Monday 6th October to Friday 10th October 2014: That Was The Week That Wasn't

MONDAY: I thought Sunday was the worst day of my life. Turns out that Monday decided to kick Sundays arse: it was the day I flushed my own baby down the loo. Well, I don't know if I did, but the image will stay with me forever. I will always think I did - whether I did or I didn't doesn't matter I suppose. The pain and bleeding were worse - it clearly wasn't over. Calling the Clinic they wanted me to go back in immediately, or to call an ambulance and go in: why, to be left in a room on my own for 10 hours??? TUESDAY: Was slightly better - I even brushed my teeth and had a shower. Check me out, I am positively civilised. Oh, and I didn't cry! Luckily Mr P is still off work and we have managed to keep all visitors away. We watched films and ate sweets and had ice lollies. It was the best day we have had in 3 weeks. Then I got upset. I saw a tweet made by someone who was pleased that they "survived" IVF and infertility. They also were thankful that God granted their "miracle" and that proves that people who "deserve" it get their miracle in the end. The person was immediately blocked and I went on a Twitter rage! I probably didn't explain myself well, but I will say this: no one deserves this shit, no one is more worthy than anyone else, and no one survives anything - they are just fucking lucky. Our Niece fought cancer twice and passed away the month before her 4th birthday - from that day I have always realised what a crap word "Survivor" is. I don't want to be a survivor, I want to be a warrior! When it comes to God I'm a massive fan, and despite my odd bit of rage I still believe he stuck us all here and leaves us to get on with it until our time comes. I don't want to get into a religious argument, but when their are thousands of innocent people dying and suffering every single minute of the day, people should start realising that God doesn't grant miracles, he gives people strength to continue to fight the good fight. WEDNESDAY: My first visitor! It was my Mum though so that's ok, and it was only an hour. Plus it meant Mr P could go outside and get some air away from the house of misery. She only came for her lunch break, but that was enough to break my spell of solitude. Im feeling better already and even looking at holidays and feeling excited about it. THURSDAY: My second visitor, the mother in law - luckily it was quick and she saved the tears for when she was leaving. I feel guilty though. She said "I don't think you should keep putting yourself through this" and i snapped back "yeah, well it's easy to say that but it's better than the alternative." It annoys me, and I know it shouldn't, but she has two children, a grandchild and another on the way. My parents have me - that's it. FRIDAY: Mr P went back to work today. As soon as his car started and he left I burst into tears. I went for a shower and burst into tears. I think I have finally realised that all I have done this week is distract myself. I have watched enough rubbish films to last a life time: seriously, films about Thanksgiving and a pumpkin growing contest, and I don't even know what Thanksgiving is or what pumpkin tastes of. I have looked at holidays and read reviews. I spent 3 hours looking at the plot lines of films banned in the UK and the rest of the world: Did you know that Schindler's List was banned in Indonesia because it was "sympathetic to the Jewish cause." I have spent hours playing games on my Nintendo DS. I haven't thought about Bubba - until this aft noon when I had a shower and spent about an hour sobbing. My friend asked if I wanted to go out for lunch. I said no, that I didn't feel up to it. She asked if she could come and see me. I said no, I don't want to see anyone. I haven't heard from her since. I never say No. The thought of talking to someone, having to say what happened, affects my plan of coping: ignorance really is bliss. One day I am going to have to stop ignoring reality and realise that this has happened to me and that I'm not ill, I'm grieving. I just prefer to be ill right now.

Sunday 5th October 2014: The End.

****WARNING - Miscarriage mentioned in detail and may be upsetting to some people**** After the confirmation of our missed miscarriage on Friday we consoled ourselves with tears, sweets, Frankie and Bennys, KFC, and lots of films. On Sunday morning we arrived at the hospital full of anxiety. I had prepared well by painting my toe nails, shaving my legs, and making sure my soon to be exposed lady garden was nice and tidy. I had a hospital bag with useful things and a fake smile of confidence on my face. We arrived inside the building and went for a wee - the nerves were bad! Then we started the hunt for the ward. Within two minutes we were lost in the warren or corridors and I thought I had wet myself. Stopping at a nearby toilet I realised I hadn't wet myself, I was bleeding. It was red. There was a lot of it. It arrived within 5 minutes of entering the building. Putting a pad in my pants we re-commenced our hunt. Within 2 minutes blood was running down my leg. We stopped again and I found that it wasn't just blood but also large clots. I added another pad and we again continued our hunt. The tears started to flow as heavy as the blood. Fortunately a lady patient saw me, took one look at me and said "next right, one floor up, turn left." I will forever be thankful to that lady. I felt that she sadly knew exactly how I was feeling at that moment. We arrived on the ward and were told to take a seat in the waiting room - until someone realised that blood was pooling at the floor and that I probably would be better out of the way. I was helped to undress, sat on a pad, and generally really well looked after by a team of Health Care Assistants and Nurses. It was a good job because I couldn't lift my arms and could barely talk. The Doctor came in and examined me. He confirmed that I was probably having a miscarriage but there was no point in testing the material because there was nothing there at this stage of pregnancy. Thanks for that. I was placed in a private room at the end of the corridor away from the women with babies. I was given codeine and paracetamol and big nappies. Every wee had to be examined in a bed pan. I was kept nil by mouth other than sips of water. I was left in peace. The pain was bad, but I have endometriosis, I am used to pain. The bleeding was horrific, it came in waves for a few hours. The clots were bad. My baby was leaving me and my body was pushing him out. A few hours later things got easier. The pain got under control with the codeine. The bleeding slowed. The Nurse said the worst was over - I had lost a lot of blood so it was probably a complete miscarriage. We waited for the Doctor. We waited for a blood test. We waited for a scan. We waited 6 hours and then we had knock on the door - it was was the tea lady and she came bearing gifts: dinner, ice cream, fruit, orange juice and coffee. I told her I wasn't allowed anything - she checked and came back and said "no you can, they said they have removed your nil by mouth status." We ate like we have never eaten before. Then we waited. By the time the nurse shift change had happened we had a new nurse - turns out we had been forgotten. It was too late for a blood test now. It was too late for a scan. We would have to wait until after 10pm for a Doctor: that's 11 hours since we saw a Doctor when we arrived. They were considering keeping me in but I have codeine at home, I have pads at home, I have the X Factor on tape at home. Besides, according to the nurse, the miscarriage was probably over now because the bleeding had settled down and I wasn't crying in pain anymore. They sent me home with an appointment for a weeks time and a number to call if I have any problems. We arrived home 12 hours after we left feeling drained and lost without our tiny little black hole of nothing.

Friday 3rd October 2014: Its a Number's Game

We have been trying to conceive for 1737 days. I have inserted 288 pessaries into my vagina. I have had around 108 injections in my belly and at least 24 internal scans: I couldn't count the blood tests I have had or the number of tablets I have taken. I had 26 big follies on my fresh cycle. They collected 15 eggs from my ovaries. Using ICSI my husband and I became parents to 4 embabies. I have had 3 embryo transfers. 2 BFNs. 1 positive test. I have no baby. I am the 1 in 4 that suffer a lost.

64.1 Million Shades of Grey

Today I'm feeling quite political. Maybe it's all these Party Conferences that have been going off, or maybe its just my brain's method of detracting from tomorrow? There has been yet another article in the Daily Mail (for those who don't know it's a newspaper for middle class, wealthy, retired, male golfers - a.k.a. My father in law) about that famous national authority on IVF and Fertility, Kirsty Allsop...Hmm, yes, i was thinking the same. It's a bit like saying I'm a fashion and beauty icon beings as I own two frocks from Top Shop AND had my hair cut today (for the first time in two years.) Apparently, according to the DM, Miss Kirsty (as to further reaffirm how 'with it' they are by allowing an unmarried woman to have an opinion - how very forward thinking of them) women should stop irresponsibly relying on IVF, stop worrying about getting an education, not worry about their career, and just find any man with active sperm and pop a few kids out early. For anyone who knows her, or the Mail, you know this isn't the first time this has been brought up, it's just one of a long line of IVF/IF propaganda. Now, if you read the article again it's probably more likely that it's the way her comments are being presented that is wrong. I don't like her - she is a well known Tory supporter - but in her defence she is quoted as referring to the fact that often it's men who need to "grow up" and for once she doesn't place it all on the woman. I do not agree with her. BUT, I do agree that the population at large think like she is being presented as thinking. Gosh, it's all a bit double-speak, but bear with me, I'm getting to my point. The media constantly portray IVF as a "back up" for career women. They never show the 25 year old woman with ruined tubes due to endometriosis, or the 27 year old man with knackered sperm due to chemo, or the 35 year old couple who have been trying for 5 years since the day they were married. No one cares about that, it doesn't make a good political argument for the scrapping if IVF funding. They don't care that a woman is 40 and has been trying for years, being misadvised by her GP who doesn't actually understand fertility and ovulation and still refers to the "Tampax Guide to Periods" they were given at medical school. And you know what, so what if someone thought IVF WAS a good back up plan, and thinks that 40 is the new 30; that's the way the media have portrayed it for years. No one criticised Simon Cowell for being a dad for the first time in his 50s, but actress Tina Malone was tied to the stake by some sections of the media. Personally I don't think that a lot of the Infertility charities and campaigns help the general public understand the facts. All that gets mentioned is funding funding funding. Sadly, in the current economic climate there are cuts and the most vulnerable members of society are suffering, and that includes the infertile. When any anti-IVF mouthpiece talks it's always about how having children is a priviledge, how the NHS is at breaking point, how cancer treatment is more important. I don't think any infertile would disagree with the last comment, but I would argue that nearly evereything on the NHS is a lifestyle choice of some kind. Treatment for cataracts allow people to read or watch TV, which is a lifestyle choice. Hip replacements allow people to walk, which is a lifestyle choice. Treatment for addicition is a lifestyle choice...oh, but wait, addiction is often a result of mental illness - that's not a choice. Being unable to see, or walk, is isolating and can lead to mental illness and that's not a choice. Having a child, for a woman born with (or even without) a womb isn't a lifestyle choice, it's a natural part of why women are women. I'm being a bit facetious, and I certainly don't mean that women are only here to have children, because they aren't. However, no one can argue with the fact that we have a whole organ system, and brain chemicals, that are only there to procreate - it's as natural as breathing or eating, and not being able to have a child feels like you can't breath. I think it's about time we stopped focussing on funding and started focussing on what it means to not be able to have children, how it affects men and women, that age is not necessarily a factor, that physical debilitating illness goes hand-in-hand. In reality we all have one thing in common, we were all born. If our parents couldn't have children we wouldn't be here (though after reading half way though my rant, I doubt there are many people here right now) and that would be pretty crap. We should focus on the companies who make obscene amounts of money out of infertility, and that includes milking money from the NHS. We should focus on the emotional effects of having treatment, feeling the pressure of society, feeling the pressure of work. Have you read the Handmaids Tale by Margaret Atwood? I don't think we are far off. Women are expected to have a career, bake, find a husband, buy a house, grow organic carrots, save for a pension, get pregnant, breast feed, have cloth nappies, go back to work and do it all again. We aren't supposed to struggle to get pregnant, we aren't supposed to get upset when we can't, we are supposed to take responsibility for infertility, and then we are expected to find £21,000+ to pay for IVF. When we are having treatment we are expected to work. When it fails we are expected to work. Then we are just expected to adopt. I very much fear that Kirsty-Gate is just the start. There is an election next year and there probably won't be a coalition. There will be more cuts and who is going to complain when the cuts affect the people who "made a lifestyle choice," and those people who "left it too late." There are roughly 64.1 million people in this country. Nothing is black and white. We all have our own stories and our own circumstances and we are all on the spectrum of different shades of grey. I don't think I have achieved anything today other than to scare myself with how much I can ramble when I get stuck into a hot political potato!

Pinch, punch, it's the 1st day of a shit month

Last night I received a text: "Hey! Have you had your 8wk scan yet???x" This coming from one of my (several) pregnant friends. I decided to ignore it, but I can only ignore it for so long. Even my husband doesn't understand our baby is gone so how can I tell a friend before I "tell" him? I'm probably going to have to say something like "Next week. Anyway, how are you?" It's just sods law that this particular friend has probably only text me 3 times in 5 years to ask how I am, I just wish that this week wasn't one of those rare occasions. Today my BFF called. I was supposed to be meeting her for coffee and was planning on telling her what is happening, but because her daughter (my goddaughter) has a sickness bug we had to cancel. She called to see how I was, and my goddaughter wanted to say hello as I haven't seen them for a few weeks. My BFF then went on a long ramble "How are you? How's baby? Oooh, I'm so excited and trying not to be but I can't help it! But as long as everything's ok I can't wait! Gutted about today though, but you will have it soon, bloody kids ruin your life you know!" What was I supposed to say. My 9 years old goddaughter was on the phone too. I just laughed (that's the biggest joke of the day) and kept trying to change the subject. It was hard. I ended the call as soon as I could. And then I cried. I haven't cried much for the last few days, I think I'm getting used to the feeling of despair, but today I just let myself sink. Telling people we were pregnant was lovely, and scary, but exciting. I know so many people like to keep it a secret until their 12 week scan, but in the event of bad news I didn't want the first time we told people we were pregnant to be when we were telling them we weren't pregnant anymore. This happened to my friend and I swore I wouldn't let it happen to me. Plus, by the time you get to cycle three your friends and loved ones start to get a basic understanding of the process, its not easy to hide treatment when its been going on for a year, and you run out of excuses. There is nothing worse than people saying "You aren't drinking? OMG, you are pregnant! I thought you had a bump!" when the reality is just that you are in the second month of down reg injections. Besides, I always thought if the worst was to happen I would need my friends - it turns out I was wrong. I don't want them, I don't want anyone. I just want a baby, not just any baby, my little black hole baby. I have a moment everyday where I think "maybe things will be ok" but then that's stupid. I'm stupid. I feel stupid for being hopeful. I feel stupid for telling people we were pregnant. I feel stupid telling people I'm not pregnant. I feel stupid for even believing I could ever be pregnant. Now not only do we have to go through this crappy miscarriage, but I have to go through it over and over and over again when I tell people. I have to go through knowing they are thinking "well, she did tell everyone too early." I have to go through people sending me flowers and pot plants. I have to go through people saying things like "well, it worked once...you can do it again...loads of people have miscarriages and go on to have children...maybe you should give up now...at least you got pregnant." I don't want sympathy, I don't want comments, judegments, or pot plants. I just want to be left alone to grieve in solitude. I just want to be allowed to grieve my beautiful little black hole. However small, and however filled with nothing my little black hole is, it's still MY little black hole.