One woman’s tale of love, depression, IVF after 40.
Lifeslurper has just returned from her 87th kazillionth doctors appointment in recent months. I am talking general practitioner here, the type of doctor you go see about everyday stuff, as opposed to the fertility specialist you travel millions of miles and pay zillions of dollars to see about how to not make a baby. Continue reading ‘Joining the French Whooping Legion’
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.
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.
This infertility malarkey requires us to take a number of rather wide leaps of faith. During an IVF cycle we might find ourselves willingly injecting ourselves with various synthetic hormones and other lovely scientific creations designed to stimulate our bodies into doing all manner of amazing things.
Of course, the honour of doing this only occurs after we have signed our lives away, by acknowledging that the clinic and doctors are not responsible for any future health issues that might be visited upon us or worse still, our future offspring and every generation thereafter, it would seem.
Lifeslurper is having a bad day week month.
There are about eighteen incomplete posts half written for this blog, most of them not worth publishing. Why, that has never stopped me before, I hear you ask.
I feel completely without inspiration and purpose. Twins states I continue to spend most of my existence in. Conditions this blog was supposed to provide some respite from.
The pressures of infertility are becoming too much. Continue reading ‘Piggy in the IVF middle’
Ever since IVF entered my life, it has prompted an unofficial stock-take of my femininity. The absence of a pregnancy tells me my body is failing in this, the ultimate of female talents; to create live and give birth. For months on end I have been pumped full of medicines via injection, spray and tablet. These drugs are designed to invariably suppress, or stimulate my brain and ovaries into certain medically controlled actions.
Four IVF cycles have seen my body fail to do what it should do naturally on its own. Medically assisted or on my own, my body is confirming a lifetime of doubt over the subject of my own femininity. Continue reading ‘IVF is a feminine issue’
Sometimes it seems convenient to make infertility and the resulting IVF treatments the scapegoat for my problems.
Truth is, I had issues with depression, had lost my career, had gained weight, and had lost track of dreams (not necessarily in that order) before IVF entered the picture.
I can not blame infertility for my woes. However, the temptation is certainly there to associate all that is wrong about my world on the most obvious and recent of culprits. Continue reading ‘A perfect time for IVF?’
Some times I fantasize over the many luxuries it would take to make me pregnant. Sure many would disagree, feeling that regular trips to the hairdresser have nothing to do with fertility. I however, choose to differ.
When undertaking repeated cycles of IVF treatments, it is first essential to get over the idea that spending all those hard earned dollars in overcoming infertility is a luxury. Without IVF we have even less hope of having a baby. IVF treatments therefore become a necessity. One big financially-draining, stress inducing necessity. Continue reading ‘Fantasy IVF’
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’
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