I promised you the headfuckery, the emotional fuckwittery, the messy lifeness, the mental rollercoaster. And what better day to write about all that than at the very end of the year? Here! Have it! My unburdening, so I can sally forth into 2017, lighter, happier, whatever, I don’t know.
In October I wrote that I had made a decision. I wrote that after
thinking, and dating, and sleeping with unsuitable people, and thinking that something might become A THING — and then realising that it wasn’t going to…
I had decided to try to get pregnant on my own. And making that decision was exciting, and terrifying, and empowering, and terrifying, and for a while it made me feel utterly invincible. Which sounds like a totally Continue reading
Ugh I just found this in my drafts – it’s from about a month ago, sorry about that, but you know, read it, then you’re pretty much up to date…
So, of course it wasn’t that straightforward, like I said, these things never are. Before I left the clinic my consultant sent me for a blood test to test my thyroid levels. Yet another of those things that you never even think about, but apparently your thyroid has to be operating at a certain level to create optimum conditions for pregnancy.
And whaddaya know, mine wasn’t. My blood test showed that my Thyroid Stimulating Hormone (TSH) levels were at around 5. The top end of normal in the regular population is 4.5 (although other people will say that normal can go up to 10) but crucially if you want to get pregnant with IVF, they want it closer to 2.5. The solution: daily pills of a drug called levothyroxine, which I have to take for three weeks or so and then get tested again to see if it’s doing what it needs to, or if I need a higher dose. Continue reading
So, I went to the clinic, and I talked to my consultant and I had a scan, and it mostly looked fine, and so we discussed a few things, like whether we’d try IUI (Intra Uterine Insemination – or what I like to think of as PTB — Posh Turkey Baster — where you get the sperm and stick it in and hope for the best…) or IVF (In Vitro Fertilisation — where the egg and sperm meet in a test tube (actually a dish rather than a tube I think) and mix there to make the embryo which is then put inside you. Continue reading
So, as you might have guessed from my previous post, it’s full steam ahead, all guns blazing, let’s try and get pregnant on my own. Project Faberge is GO. Well, sort of. I’ve booked the appointment to talk to my consultant about IUI, IVF, donors and all that, and I’ve joined the Donor Conception Network, and I’m all set to work out the protocol, pick my donor and all that. But I’m not planning on actually starting the process until after Christmas. Continue reading
So I’ve basically been thinking, and dating, and sleeping with unsuitable people, and thinking that something might become A THING — and then realising that it wasn’t going to. And I’ve been thinking some more about what life would be like if I had a child on my own, and thinking what life would be like if I never had children.
And I’ve been listening to friends with kids tell me I should “totally do it” and then listened to them, ten minutes later, blithely bitching about how shit it was when their bastard husbands worked late/were hungover/left them holding the baby, then seeming surprised when I gently pointed out that if I did “totally do it” I’d ALWAYS be left holding the baby. Continue reading
I was recently talking to a friend of mine, who had been going through IVF, about her experiences, and she was talking about the cognitive dissonance that seems inherent in all this.
You might never have done IVF, and you might not call it cognitive dissonance, but if you’ve ever been a teenager, you’ll know what she’s on about.
Maybe it was just me (I assumed it was everyone) who, as a teenager, Continue reading
It’s almost Easter, which can mean only one thing… actually, no, I can’t. I think I eggshausted all my egg-based puns two years ago. So that’s not why I’m back. I’m back because I’m taking the next step. Or at least preparing to. More putting on my shoes and thinking about lacing them up, rather than Continue reading
This is a really short post but I thought it was worth noting some of the advice that I’d been given by the great women that I wrote about in my last post.
One recommended a book called Choosing Single Motherhood which I started reading and then had to stop because it made me cry too much – partly because I realised that I am so NOT unique when it comes to all the things I’ve been worrying about, every single other woman who has thought about this has thought about exactly the same things. But also, partly, because I felt overwhelmed by it all at the time I was reading it, and the possibilities and problems and permutations just fucked with my head. So I stopped reading it but I will go back to it again as it does get rave reviews and I think I was just not really in the right frame of mind when I embarked upon it.
Both of them were also really positive about the Donor Conception Network, and specifically their Solo Mums section, and their workshops — which do sound really sensible and something I’ll definitely think about going to.
More useful info as it happens… Kind of.
Bloody months actually – I’m sorry. I never promised regular updates but even by my own — pretty low — standards, it’s been an abysmally long time since I last posted.
I’d love to tell you that there’s a good reason for that; that I’ve been swept up in some torrid love affair (although, given that I just checked the spelling of “torrid” and found that synonyms include “hot, sweltering, sultry, scorching, boiling, parching, sizzling, roasting, blazing, burning, blistering, tropical, stifling, suffocating, oppressive; dry, arid, barren, parched, waterless, desert”, I’m not sure I’d really want a love affair like that) or that I’d made some momentous decision Continue reading
So I’ve sort of mentioned to a few people that I’m thinking that my birthday next year might be the point at which I accept that maybe, after all, I’m not going to go down the conventional route of meeting someone and having children with them. And that maybe, despite my myriad concerns about going it alone, I might have to resign myself to the fact that if I really want a shot at this motherhood lark – which let’s be honest, I’ve had my doubts about – I might just have to find myself a donor, and, as Nike might have said, “just fucking do it” – ironically, of course, without Continue reading