One woman’s tale of love, depression, IVF after 40.
Or should that read; I visited Laparoscopy and all I got was this lousy infection?
It is over a week since my lap. Even now I am not even sure if I actually had the suggested d&c.
Call off the search and rescue people!
Remember me?
I am still here. Thank you for your cards and flowers.
Continue reading ‘Public Service Announcement from Lifeslurper’
Sometimes it is really hard to not feel like a totally useless waste of space.
Old, fat, infertile, not working, and now hardly walking.
We are on the eve of the twelve month anniversary of our first dealings with a fertility clinic.
Four failed IVF cycles are the most obvious souvenirs of almost one year of official up close involvement with ART. These occurred between January and August.
Are we wiser? Hopefully. Are we more informed about IVF? Partially. Are we poorer? Certainly. Are we any closer to becoming parents? Well, there is no real answer to that one.
It’s that time of the year.
Being a glass half empty kind of a gal, I have to do my best to not view the year as being over by the time we pass June. It is a yearly ritual. Something I blame on too many years spent as a student*, viewing the world and indeed my life in terms of the calendar year. In the latter half of the year I tend to dismiss the months remain as the fag end of the calendar, making my own silent vows to make better use of my time in the New Year.
Since infertility and ART reared its ugly head in my life, I have become rather time obsessed. I am not suggesting that IVF has assisted me in making better use of my time. Sadly, the real result seems to be an acute obsession with passing time that seems to lead to even more time wasting than my old ways.
Today Lifeslurper is featuring our very first guest blogger.
It is very fitting that this inaugural occasion should be given to Jodie Flynn; a woman who carries much of my survival through the wretchedness I know as IVF.
Recently Lifeslurper was ‘outed’ by a reader comment left by Jodie. Not that I was keeping secrets. Clearly anyone reading this blog will know there isn’t too much I am prepared to leave out. It was just that I hadn’t quite got to that stage of the story. Okay, it takes me a long time to get to any part of a story. Any short story left in my hands can very quickly become a long story. I wrote a post called Fantasy IVF about all the extras that are required to get through this whole IVF business. I left out the fact that I have a fertility coach in that post thinking that I would quickly get around to revealing my secret IVF weapon. My fertility coach, Jodie Flynn saw the post before I got around to mentioning her and I was outed!
Watch out world! Lifeslurper is writing a book.
Now before you all go out and pillage local publishers for showing such poor taste, please note this is only a pipe dream. One of those many things that infertility and the ensuing IVF treatments prompt me to recall.
Creativity is extremely important to this little brown duck. Yet I freely admit that the daily grind has assisted me in largely losing touch with any real forms of imagination. I associate creativity with beauty; imaginings that can find a simple form of beauty in the most mundane of acts, places and people. Continue reading ‘Lifeslurper’s nom de plumage’
Last night Wobbles held me as I sobbed uncontrollably.
“Remember I love you!’ It was more emphatic than his normal daily declarations. This one served a more important purpose.
‘Remember I love you!’ His words acting like an invisible lifeline thrown out across the very short distance between us.
Things have been slipping lately. In the two weeks since our fourth IVF cycle died with a whimper, I have felt my mood slipping downward to a well trodden area I’d prefer it not to go. Continue reading ‘Remember I love you!’
If eating was a competitive category of the current Olympic games I would be sporting more gold than Michael Phelps. Right now I could be sitting back taking it easy counting up the sponsorship millions I would be about to rake in over the next years while waiting for the closing ceremony to wind its way to an end at National Stadium (a.k.a. The Bird’s Nest.) Continue reading ‘Going for IVF gold’
One of the many complicated emotions that flood the psyche at the end of an unsuccessful IVF cycle is that of failure. This runs deeper than the vain attempt to become pregnant, and the ultimate failure: not having a baby. Having little to show for our infertility labours is damaging to the confidence of any person going through IVF treatment. Going back time and time again to face certain failure is crushing. It starts to bleed into all aspects of our existence. Continue reading ‘Hardly working for ART’
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