Trapped by treatment

No smoking, no drinking, no exercise or stretching when implantation might be taking place. No swimming. No nail varnish, hair dye or spray tans. Eat well. Keep your feet warm. You need to come in this Friday, or maybe Saturday. Then again on Tuesday, no, maybe Wednesday.

I’ve come to the conclusion that one of the main reasons I’m struggling with fertility treatment isn’t because I’m so desperate to hold my own baby. It’s that I’m desperate to get my life back. I’m tired of being told what I can and can’t do – admittedly I’m seeing a normal doctor and an acupuncturist so I’m trying to follow both East and Western medical advice so it is doubly complicated. And then there are my friends who have gone through it that offer me their advice too, and blogs and forums full of other people’s well intentioned tips. Why not just swaddle me like a baby and feed me what I need, I’m getting to the stage that that might be easier.

Feeling trapped is something I’ve never liked and all of this is perpetuating an already existing pet hate. I feel caged.

‘I want to break free’ – me too Freddie. I want a blowout night out. I want to get shitfaced. I want to go crazy – all of which I know full well I’m not going to do as a) it’s not me and b) it could jeopardise everything I’m working for. But I do want to do something. I used to be a bit of a daredevil when I was younger, always the first to jump – once out of a plane – but as the years have gone on I’ve become a bit milder and more aware of my mortality. Right now though I’m thinking about Wing Walking. I just want to feel exhilarated, I want to feel alive.

I don’t know if I will do it, my husband isn’t too keen on the idea unfortunately. But I am going to try something….


Positive attitude?

Just a quick one for now. I have been really worried about my inability to think positively about getting pregnant. I’m putting it down to me trying to protect myself in case it doesn’t work but I still feel guilty. I’ve even thought about seeing a hypnotherapist about it. But yesterday someone said something
very simple to me and I’m going to try to hold onto the moment of revelation I had then, rather than pick holes in the theory. She said, “People who don’t want to get pregnant get pregnant”. Which is true. I’m all for positive thinking and I will try, but if I struggle I’m not going to beat myself up. Biology will decide.


It’s been 9 months since I found out I was having a missed miscarriage, when we found out one of the embryos that had implanted itself miraculously inside my womb lining hadn’t grown passed 6 weeks. It was devastating, more so in some ways for my husband. He said he knew as soon as he saw the scan image. He must have felt so lonely. I was blissfully unaware for a few more split seconds. Come back in a week, take this leaflet and then we can decide how to proceed to get rid of the empty pregnancy sac. No need to worry it turns out, 5 days later I was in hospital miscarrying. It took a while to realise but I was glad I had had the warning at the scan. I can’t imagine how frightened I would have been if I had thought I was still pregnant. Three months off treatment, reading about grief, going on holiday – literally and from appointments, from being sober and all the things I couldn’t do for the few months prior due to treatment and pregnancy.

I think I thought I was fine. I had a few wobbles, especially when people close to me had babies (really close, two of my sisters). But overall I thought I was fine. I fully engrossed myself with my work, but that was nothing new. And then coming up to what would have been the due date everything started to unravel. I didn’t see it at the time, or for a while after but 4 weeks later, in a meeting, I let rip (as someone who is usually very in control this wasn’t a crazy wild loud letting rip – fortunately). But it was enough for me to realise something was wrong. Enough for my boss to realise something was wrong. I took a couple of days off and then went to the doctors to take a few more days off. It was bliss. Me, exercise, cleaning, cooking for my husband (the latter two I rarely do through choice). I really enjoyed having the time to look after him and myself rather than looking after my team at work. They had had too much of me for too long, I wanted to give something back at home, and I loved it.

I can’t say for definite that my minor breakdown was because of the miscarriage but I do think that there was a lot more going on subconsciously than I realised. Either way, it has brought everything to a bit of a head, I’m off work with stress and trying to work out what to do next.


We’ve been seeing people about our fertility issues since 2012. I could use the usual metaphors – it’s been a long road, a difficult journey – but you’ve likely heard them all before. Overall right now my description would be that it’s shit. All of it. I’m tired of it taking over our lives. We just want to get back to living.

Why am I here writing this? Well a few people suggested it, and everyone else seems to write a blog nowadays so why not give it a shot, it can’t hurt, can it?

So I find myself in a Costa writing on a not very exciting Word document. Not quite ready to go live just yet, I need to write a few posts before I commit the time to working out how to create an actual blog. Maybe just writing will help, maybe no one actually has to read it?

Ironically I’m surrounded by yummy mummies and their babies, joy. Here goes…