Still Passing Open Windows ....

I've been a bad blogger

Don't read this if you are having a bad day. Go and do something nice for yourself. Blogs are always around, they don't often disappear.

Thank you to everyone who has left me encouraging comments and to those who sent me an email over these past few weeks when I have been so absent. I have been so touched by people half-way across the world (or the country) who were thinking of me.

A while back I looked at my blog list and EVERYONE, well it seemed like everyone, let's say 80% of it was pregnant and I couldn't believe it. Pregnancy announcement in the infertile blogosphere are like dewdrops on spiderwebs in the grass, so beautiful and yet so tenuous a smile slowly makes its way across your face as you hold your breath because you want everything to stay exactly as it is in this moment, you want everything to turn out right. And at the same time as I was feeling this, I felt like the wicked witch of the south, the oldest blogger (or at least oldest lurker-turned blogger) on-line and still not pregnant. I mean, I was reading Julie's blog before she fell pregnant with Charlie. I read the Naked Ovary through her long, long wait for Maya. I know this is not a competition and there are no prizes but I felt like the last person to be picked for a game of rounders; a little uncoordinated, a little weird. You know maybe I was talking my drugs incorrectly? Maybe there was something really basic I hadn't grasped. Or maybe, the scariest thought, maybe I was never going to fall pregnant, never have children, maybe I just couldn't despit the best medical help in the world.

And we went back to the doctor and we did IVF. Transfer number one : no. Transfer number two: despite a promising start, no. And people spoke of the blogosphere being full of happiness and pregnancy announcements and I snarled in my corner, "Yeah, whatever. Let's do transfer number three and use up that last bloody embryo and then we can forget about it for a while and go on a nice holiday."

And we did transfer number three and the protocol was strengthened and I waited for failure no. 3. And nothing happened. No spotting. Nothing. "It's the estrogen," I thought, "Holding everything in." I did the blood test and went to work. My aunt called on her "number withheld" line (unlisted number to deter salespeople) and I didn't pick up. I didn't want to speak to ANYONE except the hospital and it was too early. My aunt phoned again. She called a third time during lunch and I blithely ignored her. At 2.30 on the dot I phoned the hospital, "Mrs. H?" the nurse said, "I've been trying to get hold of you. I phoned three times! It's good news, it's positive."

"I thought it was my aunt," was all I could say.

"Come in again on Thursday to see if it doubles in 48 hours," she said about to hang up.

"What was the figure?" I asked (I'm well trained by all of you now, I know they have an exact figure and the laboratory does not simply send back the test marked "positive".)

"330." she said.

Can you believe it? A year and a half after my disasterous loss I am pregnant again. The beta doubled in the Thursday test (700 something) and so far things are ok. The night terrors wake me up at 2 a.m. but otherwise things seem fine. Next visit to the hospital: Tuesday.

And I apologise for holding out on you all. It just seems so early, you know. It's the size of a sesame seed. Anything could happen. And yet, it is lovely, lovely, lovely to be pregnant again. Finally. And I'm scared of telling people. Scared that it will make it real to the outside world and it will all come crashing down but if I keep it secret, it can develop for a while longer and become stronger. Part of me wants to announce it when I leave the maternity ward with a healthy child in my arms and part of me want to tell all my friends, "I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant!" So I can tell you all and you know what's like and hopefully all will go well.

My enclave

Julie, over at alittlepregnant as if I needed to say that, asks about the gentlemen's enclave where the man goes to do his bit for the war. Apparently here it is standard - down in the basement, small room, chair, few magazines. I was thinking about it and I realised that at this point, if H told me there was a sexy little thing in stilettos and black underwear brandishing a whip to spur him on, I would only think, "Oh, how nice. Hope it's fun for you."

Doing a transfer followed by two FETs back to back has exhausted me. I feel like I have spent the last three months waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And resting. And reading books and eating healthily and avoiding questions about whether we are taking summer holidays. In a nutshell it has been really shitty. There has been the odd dramatic high point like me screaming at H in Madrid airport that we should get divorced because I will never give him a child and our marriage is not one that will survive childlessness but other than that it's been pretty quiet. And so boring. So, so, so boring. Good grief, if I don't do something I will ..... just go on being nasty to everyone around me I guess.

Other bloggers have written how infertility has made them a better person; made their marriage stronger or given them more empathy or introduced them to amazing people. I just think infertility has made me into a wrinkled little prune of spite. A friend said, "I was talking to someone, I can't name names, and she is going through the same thing as you for the past few months and she's doing injections now." And all I said was, "The past few months? Is that all?" Go Carlynn, bring on the compassion girl, don't hold back.

How does one cope with failure after failure and the feeling that one's life is just stuck? How do you do it? What do you contribute your emotional equilibrium to? Mel talks about human harbours, people who just make you feel better by being around them. I find the longer this goes on for, the more I isolate myself (hence the divorce statement) and the only time I feel ok is when I am alone. Only problem is I want to go away and I don't like travelling alone. Oh, the problems I have.