#notpregnantjustfat

Apologies to anyone who has been awaiting my latest update (I am sure there is at least one person out there ha!), my slacking ways have returned! A lot has happened since my last post, including the celebration of my first wedding anniversary, so that was lovely. What hasn't been so lovely are my first steps into the world of assisted fertility treatment. In the past few weeks I have had more blood drawn and doctors letters than I can ever remember. It feels good to feel like we are making a start, however I can't say that I am brimming with hope. Before I made it to my first appointment at the fertility clinic, I had to go through yet another period and it is safe to say it was the worst yet. It wasn't even anything to do with the fact that I wasn't pregnant (for once), but the excruciating agony of it. My husband and I had gone to visit my Mother and I ended up rolling around in the living room, on the floor, the sofa, on all fours, crying and at times screamin...

I would like to start this update with a HUGE thank you to both Tessa Broad and Red Door Publishing for giving me the chance to be part of the 'Dear You' virtual book tour. It was a true honour and it has given me a huge boost, both personally and also with regards to this blog. It was a wonderful thing to have been a part of and I know that Red Door took a chance on me as my blog was very new when they signed me up, so I very much appreciate the opportunity. With the warm & fuzzies over, I am going to write about a beautiful piece of advice that I took from 'Dear You' and mentioned in my review - be kind. I had actually planned to write about the issues I have taken note of during National Fertility Awareness Week, namely male infertility and its impact on those men and also the postcode lottery aspect of fertility treatment, however this week has thrown me a few curve balls, so - quite selfishly - I feel like going into them a bit more instead. Two days ago I ...

Tessa Broad's book 'Dear You - A Letter to My Unborn Children' is the eloquently written memoir of a very brave woman, who has pushed her own personal insecurities to the side to give a face - and more importantly a voice - to the anonymous masses of infertile men and women out there. The book is a letter written to Tessa's 'imaginary'  children  (over the years, I don't doubt that the love Tessa has nurtured for these children is anything but imaginary), the ones who she never got to meet due to a cruel combination of nature and circumstance. I have to admit that I only finished reading this book a few days ago, which is a long time since I first started reading it. That is absolutely not a reflection of the book's content, how it was written or anything else of the sort, quite the contrary in fact. Tessa has really poured her heart and soul into this memoir, which is why I describe her as brave - I believe that to be true of anyone who puts pe...

I am still safely in the pre-period zone and I have to confess that I am prone to the odd blank gaze brought about by my day-dreaming ways. I must also confess that my day-dreaming has at times had the potential to veer off course and in the past (anytime up until 5 minutes ago if I'm being really honest) I have found myself getting rather carried away. I have just been reminded of this as I checked my emails and I have a newsletter from a Baby Blogging/Mummy-to-be website. I'd like to say that I subscribed to this for the 'Getting Pregnant' info it offers (there isn't a lot of it that anyone TTC - that's a new acronym I learned today - hasn't already read a thousand times, it is much like the generic advice that is in every monthly women's magazine about how to get over a break-up), but that's not the truth. I subscribed during a moment of euphoric hope much like the one I am experiencing now. One where my last period and its accompanying disappoi...

hope. noun - a feeling of expectation and desire for a particular thing to happen. When struggling with anything in life, we need something to keep us going and for me and my personal struggle it is the weeks of hope that precede a period. I have noticed a pattern emerging in the times I feel compelled to sit down and spill my heart out over this blog and it has invariably been the times when I have my period, or have felt it coming on. I have realised this and think it is important to note that I do not live in a ball of depression all month long; I don't spend my days or weeks rocking back and forth in the foetal position awaiting the day that the fetus is inside of me. That is not to say that when my period goes, so does the idea of having a baby, far from it. During these weeks I can live in the blissful hope that this will be the month.  As the pains fade and the bleeding subsides (sorry for the visuals, but we all know what we're here for!), I move past the he...

Que sera, sera Whatever will be, will be The future's not ours to see Que sera, sera - Doris Day One of the hardest parts of trying (unsuccessfully) for a baby is the constant waiting, wondering, day-dreaming and second guessing. It can be extremely difficult to just 'get on' with life when baby making is always at the back of your mind. Friends and family will offer wise words of advice during times like this 'It'll happen when the time is right' or 'What's for you won't pass you' and 'Que sera sera.' These people are all well meaning and the truth is that they just don't have any more answers than you do, so they dig deep for any and all clichés that they feel may be broadly appropriate for the situation.  To be fair, I often pull out many of these phrases when I am having a word with myself in a down moment.  I always tell myself that it will happen when the time is right and I just have to be patient in the m...

Recently I have really thrown myself into the fertility fight, because I have decided that I have waited long enough. All the time I have been trying for a baby I have been very focused on the possibility of my own problems including a large ovarian cyst, PCOS (I was incorrectly diagnosed with this, but the fear that the real mistake was the doctor who told me I didn't have it still hangs over me, 'what if I am missing out on vital treatment?'), tilted uterus or something similar (nurses always struggle to find my cervix during smear tests) etc etc. What I haven't considered for more than a fleeting moment, is the possibility that the problem is not with me. It takes two people (or at least the ingredients from two people) to make a baby, so why is so much focus on the female? If I were baking a cake (I wouldn't be, I'm a fucking terrible baker!) and it came out tasting like shit, or didn't rise or...I don't know what else can go wrong with cakes becau...

So after my first few posts, I thought to myself 'I am really getting into the swing of this blogging jazz, I just need to set myself a schedule.' I didn't. I'm a born slacker. Apparently without a deadline set in stone, my brain believes a schedule to mean 'anytime but now.' I'm sure you've all been waiting with bated breath for my latest update, so here it is. I have probably gone on a bit so far about fertility issues, but I've skated around the Fatty McFatterson issue that is staring me in the face every time I look in the mirror. I keep telling myself that Jeremy Kyle types with all sorts of substance abuse issues get pregnant all day long so 'a few pounds' couldn't possibly hurt me, but the reality is that it could be. So it's time to get real and get this fat girl off her fat ass and moving (which is probably what motivated me to sit back down and start writing again...funny that).  Over the years I have found myself suffe...

OK so for anyone on tenterhooks after my last post, I can clear everything up very quickly. My 'show' soon developed into a full-blown underwear massacre (sorry for the imagery) and I spent the rest of my evening watching trash TV cuddled up to - what turned out to be - a leaky hot water bottle. To add insult to injury I didn't even realise until I got up to refill it as it was wrapped in a blanket and I felt how cold and wet my whole abdomen was. So there it is...I'm not pregnant, just fat. Still. Now the 'in-the-know' fertile Gods out there may be tutting in disgust at my acknowledgement of being fat as it is a well known medical fact that carrying extra weight may impact fertility negatively. Well guess what fertility Gods...I KNOW! When I say I am fat, I don't mean I'm a roly-poly, Fatty McFatterson who needs the roof removed and a crane to be lifted out of the house (although some days I don't feel too far away!). What I mean is that I am...

So for any woman trying to get pregnant, today is D-Day, the dreaded day of every month when my period is due. It is marked in the diary, highlighted in fertility apps and firmly imprinted in my mental calendar. Today I will hope and pray that the cramps don't bring what I know they inevitably will. I will go to the toilet countless times to check for any sign of a 'show' all the time willing my body not to cheat me again, praying that this month will be the month. I already know it won't be. I can feel the pressure, the pains...and the sadness.  I used to celebrate the arrival of my periods and breathe a sigh of relief...not anymore. I have been through this over 18 times now. At the beginning I told myself "It's OK, hardly anyone gets pregnant that quickly...It's OK, it will happen soon...It's OK you just have to wait for the time to be right etc etc etc". Since the start of this journey I have celebrated births of my friend's childre...