I ran away in January. To a place that I didn’t associate with trying and not succeeding. Somewhere I drank wine and stopped worrying about whether I was eating enough vegetables. (I wasn’t.) Somewhere I stopped caring if food was packaged in plastic (it was), or whether the tomatoes were organic (they weren’t). Somewhere my life wasn’t measured out in blood tests and supplements and scans and injections. Where I rudelyContinue reading
I was going to do the next cycle right after Christmas, buoyed by the success of the frozen blastocyst. But then… but then… but then I talked to a consultant, and we talked about whether — if I got another blastocyst from this cycle — to do a fresh transfer or to freeze. And there seemed no real reason NOT to do a fresh transfer. But then… but then the timings meant I’d be going straight from a fresh transfer into a two week skiing holiday, the first few days of which would have been with people who like to ski hard, fast and would have found it more than a little odd if I suddenly didn’t. Continue reading
You’d be WELL within your rights to ask that. Because what are we? October 11th? And there hasn’t been a post since September 2nd. Well not a fat lot really. By which I mean not a fat lot of interest. By which I mean I’m not pregnant nor really any closer to being pregnant.
…and maybe this is why it didn’t feel like last time, maybe this is why I felt disengaged, maybe because on some level, somewhere, I had some inkling that this was going to happen.
Because ‘this’ was the call that I got today, from a stranger that I’d never spoken to before (but more on that in another post, another time) telling me that of the five eggs that had defrosted successfully, Continue reading
When you read about people doing IVF (and let’s be honest, you do, don’t you? Because you’re here, and I know I’m awesome and all that but I’m guessing this isn’t the ONLY IVF blog you’re reading) or see women having IVF depicted in the media — in books, films or TV programmes, there are these classic tropes aren’t there?
You know what I mean. The woman who grits her teeth when a friend announces a pregnancy. Or wells with tears when Continue reading