So Wobbles and I are not given much hope of achieving parenthood?
Well we decided to take matters into our own hands and go towards adoption.
World here for the first time are our new babies; Continue reading Miracle New Year babies
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“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” John Lennon. Anyone facing the ongoing battle to start a family can lose whole years of living swept up in the endless uncertainty of “will we be parents?” Years in, I am yet to find a suitable interim solution to living in the midst of infertility. We no longer talk babies all that much. We don’t chart things anymore. Today is Cycle Day Number Who Cares? I haven’t taken my temperature in so long, wait on, do we even have a thermometer anymore? Perhaps the heartbreak of the fifth failed IVF cycle was the straw that broke this infertiles back? Whatever the case, almost six months have passed since any IVF activity. A 45th birthday came and went without so much as a murmur. Much has changed, but one absolute remains unchanged: we are still no closer to a baby. Continue reading Life Happens. Babies Don’t With the arrival of every new calendar year comes that gaping sense of hope and possibilities, yet when you are in the midst of an infertility situation that no one (except an ever loving partner) see any chance of success, optimism is normally measured out in small doses.
This year is still in its infancy, yet so far it seems to be about endings.
Lifeslurper has a new home, the old run-down Camp Wobbles is no longer and the most enduring love of my life has gone. Both events coincided, as if to make what was always going to be a painful transition just that bit more straight forward. The last months have been strange. Stranger than the average Lifeslurper months. Illness tried to do me in. Surgery was therefore delayed. A new Camp Wobbles was located. Current Camp Wobbles has begun the lengthy process of being dismantled, only to be re-assembled just over two and a half hours east of here. IVF is still here, biding its time as the clear and ever present threat or promise to our lives. I guess it depends on how any given day is proceeding that shapes my view of ART as a curse or a blessing, with very little room between those two extremes for moderate thinking. Slowly an era of sorts has been coming to a close. Continue reading All boxed up |
 
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