So, back to IVF ghosts past. Interestingly enough, I feel very much now that I am in the same position that I was in after the first cycle, AF has gone AWOL and I was in the waiting, waiting, waiting mode. Do you think that at some point you get used to waiting? I definitely haven’t gotten used to it. Anyway, the first cycle was cancelled in November and Christmas came up really quick. I remember going to this Road to Bethlehem thing that they have at a school not far from here. It has become a bit of a tradition with our family and part of our Christmas tradition. I am not religious but I enjoy this because it is really fun and it brings the family together, I love Christmas. I remember thinking to myself that Christmas, ‘next year I will be pregnant or bringing a baby along with me’. I was absolutely certain that it would be so. I looked at the pregnant ladies and mum’s with their children happily thinking that it would be me that next year.
The next year came (last year) and I didn’t really want to go that much. Journey Man didn’t come this year, I can’t remember why and I was not in the spirit of Christmas at all. Normally I have my tree up in the first week of December and love all of the Christmas shows on TV and all of the family traditions that we have. Last year, I was a whole different person. We had had 4 failed cycles, we weren’t going away after Christmas like we normally do, I felt like I had failed in my life. My mum dragged me along to the Road to Bethlehem and mostly I wanted to cry. When I saw a pregnant woman, I averted my eyes. I tried not to see the mother’s happy faces looking at the children’s delight at the play. This time, I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t go (this year) if I wasn’t pregnant or have a baby. Time is running out, days, weeks and months are slipping away to achieve my dream this year.
I am a woman that counts a lot. I like numbers and pretty much am counting things or calculating in my head at all times – yes, I know I am sad. When I am running on the treadmill, I count down the minutes, I calculate how far I have fun and how much further I will go, as I say – I am totally the female (and human) version of The Count. Each year I have found myself calculating – if I get pregnant by March, I will have a baby that year and then March rolls around and I calculate when the baby would be due if I was pregnant in April, May, June etc. I look at success percentages religiously; I calculate the change in percentages that reducing my BMI would make. I calculate when the next cycle is due, and at the moment, I am obsessed with counting when we most likely will be going to Thailand – though I am completely flummoxed at the moment with AF gone AWOL. I calculate when I would be able to tell everyone about the pregnancy. I count down the days until I see the haematologist. I try to calculate the chances of me getting a blood clot when taking the birth control pill and oestrogen (1 in 8 apparently and that goes down with a flight I believe) and then try to calculate how much this would be reduced if I take blood thinners.
Okay, so now I realise why I am a bit tired a lot of the time! I hope, I hope, I hope that soon I will be calculating how many weeks I have until the baby is born, how many weeks we will wait before telling everyone, how much money we will need to babify the house. Mostly, I just hope (and count) and hope (and count).
Thanks for reading my friends – I hope that I haven’t bored the hell out of you with this very strange post!!