we are going to pay for the best treatment there is available to us.

Sometimes I amaze myself at my resilience (most people will say I'm just stubborn). A couple of weeks ago I overcame a massive mental hurdle: I attended not one but two babyshowers in as many weeks - now that is what I call a challenge for the average infertile. What I have discovered is that my issue with babyshowers was all in my head, they're not THAT bad if you have the right friends. My Bessie had her babyshower in June last year - a few weeks after our FET cycle didn't work. I was in a right old flap about her baby shower. Most people who I spoke to about it told me not to worry and not to put myself through it, one person asked if I 'was able to be happy for my Bessie and just go - to put my own feelings aside for one afternoon?!' I know what was meant by imparting this advice, but it was my friends (and my own) happiness that I was in knots about. Maybe you have to have gone through pregnancy loss, or several IVF rounds to understand that this was about anything but not being happy for my Bessie, it was about dealing with grief and not wanting my grief to ruin a happy occasion. The most understanding person was my Bessie. Of course she was - that's why she's my Bessie! Cooing over baby things so close to a failed IVF cycle would have been horrific and I just couldn't face it so I did the right thing for me and hung out with my baby bro for the day instead. That was the right thing to do for all of us.

The birth of my Bessie's 'Little Buddha' was by far the most amazing thing to happen in 2013. I adore her, she is the most chilled out, alert, happy, smiley baby who loves her grub and knows who her Auntie Jojo is (as you can imagine - this really makes me smile - my heart could burst for the amount of love I have for my Bessie's baby girl)! She's six months old now and into everything, she will be walking by the time she turns one - she just wants to be in the midst of it all. I love hanging out with my Bessie and her mini-me, it is in fact my most favourite thing to do and I love playing with Little Buddha - she rocks my world and I think I might rock hers too.

The babies we had the showers for a couple of weeks ago are both here now - two gorgeous little baby girls. One arrived today, yet to be named. The other arrived a little earlier than expected but she is just perfect. It was the first babyshower that was the hardest - I cried before I went, Facetimed my Bessie looking like a bright red snotty mess, she stopped me crying, we had a chat, I considered not going but I sucked it up as I knew if I didn't go to that one I'd never go to another babyshower ever again. It was fine as my friends and her other friends are totes amazeballs. There was none of the usual girly-girls going mental over bibs, it was a group of women, hanging out over afternoon tea, some drinking wine, some sticking to tea, A LOT of cake and a lot of chatter and laughs - oh and we all gave the mum-to-be some gifts for her baby - nothing wrong with that, it was a lovely afternoon. 

Now when I  look at the gorgeous little faces of these two brand new beautiful baby girls and see how perfect they are (and unlike most people I don't think they look like Winston Churchill), I can see their parents features even when they are brand spanking new and I am filled with happiness. That's the difference a year makes. I invested in my emotions and I don't crumble when I see a new born. I did however cry today when I first saw 'yet to be named' daughter of one of my bestest girlfriends. Tears of joy and a very strong gut feeling that it will be me soon, sending my friends photos on whatsapp. It's an amazing thing and I am in awe of women - we are by the far the stronger sex! 

So after a attempting to distract myself by getting rather hammered with work colleagues a couple of weeks ago in-between babyshowers, hearing news of more IVF grief, dealing with my fist IVF anniversary and gearing up for 11 February which will be a year to the day when I knew in my gut that my mini-me hadn't stuck I'm actually pretty bloody good. Our consultation at The Lister is booked in, the Hubster and I have been on a tough journey but we are the So Solid Crew - tough, determined, solid, strong, optimistic and gosh - am I allowed to say it?

We're happy (if a little scared of what the future may hold).

We just need to focus on the here and now and what will be, will be. Take me to La La Land if you want but I think I'd rather be right where I am.

Laters x

Where's your head at?

Well I'm back, after a six week break from blogging; not only are the Hubster and I back on the quest to make a mini-me, but I feel like my head is almost back in the room (but even I'm the first to admit I have my moments - this week was challenging to say the least. I blame the crazy Libra full-moon for some strange goings-on but not everyone agrees with my belief that the moon can do strange things to people).

Pregnancy loss is not nice; not having something tangible to grieve over means that some people think you recover quickly and also find it hard to fully understand what you're feeling. What's more after embryo transfer you are considered PREGNANT UNTIL PROVEN OTHERWISE (PUPO). You have a personal responsibility to treat your blastocyst as an implanted, developing embryo - you have a responsibility to behave like you're pregnant and this isn't an issue as you want it so much. What is shockingly hard is coming to terms with is NOT being pregnant. 

I've been devouring a great book called Navigating the Land of IF (IF is the online acronym for infertility - infertility is full of acronyms - it takes a while to learn them all) by Melissa Ford. The way she writes really appeals to me; she says it how it is and I think this is a vital read for all of you who have found yourself on the Land of IF and if you have friends who are going through it then I also recommend you have a read - you'll soon discover those tit-bits of advice you give with good intentions normally have the opposite affect. EG: saying "I can feel it in my bones, this cycle is going to work for you" doesn't help - all we can do is hope, how your bones feel has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not I'll conceive (and how were your bones feeling during my failed cycle? Could you feel my cycle not working then or did your bones give off the wrong signal? You can see the futility of such a comment now I bet?) Anyhow - she describes exactly how invested a couple are in IVF, both emotionally and financially - so much so that I want to show you an excerpt from her book where she explains the financial point to non-iffers (non-iffers are those of you who are fertile and live on the mainland). I think the financial point also illustrates quite clearly the emotional investment as well:

What if, during your eighth month of pregnancy, you were told by your obstetrician that in order to get the baby out, you would have to shell out the equivalent of a year of college tuition?

"But I thought I'd have eighteen years to save!" you'd exclaim, staring down at your belly, where the child you've been dreaming about for the last eight months waited.

Alas, you need to cough up the cash ... immediately.

You somehow gather together and fork over the money, but your doctor stares at the wad of cash and says, "Sorry. I guess I wasn't clear. This money is just for me to think about it. You'll need to come up with double this to get me to  actually do anything."

Once again, committed to having a child, you pull together the money ... only to discover that there are more hoops, more bills - and not one of the payments you make will result in the absolute promise of a live child

By the time you're ready to enter treatments or adoption, you - like those already expecting - are committed to the idea of parenthood. It's a strong impulse to procreate and/or raise children. Either you have that impulse or you don't, and if you have it, it is not something you can talk yourself out of or fulfill with a puppy.

Melissa Ford, Navigating the land of IF - Understanding Infertility and exploring your options, pg 26, Seal press, California, 2009.

So while many of my friends who have found themselves pregnant are twitchy and panicky during their first trimester and wondering what the hell they have gotten themselves into - are they ready to be parents? Their age says they bloody well should be but they didn't expect it to be that easy... Coming to terms with the new life that is growing inside of them I don't doubt is a head fu*k, of course it is, but us Iffers are already one step ahead of them emotionally - we're ready to be parents NOW, it just so happens that it isn't that easy for us. So being PUPO then finding out that you're not pregnant is like being sucker punched, winded, broken... The urge to become a Mum is so strong in me, that despite not really feeling ready to start all over again, my heart is over-ruling my head and I am back with both feet firmly in the IVF process - this time with Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET), although this time I'm not excited: I'm wary, apprehensive, cautious and overall I'm scared. Scared of my heart shattering again, but the Hubster and I want more than anything to be pregnant, IVF is not for the feint hearted. I've heard that after a failed cycle you're never truly ready for the next one - you just get on with it - it's all to do with the strong impulse to be a parent.

It seems like a lifetime ago that I was howling, I entered a very dark place, so dark in fact that rather than wait for my one counselling session provided by the NHS (which I am still waiting for) I took matters into my own hands and am now paying to see a "head doctor." My head doctor - Elise is registered with the British Infertility and Counselling Association (BICA) - this is why I chose her. During my dark place (which I still have half a foot in) I started to have panic attacks, I've managed to reign most of them in with controlled breathing and just stopping whatever it is that I'm doing and having some rescue remedy  but anything can set me off: not being able to find my keys in the morning, going to a party where I'll need to speak to people who will ask me "what've you been up to Jojo?" As you might've guessed I'm quite an open person, I'm also a shocking liar so any attempt at telling a fib and I go a particular shade of crimson and get the sweats... I also can't bear not being in control, I hate not knowing what I am doing when and what is expected of me, it makes me feel uneasy - I've always been like this to some extent, I'm just a little worse nowadays - I find this very disconcerting. I've always known I'm a control freak when it comes to certain things but our recent IVF loss has exacerbated my typical feelings of insecurity. Normally I can reign these feelings in but even telling you all about this anxiety is making my heart rate increase, I then internally chastise myself for being silly and then of course - the anxiety gets worse - it's a vicious circle so you can understand why I had to do something about these feelings hey?

Gone is the vivacious, chatty, confident Jojo of old, replace her with a timid, tongue tied, hand twisting angry little girl. That's what our failed IVF cycle did to my head. At a very good friend's birthday party less than two weeks since it all went wrong a well meaning friend who has a wonderful little boy as a result of IVF insisted on talking to me about IVF, and she just wouldn't shut up. She was like a wood-pecker who kept peck, peck, pecking. Despite telling her three times to stop and my wonderful sister-in-law telling her to stop she just wouldn't let it go until on the third time I told her I was visibly in pain and on the verge of tears. Apparently I need to go to Spain as the clinics are sh*t here - no they're not, they're amazing and they've already made us five mini-mes, one of them just didn't fancy sticking. I was a mixture of angry, intimidated, shy and all I wanted was to say beam me up Scotty and to find myself in my PJs, tucked up nice and safely in bed. Instead I found myself sobbing in the loo feeling too timid to come out and have fun. Party animal Jojo was no more, I just wanted to curl up and cry - someone who has been through IVF should know full well that your first public outing after a failed cycle is quite a big deal and one where compassion and love is needed; it's not an opportunity to dissect your failed cycle.

So, I've taken back some control and I'm getting some help dealing with how I feel - I've worked out the hard way that infertility is a tough island to find yourself on, I knew it was a tough place to be before I landed on the island of IF, but I never really understood what it was like. Everything is out of your control and for a control freak it's a rather tricky thing to get your head around. So I'm taking control of my emotions by going to counselling. Being in control is something that is central to my feeling ok - my counsellor and I have worked this out together quite quickly so she's helping me control my emotions and to find an outlet for them. Sudden bursts of anger and frustration can hit me without any warning and some things really annoy me (more than usual) - I'm working on managing these outbursts! She's also advised me to take control of aspects of my life that are 100% in my hands and the main thing that has been a source of stress is debt and my finances.

I'm taking control of my finances by clearing my debt and I'm a heartbeat from being debt free for the first time in my adult life. I can't tell you how amazing that feels; debt is BAD for the soul and it really annoys me how socially acceptable it is nowadays to be up to your eyeballs in debt, we all blame the bankers for the state of the economy but is it the bankers' fault that a lot of us have whacking great big overdrafts and several credit cards maxed out? No it's our own greed and inability to budget and save - it's not big and it's not clever, in fact it's stupid. I know the economy is up the creak without a paddle but it's about time we all started to take responsibility for our situations and take control of our expenditure, if you spent the money then it's your own fault (it took me a good while to learn that - in fact it's taken the majority of my adult life to work that conundrum out). I hate seeing all of my salary go on paying back creditors and I can't wait for when it's all gone (nearly there - the last student loan payment has been paid - now to clear the teeny-weeny bit that is left, then I'll be free and in a position to save for things rather than saying "sod it, I'll whack it on my credit card.") If you're in debt then my best piece of advice to you is to sacrifice and get yourself out of it, that £3000 overdraft you have ain't gonna clear itself and the dreaded bank could withdraw it without any warning. Knowing that I've finally cleared 99% of my debt is liberating. This is one of the main benefits of making yourself fertile (other than making a baby of course), you actually realise how much money you wasted on nights out that you can't fully remember; you no longer feel crap for the first half of the week only to get clubbers' lurgy for the second half. Feeling healthy and taking control of my finances is one thing I'm sticking to, I feel great (and people I haven't seen in a while are commenting on how well I look - fancy that?!) 

I want to be able to cope, be chilled, I don't want to be angry, I want to be pregnant and my hope is starting to come back. I want to be in control of what I can control and I'm starting to except that there are certain things I can't control, such as whether my two defrosted mini-mes are going to a) survive defrosting and b) whether they'll implant. No one can control that - not even the clever doctors and scientists, I just need to continue doing what I'm doing and looking after myself and hope for the best. As that's the best my wonderful Hubster and I can do is hope. We're getting there slowly.

I still have my moments however, certain things wind me up more than ever:

Anger towards our funding: this quite upset and shocked me - another Iffer who paid for her treatment who (as Melissa Ford would describe it) has left the island of IF and has joined the mainlanders after a successful first cycle that resulted in twins. Upon telling her that our funding covered medicated FET she unleashed a wrath of anger in a text that I wasn't ready for, that the NHS "took all her money." REALLY?!?! I have never known for the NHS to forcibly take money from us - we pay our taxes and when we're poorly we go and get treated be that at the doctors or hospital - most of the time for free. Yes, sometimes (unfortunately and often unfairly) some people don't qualify for free fertility treatment but the NHS doesn't take your money to pay for it, you opt to pay for your treatment, that is your choice. I will save and pay for whatever treatment the Hubster and I require once our funding has been depleted; I feel lucky to have funding but don't begrudge me for getting treatment when you have what you want - your babies (and you didn't have to experience what IVF loss is like - you're VERY lucky). I'd cough all the money up and some this very instant if I was guaranteed a baby at the end of it but as the excerpt above states, money / no money / emotional investment etc - there are no guarantees when it comes to IVF and I tell you what, whether you pay for your treatment or are lucky enough to receive funding - it doesn't make the pain easier to handle if your cycle doesn't work - I would never wish that pain on anyone. What REALLY annoyed me about this anger was if this person actually qualified for funding, neither her or her other half would've been able to quit smoking (a prerequisite of IVF treatment on the NHS and rightly so), their cycle worked first time and no real effort to stop smoking was made once pregnancy was achieved ... Why exactly should the NHS fund such treatment if you're not going to jump through the required hoops to get free treatment when there are others who remain infertile despite treating their bodies like temples? GRRRRRR!

Another thing that riles me right up is people that say: "you're so lucky you don't have kids." If you think this stupid bloody comment is supposed to make me feel better then you really are a dumb-ass. Lucky?! REALLY? Check page 96 of Melissa Ford's response to such nonsense - if anyone says this to me then they can expect to be on the receiving end of a hard punch to the face! I also hate it when people whine about losing their evenings as they have kids to feed and put to bed, and then work to do due to their job (which they're probably moaning about as well as it doesn't pay enough and they have to work too many hours) - that was your life choice so why don't you just shut up or take responsibility for your situation and change it?

So - as you can see, my tolerance levels aren't what they used to be! I still have my moments of anger but I do feel the anger I have is justified - I just prefer the happy me and not the angry me. I've started running again which is really helping me sort this out (as well as seeing Elise), I've also started making bread! Odd I know but I'm quite obsessed about it now - it's very satisfying so I strongly recommend you go out and buy a bread maker!

What's next then: I've started the first phase of down regulation so I'm on microgynon again. Those of you who have been following my blog will know that I seriously hate being on this pill, it does funny things to me. Then as with my last cycle I start the down regulation jabs - oh boy - I can't wait for those fun and games to start again but at least I know what to expect this time round. Once I've shut down I then start on estrogen as opposed to the gonal-f stimulation drugs - I'm quite pleased about this, the thought of getting OHSS again is horrid. The estrogen is to make sure my womb lining thickens nicely so I should quite like that feeling I imagine, then our two best surviving mini-mes are defrosted - these are 4BBs (see my previous post on grading embryos for an explanation), hopefully they'll both survive, be transferred and you never know - they both might implant (but I'm not going to make the mistake I made last time round and start thinking I'm pregnant with twins - trust me, I've learnt my lesson this time round).

So, after a long blogging break I'm back with a vengeance. To help keep me sane I repeat the lyrics of Basement Jaxx's Where's your Head at? One of my all time favourite tunes - why don't you have a listen?

Catch ya later :) x

What a difference a week makes

It's a week since I first realised that our first IVF cycle had ended with a nasty, heavy, heartbreaking period. In retrospect, not having the opportunity to use one of the eight pregnancy tests I'd bought compounded my woe. Life just isn't fair: FACT.

BUT there is a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

I won't lie, last week was hell on earth, I have no idea how I would've gotten through it if it wasn't for my wonderful Hubster. He really is my rock. I pretty much lost the power of speech and found myself only being able to speak to him or my bessie Emma. My bessie is expecting her first baby, we were all 200% convinced that our IVF cycle was going to work as I'm so healthy and our issues are with the Hubster; my bessie and I were soooooo excited about having our babies together and going on maternity leave together. I guess it just wasn't meant to be this time round.

My other wonderful friends have been persisting with the missed phonecalls and texts, I just haven't had the strength to speak to them. Texting, emailing even blogging are easier than actually speaking about it. Today is the first day since it happened that I haven't woken up with the choking, heavy hearted, suffocating feeling, and I finally felt strong enough to go back to work.

I am feeling angry though.

Very angry.

I'm angry at myself for truly believing I was pregnant when I obviously wasn't. I'm angry at myself for not listening to words of advice from friends who have also experienced IVF loss: the drugs screw with your body more than you realise. I'm angry at the doctor who pulled rank and did the transfer with the new, softer catheter - if the lovely Indian lady doctor had done the transfer as planned would my mini-me now be a permanent fixture? Who knows but what I do know is that this anger isn't going to do me any good so I'm dealing with it - anger turns to hate and I don't want to hate.

I've received so many lovely kind messages from all of my friends and I'm really glad that they weren't the type of messages that I didn't want to hear - apart from one. A friend who I had started to drift apart from replied to a text I sent the weekend prior to us finding out the IVF hadn't worked. I told her about my heartbreak and sorrow (it was very, very raw for me last Wednesday), given how I felt her response knocked me for six (and I'm still reeling from it). Having spent the day howling and knicker checking, feebly trying to cling on to my PMA - getting a message that said I shouldn't let it rip me apart, I need to chin up, this could take years and I should take up yoga and have a hot bath did not help. I'm not sure what she was thinking when she sent that message but there was zero empathy in that message, zero understanding about what grief is; in my opinion it's an illustration of why we have drifted apart as friends. How anyone can think that telling your (apparent) friend in her time of sorrow and heartbreak to chin-up, this might take years would be of any comfort is beyond me? Think it by all means but have the tact not to actually say it. Her response baffled me and I still can't work it out. IVF is much, much more than a few injections - it is a process where you put all of your eggs in one basket and when it fails, you can feel the hope being ripped out of you, and the pain is horrid. 

So - what next?

I went back to work today and my lovely colleagues kept me well stocked in tea, chocolate and giggles - just what the doctor ordered. Yesterday was the first day since it happened that I didn't cry, I did cry today - but only briefly. I'm starting to feel strong enough to face the world again and to contemplate what my Hubster and I will do next with regards to making a mini-me... Obviously we will try the traditional method :) We're both so healthy at the moment the Hubster's super swimmers may find their way to one of my eggs all by themselves - wouldn't that be amaze balls?!?! I'm back on the agnus castus to help encourage ovulation and to help get myself back on track asap - a batch of 30 pee sticks are winging their way to me so I'm ready and waiting to get tracking my cycle again. I'm going to throw myself into the gym - having stopped running to help with fertility issues two years ago I've decided that I need to start running again, it makes me feel amazing and I need all the endorphins I can get my hands on.

Our follow up is 14 March - I'm writing my questions down so I can make sure I know what we can do for our frozen embryo transfer (FET) cycle. I think this will be natural with a only a few HCG shots and progesterone pessaries so I guess it will be easier for us to handle? I want to know how many embryos they defrost at once? What if all of them are defrosted, they all survive and I can only put one back in - what happens with the rest? It seems every which way you turn with IVF you have more questions, questions, questions...

Till next time you lovely lot, to all of you who have left me kind, heart warming messages - thank you. Your love is helping me heal and although I didn't think it last week - positivity is the way forward - you've all helped me remember just how strong I am. To my wonderful friend Mel in Jersey - thank you for our delicious chocolate brownies - I can't wait to give you a big fat hug when I see you next week. All of your support has been phenomenal - you've made me feel strong when I've needed it most. And to my two other friends who have also had failed cycles pretty much within a week either side of my failed cycle - keep the faith - 2013 is our year.

Catch ya later :) x