Having been anti anything IVF for as long as I can remember, this decision was only made a couple of weeks ago, and since then doors have been flinging themselves open and credit cards have been applied for, in anticipation of the epic costs coming our way.
It probably couldn't come at a worse time. My other half is depressed, struggling to make money, and having almost daily meltdowns about money, fear and responsibility. He has also developed a serious car-moaning habit which led to today's ding dong on the way to the IVF clinic (generalised moaning about our health care system, other drivers etc), which then segued nicely into our top-and-tail row on the way home (me suggesting we both try out a meditation class together to help with anxiety, him telling me it wasn't for him and he would prefer a new piece of kit he read about that monitors your brainwaves and encourages calmness. For $299, even though all spare funds are heading for the IVF pot. Hmmm).
During a rare moment of peace on the way there we noted that yes, we do in fact row every time we head to that shiny new clinic that is going to be draining our funds. And now we're back home, my meds are arriving tomorrow and I'm feeling more than a little freaked out. I've taken myself off for some quiet time as I don't trust myself to be a) polite, b) patient or c) kind to my other half, as we still haven't made up, and as I now appear to be the kind of person who makes big decisions quickly, I have decided to start this shiny new blog.
Nobody knows we're starting IVF. I have friends who share their journey on social media and I am in parts amazed and a little freaked out that this kind of information is shareable on facebook to all and sundry. Another friend has been trying to conceive for a little longer than us (4 years) and recently conceived but then very sadly lost it at around 7 weeks, and she also has reached out to others on facebook, sharing her very raw pain. I admire these women but I am not one of them. I will happily share lots of details about my life, but this one feels very, very private. And I'm wondering what that's about. Especially as I'm sharing it with you right now. I'm sure you're lovely and everything but really, I don't know the first thing about you.
So here I am. Alone, scared, more than a little razzed off with my other half, and trying to quash fantasies about packing my bags, getting the next plane to Brazil or Greece, having my own personal dark night of the soul, and then being comforted by some kind stranger over salty margaritas...and ahem, you can guess the rest. That Liz Gilbert has a lot to answer for...
As I'm feeling pretty much alone in all of this here is the space where I can breathe out all that I have been keeping close to my chest. It may involve occasional offloads about my husband, which ordinarily I would share with friends, but as they will mostly be about IVF and money and bad timing (as they have been for the past few weeks, rising in crescendo as we got nearer to D day which was today), I can't. So I'm sorry dear reader, but it is to you that I turn.
He is actually a good sort. He has a kind heart, is far too soft with the dog (although weirdly most definitely not with me) and he has good integrity, which is really important to me. It's just that he is also really stubborn, fixed, has an addiction to computer and board games involving warlocks and the like, and appears to be consumed by fear and frustration a lot of the time lately. I do love him. Tonight I just don't like him very much. I feel bad saying that, but if I can't say it to you, in this secret between-the-reality-of-my-life blog, then who can I say it to.
I was going to go into how this big decision all came about so suddenly but then I remembered that I'm tired and achey. Oh and I have a sore fenella, which you probably didn't want to know about but there it is. Yesterday I had to have a procedure to check my womb is all ready and willing to house a little being or two. Thankfully it is, but the procedure, which included a biopsy, wasn't pleasant. And I have pmt. And I'm on a detox all month, so no wine, no chocolate and apparently no fun is to be had this month.
Jesus, what a moany cow, and I complain about him being negative!
So thanks for being here, it helped.
The bath is calling, I'll catch you soon.