Level 7 – I’ve Been Promoted.

I won’t beat around the bush here. This cycle has failed. Am I upset? Hell yes.

No matter how much I try to hide away from the sorrow I feel, it does not abate. It stays and causes such an ache in my chest. The only way to get rid of it is to let my feelings out. Let it all hang out there, like a load of dirty washing that won’t come clean, no matter how many times I wash it. And it feels like dirty washing, too. Something I am not proud of, that I want to stash away in a cupboard somewhere so no-one can see how much it’s affecting me. And yet the only way to actually feel better is to hang it up and watch it dry.

Let me say a sad goodbye to my “Stage 6 Baby Dust Status”. All you level Sevener’s out there, I expect a hearty welcome. Just in case you have forgotten what a Level 7 Infertile is, let me remind you:

Level Seven: The Veteran Infertile: (Courtesy of Princess Smartypants)

The VI has now been through numerous failed infertility treatments. She has long abandoned her perky on-line friends for other vets who are bitter and angry like herself. There is no baby dust there. In fact, if someone so much as mentions baby dust, they should be prepared to have it shoved so far up their ass it comes out their nose when they sneeze. The VI and her friends post on message boards and blog about the horrendous-ness that is infertility. For many VIs, this on-line misery-loves-company support is the only thing that keeps their heads above water. It connects them with someone who actually knows how they feel.
The VI has to sit on her hands to keep from smacking anyone who tells her to think positively because “I had a cousin who…” or because “I know just how you feel, it took us 3 months!” (though it has been noted that some don’t bother sitting on their hands…)
The Vet inserts her needles while simultaneously talking on the phone, eating dinner, and knitting a sweater.
Many people know about the infertility. You can’t miss that much work and not expect people to ask questions. The VI has by now given up many of the hobbies and activities she used to participate in because treatment takes up too much time, too much money, or just too much energy.
She avoids events and activities that she knows a pregnant woman or new mom will be attending. So, she avoids A LOT.
She begins to believe that she may never become pregnant.


So here I am. Almost 6 years and 3 IUI’s later, and nothing to show for it. I will most likely be taking a month or two’s break, after which I will start IVF. Thank you all for your unfaltering support. I will still be around, cheering all of you on. To all of you still in your 2ww, I bestow my last bit of *baby dust* on you, and pray for a positive outcome for all of you.

A note to my family: I know this is very upsetting for you, and difficult to make any sense of. I could sugar coat it and pretend I am okay, but I am not okay. It’s not the end though, it’s just the beginning of a whole other path of treatment. A path I never wanted to end up on, but then, we don’t always get what we want. I appreciate all of your love and support. It does not go unnoticed.

Playing on the radio at the moment is “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol. This song is very descriptive of how I am feeling at the moment:

“If I lay here,
If I just lay here,
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world.
Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old,
Show me a Garden
That’s bursting into life.”


A Little Story About Me

I would like to thank everyone for their love and support. It is never easy facing a BFN, but having you all around makes it a bit more bearable somehow. This used to be a very lonely road for me. Now I feel like I have some wonderful travelling companions. It certainly makes the journey less tiresome. Special thanks to Tam, who stuck by me like glue – I lived for her e-mails in my 2ww.

I would like to tell you about someone else who is very special in my life. My grandfather. Fondly known as “papa” ever since I could talk.
My mom fell pregnant with me when she was just sixteen or so. (No, I did not inherit her terribly fertile genes!) She was young, and scared. She had discussed putting me up for adoption, and there was a wealthy couple who were interested. On the day that they arrived to discuss the adoption, my mom became very upset. My grandfather calmly called her to one side and asked her what she wanted to do. She said that she wanted to keep her baby (that would be me). My grandfather said that if that’s what she wanted, then that’s what she would do. They did not answer the door, and waited quietly in the house for the people to leave. I am not sure what transpired after that, all I know is that I was never adopted by that family, and I have my “papa” to thank for that.
My grandparents helped to take care of me up until I was about four or so, and even after my mom moved away and made a life for herself, I stayed very close to my grandparents. They have always stood by me, loved me unconditionally, and always made me feel very special. I still see them as often as I can. They are always grateful for our visits, yet I don’t see it that way. I feel that they are such a big part of my life, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Since I “came out” with my IF problems, my gran has been right there, cheering me on through everything. They are both very dear to my heart, and I hope they know it.
Last but not least my mom, who, although very young and probably very scared, chose the immense responsibility of raising me, loving, feeding and clothing me. Of course she did this with the help of my dad, because without him, who knows where we would be today. But that’s a whole other story…

Fat Lady Warming Up Her Vocals

Honestly… I feel a little PMS coming on.

My breasts are feeling a little tender, and my lower back is starting to ache: classic symptoms of AF for me. *sigh* I am trying to remain neutral until I know for sure, but we all know how easy that is!

I am deeply sorry for Debbie, who got a BFN yesterday. There is nothing that can be said, that can take away the feeling of emptiness and disappointment when that happens. There has been so much good news in the blogs lately, and we all hope to be a part of that, too. Sadly though, whilst some of us will move on to happier times, some will inevitably have to stay behind and continue to struggle against the odds.

When I started reading other people’s blogs, and sharing in their disappointment, I would often try to give an upbeat, positive message to those people, thinking that it would make them feel better. (Yes, I am a Stage 6 NTI – Baby Dust -kinda gal). Silly me, there is nothing positive about a Big Fat Negative. All that people really want is support: a thoughtful comment, mail or sms; a small bunch of flowers or any other kind gesture; or just a hug. Plain and simple: acknowledgement of their loss.
I know what you’re thinking, “How can they grieve a loss when they never had anything to begin with?” Believe me, when you are staring down the barrel of a BFN, it is with an overwhelming sense of having lost something. I cried like my heart would break with my last failed IUI. (And I don’t cry easily.) It’s just that you pour your heart and soul into the process, you allow yourself to “breathe out” and feel a little hopeful again. You imagine how you will tell people, you imagine their delighted reactions. You dream about holding your baby close to your heart and feeling that love welling up inside that everyone tells you about. It’s a massive investment of yourself, and when it crashes, the repercussions are great.

At the aforementioned 21st birthday party, I failed to mention that there was a 6 month old baby there. He was the most adorable little thing, cute as a button, really. BUT: I could not for the life of me spend more than 5 minutes around him without a feeling of absolute despair setting in. I avoided being near him or his mother (21). I watched from across the room as people handed him around, playing with him and making him smile. I felt such a heavy weight bearing down on me. Without realising it, I have avoided babies and all things baby related for so long, that I am not even sure what it is that I want so badly anymore. All I know is that the ache won’t go away until I have it.

So I am still here, waiting patiently for my own result. You’ll be happy to know that I have not given up on this cycle. Yet.

It’s The Weeke-e-e-e-e-nd Baby!

Not a moment too soon, either! This week has dragged on for, like, eons! Luckily there are loads of good blogs to while away the afternoon. I think I need a cup of tea…. just a sec…

There! That’s better! Now I can think straight. After a week from hell on Clo.mid and Oestrogen(I really pity all the IVF’ers on the injections), I need a break. I fired a couple of my customers, argued politics with Debs, almost bit DH’s head right off last night for being half an hour late last night…. (half an hour for goodness’ sake!) I’m losing it I tell ya! Friday could not have come sooner. I just want to get back to my normal, calm, happy-go-lucky self. Then on Monday it’s back to Giant Country to visit my BFG. (CD 12 scan, Pregnyl) Wish me luck.

On a slightly sadder note:

I am so sorry to hear of Steph’s BFN – it’s the thing we all fear the most. When I read Steph’s short, heartbreaking post this morning, all the familiar feelings came flooding back. We do feel each others’ pain. I also remembered how much better I felt, though, when the comments started coming in. All the encouraging words, the sincere and heartfelt comments were like a mother who scoops her wounded child into her arms and coo’s “There there, little one. It will be alright.”

The child is still wounded, but the comfort of it’s mothers words bring about a sense of healing. Days pass, the wounds begin to heal, and hope flickers into life again. Steph, it will be alright. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but very, very soon. And when you have the strength to get up and try again, we will be right alongside you.

As my Debs said to me in my darkest hour, “Today we allow our hearts to break. Tomorrow, we do whatever we can to make things right.”