Be warned: following is a long, rambling, possibly incoherent post by an emotionally fragile middle-aged woman struggling to cope with the shitty cards life has dealt her, most recently two biochemical pregnancies in a goddamn row. Oh, and it will probably contain several swear words.
We met with Dr No the other night, and while he had no answers he was excited that we'd gotten so close. I expected all doom and gloom and 'you should be considering donor eggs', etc, and so burst into tears almost as soon as I sat down. Damn stupid emotions. But instead he said he was pleased with my egg quality and fertilisation rates and recommended that we try again. He said he didn't consider me old, or unhealthy, or obese (come to Australia WordGirl, we might well be the fattest nation but we live happily in denial!). While I admit to being the heaviest I have ever been, I have tried IVF 10kg lighter and had no joy then either so I don't really think weight makes any difference.
It's so frustrating to not know why IVF isn't working. All of the tests are clear, and for all intents and purposes I am perfectly 'normal'. My eggs and embyro's look okay but obviously just turn to shit after blastocyst stage. Or maybe I just have the womb of doom, which kills anything that even attempts to implant. Either way, it completely and utterly sucks.
I have become aware in the last six months that IVF has overtaken my life. I live, breathe and sleep TTC and IVF. While I am not yet willing to give up blogging, I am attempting to reclaim my life in all other areas. I have gone back to work full time, resigned from the IVF support group, and even spilled the beans to my brothers. Sadly I think this is my way of preparing to stop the TTC battle. My life has been in a holding pattern for too long now, it can't continue. I am not living, I'm just existing until I have a baby. But I need to concede that it may never happen. As much as it makes me cry just to type that sentence. It's the truth. It has cost so much, financially, spiritually and emotionally. It's not fair on my husband. I. Need. To. Move. On.
But in typical Louise fashion, why make a decision today when it can be put off until tomorrow. I think that I need one more try to be able to tell myself that I did everything I could. Its such a momentous decision. I have to live with this forever. I have to be sure. Fuck. I'm so upset that I have to deal with this shit. Why can't I just be deciding on whether or not to get a fucking tattoo!