I am currently in the limbo stage of the month - the 2WW (two week wait for those of you who are unfamiliar) has passed and following multiple BFNs (big fat negative) I am now patiently awaiting my period and all of the pain and disappointment that goes along with that.
I have been on this journey for close to 2 1/2 years now and I look back and can't believe how naive I was at the start. I used to actually patiently wait for my period to come each month until I learned that you can buy tests that allow you to check results up to six days before your period is due. Six days might not sound like a long time, it's not even a full week, a six day holiday would go by in the blink of an eye. Not when you're TTC (trying to conceive).
Time passes at a snails rate whilst waiting to test for pregnancy; you try to put it to the back of your mind but it consumes you until the day finally comes and you wake up like a child on Christmas morning, rush to the bathroom knowing that the first pee of the day is best to test with. You pee on the stick, or into your designated pee cup (yup that's a thing) and then wait the allotted time. This is when time really slows down. Those two to three minutes are agonising, filled with hope and dread all at the same time. You inwardly pray for a BFP (big fat positive) but also mentally prepare yourself for a negative result, yet silencing that nagging voice as your state of mind can alter the test. You'll brush your teeth or find something to clean just to pass the time and busy your mind. It's not like the pregnancy test ads on TV where a happy couple wait patiently together on the bathroom floor then check the result together and smile with elation at the result. My husband isn't even present for most of the tests anymore as everyday life has gotten in the way and he has left for work before I am up & at 'em. I also know that each negative breaks me down a little more and I can't hide my feelings behind a weak smile and 'Oh well, next time' anymore, so I prefer to have my mini breakdown in private where I can sob and heave and snotter to my heart's content. For the record my husband is wonderful and caring and supportive, I just can't handle my disappointment and his at the same time and the look in his eyes where I know he wants to protect me, but feels powerless. So I breakdown the breakdowns.
I have had many fantasies where I ring my husband up and pretend to be sick and ask him to come home from work to be able to surprise him with the news face to face. He's never come home early.
Other than early home testing and a plethora of abbreviations, one thing I have learned is just how fucking dangerous 'thinking yourself pregnant' really is. It is something I am sure we have all be told to do in our time 'relax and it will happen' or 'go on holiday and stop thinking about it.' How about you just fuck right off Susan*. I have had all of them, but for some reason the 'You know you can think yourself pregnant' has stuck with me the most. It still gives me a pang of rage in the pit of my stomach when I think about it. Maybe it's because I have a better understanding of biology and know that thoughts and prayers just won't make the sperm and egg meet. Or maybe, just maybe it is because it gave me a glimmer of hope. I am taking all the supplements, eating what I am told to eat, having acupuncture, having regular scheduled nookie (but still trying to sustain a level of fun & romance so as not to let the pressure get to us - more advice), not doing anything actually fun and then the little voice comes into my head 'Maybe this is the time, everything has aligned and now you just need to feel the baby, imagine it, visualise it. Don't let your negative thoughts hold you back, they get into your womb and rip the embryo away.'
Now before I continue, I do understand - first hand - how stress can have a negative impact on the body. I suffer from IBS and stress for me results in explosive diarrhoea and also problems sleeping. Others bite their nails, eat more (or less), lose their hair etc. the list is endless. In short I know stress isn't just mental it can also most certainly manifest itself physically. However, I do not believe that positive thoughts can miraculously produce a pregnancy, if it was that easy, the infertility market wouldn't be expected to be worth $21billion in just two years time (something else I have learned but we'll get back to that).
This month I allowed the 'positive voice' into my head a lot more than usual. I told myself this was my time. I had done everything exactly right, peed on all the ovulation sticks, kept my app up-to-date, kept my legs in the air (no one really knows if this works or not, but definitely worth a try eh?!), eaten more veg than a rabbit and I really believed it. I even started looking up pretty maternity clothes and picking outfits for weddings I have coming up, working out how far along I will be and imagining all the small talk 'Twins? Ha maybe!' or 'Due at the start of the year, boring Christmas for me this year haha' all the while glowing with pride and joy inside.
All that came crashing down on the morning of Wednesday 11th April - the end of my 2WW.
I skipped out of bed and into the bathroom, dutifully provided myself with a 'sample' dipped the stick, making sure not to go above the line and counting in my head to ensure I gave it enough (no less than 10 seconds) and then began the wait. I brushed my teeth and scrubbed the bathroom sink continually checking out of the corner of my eye then scolding myself for looking too early. Finally no second line appeared and I knew the inevitable was true. I cried one of those heaving sobs for a few moments, before I had a word with myself and decided to take action and regain control.
This is where my next lesson comes in. N. Ireland politicians have been fannying around for over a year now, I am about to vote in the second election in 12 months, yet no actual politicing (it's not a word, I don't care) has been done in that time. If you're unfamiliar with Northern Irish politics, the conflict of power is a lot more to do with those in the driving seats holding onto vastly outdated religious ideologies (despite all being Christians, not very Christian of them, go figure) than actual politics and said stubborn ideologies have prevented a government actually being formed for over a year now. There was a half a billion pound scandal that us tax payers footed the bill for, but don't even get me started on that. Then of course one of the two top parties jumped into bed with Theresa May to keep her leadership alive, despite the fact that they are not actually governing their own region. It is all a complete fucking circus and all the while NHS waiting lists are getting longer and longer, schools are under funded, potholes are getting bigger, yet politicians are still getting paid for doing nothing.
When I discussed NHS IVF waiting times with my doctor last year, he told me that the only way to move things along is to get onto my local counsellor and tell them to get their finger out. He wasn't wrong. It didn't work.
You may be aware that I was referred for investigative procedures back in November. I had a pre-op assessment in January and despite being listed as 'urgent' each time I called for an update I was told I would be brought in around May. Last time I called they said maybe April/May and I suddenly had a glimmer of hope. Until the morning of Wednesday 11th April when I rang on a mission to regain control following my BFN. The woman at the other end of the line tapped away on her computer and then counted aloud 'June, July, August...it'll be August you'll be in.' All control lost. I cried, but kept trying to speak to her, through my tears and eventually managed 'But l-l-l-ast time they *muffled sobs* said April/M-m-may' and I tried to apologise for my tears, I wasn't very successful. The woman was genuinely lovely and helpful and took my number and offered to look into it for me - she could obviously hear my distress. She called back a short while later explaining that the Doctor whose care I was under no longer worked there (probably funding cuts) and the Doctor who had taken over could only do two procedures per month (definitely funding cuts). I cried again and managed to ask about being referred to other hospitals in different areas - I'd have to speak to them directly and then my GP.
Funding cuts are causing me huge emotional distress, yet I can only imagine what people with life threatening illnesses are going through. How long are they being forced to wait for treatment, how is it impacting their families, how many of them are off work with stress, how many will have to adapt their homes and their lives because the hospital beds just aren't available? Politicians of Northern Ireland - do me a favour and pull your fucking fingers out...please.
I have decided that enough is enough and August - while it may not seem far away - is three periods, at least 6-9 pregnancy tests (we take more than one just to be sure...it's totally normal fertiles, don't judge us) and untold numbers of social media pregnancy announcements away, plus I could have had a baby in the time since my referral...and it isn't even guaranteed. I can't take anymore mentally, on Wednesday I cried spontaneously and uncontrollably about 14 times. So I have been to my GP and had a referral to a private clinic that will see me about £3.5k lighter, but will finally give me some answers, or at the very least, the feeling of control and all within a few weeks.
This may seem like a hefty price tag for something that will be available for free in a matter of months, but trust me when I tell you there is no price tag on infertility and peace of mind along the journey.
A close friend of mine is also struggling with infertility (she's also contemplating the NHS v private route) and we have sent each other untold numbers of recommended recipes, supplement suggestions, links to cheaper but reliable tests (no one needs to pay £10 a pop to actually read the words 'Not Pregnant' we all know what the missing line means) and the latest is the fertility watch. It monitors your body temp, activity etc and tells you when you are most fertile (like a FitBit for those TTC), it costs £250. So we're back to that final lesson. Infertility ain't fuckin' cheap and there will always be those in the world who will exploit the desperate and needy (speaking of...I'm hoping to go to a psychic soon), so if you ever want children, start saving the minute you leave primary school, just in case.
*Names have been changed to protect the identities of inconsiderate assholes.
I have been on this journey for close to 2 1/2 years now and I look back and can't believe how naive I was at the start. I used to actually patiently wait for my period to come each month until I learned that you can buy tests that allow you to check results up to six days before your period is due. Six days might not sound like a long time, it's not even a full week, a six day holiday would go by in the blink of an eye. Not when you're TTC (trying to conceive).
Time passes at a snails rate whilst waiting to test for pregnancy; you try to put it to the back of your mind but it consumes you until the day finally comes and you wake up like a child on Christmas morning, rush to the bathroom knowing that the first pee of the day is best to test with. You pee on the stick, or into your designated pee cup (yup that's a thing) and then wait the allotted time. This is when time really slows down. Those two to three minutes are agonising, filled with hope and dread all at the same time. You inwardly pray for a BFP (big fat positive) but also mentally prepare yourself for a negative result, yet silencing that nagging voice as your state of mind can alter the test. You'll brush your teeth or find something to clean just to pass the time and busy your mind. It's not like the pregnancy test ads on TV where a happy couple wait patiently together on the bathroom floor then check the result together and smile with elation at the result. My husband isn't even present for most of the tests anymore as everyday life has gotten in the way and he has left for work before I am up & at 'em. I also know that each negative breaks me down a little more and I can't hide my feelings behind a weak smile and 'Oh well, next time' anymore, so I prefer to have my mini breakdown in private where I can sob and heave and snotter to my heart's content. For the record my husband is wonderful and caring and supportive, I just can't handle my disappointment and his at the same time and the look in his eyes where I know he wants to protect me, but feels powerless. So I breakdown the breakdowns.
I have had many fantasies where I ring my husband up and pretend to be sick and ask him to come home from work to be able to surprise him with the news face to face. He's never come home early.
Other than early home testing and a plethora of abbreviations, one thing I have learned is just how fucking dangerous 'thinking yourself pregnant' really is. It is something I am sure we have all be told to do in our time 'relax and it will happen' or 'go on holiday and stop thinking about it.' How about you just fuck right off Susan*. I have had all of them, but for some reason the 'You know you can think yourself pregnant' has stuck with me the most. It still gives me a pang of rage in the pit of my stomach when I think about it. Maybe it's because I have a better understanding of biology and know that thoughts and prayers just won't make the sperm and egg meet. Or maybe, just maybe it is because it gave me a glimmer of hope. I am taking all the supplements, eating what I am told to eat, having acupuncture, having regular scheduled nookie (but still trying to sustain a level of fun & romance so as not to let the pressure get to us - more advice), not doing anything actually fun and then the little voice comes into my head 'Maybe this is the time, everything has aligned and now you just need to feel the baby, imagine it, visualise it. Don't let your negative thoughts hold you back, they get into your womb and rip the embryo away.'
Now before I continue, I do understand - first hand - how stress can have a negative impact on the body. I suffer from IBS and stress for me results in explosive diarrhoea and also problems sleeping. Others bite their nails, eat more (or less), lose their hair etc. the list is endless. In short I know stress isn't just mental it can also most certainly manifest itself physically. However, I do not believe that positive thoughts can miraculously produce a pregnancy, if it was that easy, the infertility market wouldn't be expected to be worth $21billion in just two years time (something else I have learned but we'll get back to that).
This month I allowed the 'positive voice' into my head a lot more than usual. I told myself this was my time. I had done everything exactly right, peed on all the ovulation sticks, kept my app up-to-date, kept my legs in the air (no one really knows if this works or not, but definitely worth a try eh?!), eaten more veg than a rabbit and I really believed it. I even started looking up pretty maternity clothes and picking outfits for weddings I have coming up, working out how far along I will be and imagining all the small talk 'Twins? Ha maybe!' or 'Due at the start of the year, boring Christmas for me this year haha' all the while glowing with pride and joy inside.
All that came crashing down on the morning of Wednesday 11th April - the end of my 2WW.
I skipped out of bed and into the bathroom, dutifully provided myself with a 'sample' dipped the stick, making sure not to go above the line and counting in my head to ensure I gave it enough (no less than 10 seconds) and then began the wait. I brushed my teeth and scrubbed the bathroom sink continually checking out of the corner of my eye then scolding myself for looking too early. Finally no second line appeared and I knew the inevitable was true. I cried one of those heaving sobs for a few moments, before I had a word with myself and decided to take action and regain control.
This is where my next lesson comes in. N. Ireland politicians have been fannying around for over a year now, I am about to vote in the second election in 12 months, yet no actual politicing (it's not a word, I don't care) has been done in that time. If you're unfamiliar with Northern Irish politics, the conflict of power is a lot more to do with those in the driving seats holding onto vastly outdated religious ideologies (despite all being Christians, not very Christian of them, go figure) than actual politics and said stubborn ideologies have prevented a government actually being formed for over a year now. There was a half a billion pound scandal that us tax payers footed the bill for, but don't even get me started on that. Then of course one of the two top parties jumped into bed with Theresa May to keep her leadership alive, despite the fact that they are not actually governing their own region. It is all a complete fucking circus and all the while NHS waiting lists are getting longer and longer, schools are under funded, potholes are getting bigger, yet politicians are still getting paid for doing nothing.
When I discussed NHS IVF waiting times with my doctor last year, he told me that the only way to move things along is to get onto my local counsellor and tell them to get their finger out. He wasn't wrong. It didn't work.
You may be aware that I was referred for investigative procedures back in November. I had a pre-op assessment in January and despite being listed as 'urgent' each time I called for an update I was told I would be brought in around May. Last time I called they said maybe April/May and I suddenly had a glimmer of hope. Until the morning of Wednesday 11th April when I rang on a mission to regain control following my BFN. The woman at the other end of the line tapped away on her computer and then counted aloud 'June, July, August...it'll be August you'll be in.' All control lost. I cried, but kept trying to speak to her, through my tears and eventually managed 'But l-l-l-ast time they *muffled sobs* said April/M-m-may' and I tried to apologise for my tears, I wasn't very successful. The woman was genuinely lovely and helpful and took my number and offered to look into it for me - she could obviously hear my distress. She called back a short while later explaining that the Doctor whose care I was under no longer worked there (probably funding cuts) and the Doctor who had taken over could only do two procedures per month (definitely funding cuts). I cried again and managed to ask about being referred to other hospitals in different areas - I'd have to speak to them directly and then my GP.
Funding cuts are causing me huge emotional distress, yet I can only imagine what people with life threatening illnesses are going through. How long are they being forced to wait for treatment, how is it impacting their families, how many of them are off work with stress, how many will have to adapt their homes and their lives because the hospital beds just aren't available? Politicians of Northern Ireland - do me a favour and pull your fucking fingers out...please.
I have decided that enough is enough and August - while it may not seem far away - is three periods, at least 6-9 pregnancy tests (we take more than one just to be sure...it's totally normal fertiles, don't judge us) and untold numbers of social media pregnancy announcements away, plus I could have had a baby in the time since my referral...and it isn't even guaranteed. I can't take anymore mentally, on Wednesday I cried spontaneously and uncontrollably about 14 times. So I have been to my GP and had a referral to a private clinic that will see me about £3.5k lighter, but will finally give me some answers, or at the very least, the feeling of control and all within a few weeks.
This may seem like a hefty price tag for something that will be available for free in a matter of months, but trust me when I tell you there is no price tag on infertility and peace of mind along the journey.
A close friend of mine is also struggling with infertility (she's also contemplating the NHS v private route) and we have sent each other untold numbers of recommended recipes, supplement suggestions, links to cheaper but reliable tests (no one needs to pay £10 a pop to actually read the words 'Not Pregnant' we all know what the missing line means) and the latest is the fertility watch. It monitors your body temp, activity etc and tells you when you are most fertile (like a FitBit for those TTC), it costs £250. So we're back to that final lesson. Infertility ain't fuckin' cheap and there will always be those in the world who will exploit the desperate and needy (speaking of...I'm hoping to go to a psychic soon), so if you ever want children, start saving the minute you leave primary school, just in case.
*Names have been changed to protect the identities of inconsiderate assholes.
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