Our Last Chance Cycle will kick off soon. I have decided (with Wobbles’ approval) to do things a little different this time. I am calling on some extra help with the knowledge this might be a little controversial, and possibly a lot desperate.
It all probably amounts to too little too late as well.
Lifeslurper readily admits to being in need of an attitude adjustment when it comes to ART. Apparently, it is all that will help my elderly ovaries begrudgingly cough up some over cooked or sometimes even half-baked follicle producing eggs.
Without IVF we are stuffed. With it, we so far have nowhere. I am resentful. The fertility specialists tell us we have no hope, at the same time as they offer to sign us up for another cycle. I feel I am entered in a race that I am certain to have difficulty clearing the starting line. Continue reading The Cult of Desperation
On the face of things, my fertility specialist and hairdresser have very little in common. Their work involves distinctly different regions of the body. Their skills potentially contribute to vastly different outcomes.
Heartbreak on admittedly varying scales can often be the most obvious result of their desire to experiment or use creativity.
At this stage of my life, I need my hairdresser almost as much as I need my fertility specialist.
Continue reading Groomed for IVF
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.
Continue reading Too much to swallow?
Greek mythology tells of a king who was punished by Zeus. Sisyphus was sentenced to an eternity of rolling a huge bolder uphill only to watch it roll down again. The frustrating and repetitive nature of this task resulted in the expression of Sisyphean meaning something that is pointless or unrewarding. We do not need to look to ancient times for such an analogy; we have a perfect equivalent in our own contemporary times. Replace that punished king with an average woman who falls within reproductive age and is considered infertile, and substitute that bolder for IVF procedures and there you have it; a ARThean Challenge. Continue reading Why? Why do we do this?
