I don't like to swear on the blog, but...

by Bex

FML.

You don't want to read this.  It isn't a happy post and it is December which is supposed to be magical and full of Christmas cheer and miracles and you will not find any of those things here today.  I will be quite honest and say this is a selfish, woe-is-me, depressing post.  It is raw and emotional and therefore probably also crap writing.  I just had to get it out, this is what I do when I am sad.  (Come back tomorrow for pre-arranged Christmas jolliness if you like.)

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Today I just received the ultimate in bad news - yet another unexpected, unusual, rare problem which means we are rapidly losing the already fading hope that I will ever be pregnant.  You honestly couldn't make this up.  Everything we've been through and the fact that I just find it so hard to believe myself, that just one person can have so many different rare problems.  As much as I want to believe this will happen for us, and I know so many of you are trying to do this for me, I have always tried to remain realistic at each stage; knowing how low our chances are after each failed treatment and yet I've always been excited and hopeful that finally, finally our luck must change.  This just has to happen for us.  And yet, it really, really may not.  Ever.  Each time we have another plan and after all the waiting and feeling in limbo, I get so excited when something is happening only to be utterly deflated again as yet another attempt is unsuccessful.  Despite all the advice with the best intentions when people recommend certain things we can try, if they can't get embryos inside me then no amount of eating well, de-stressing, second opinions, acupuncture are ever going to help.  They are not going to change my anatomy.

I understand too much (being from a semi-medical background and married to a surgeon) to know that in our case with everything we have discovered this year, there will be no miraculous conception for us, however much we wish it.

Unless you have faced your biggest fear, having something you always took for granted (which in this case is basically how I thought I would be living 30s.  I was fully expecting to at least have a baby by now, if not a toddler!) suddenly being taken away from you, I don't think you can fully understand the feelings involved.  Not that you have to, like I said, I write about this just to get it out.   The family life I expected to be living by now is the biggest thing I thought I'd ever do and I have to accept it may not ever happen as expected.

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I have always lived and worked with the intention of one day being a mother, growing and bringing up children.  I can no longer watch Chandler's speech about Monica already being a "mother without a baby", when he pleads with Erica to let them adopt her baby, without being a complete blubbering wreck muttering "me too" like a pathetic child.  To have the possibility of getting pregnant slowly but surely diminish over a year has been something I really wasn't sure I could withstand.  And yet I have.  Each and every time something went wrong I kept going and I'm not ready to give up yet.

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I have periods, they get out, so there has to be a canal there.  It's not missing or blocked.  They just can't find it or get in it.  And since that's the only way for me to be pregnant, I can't say goodbye to the possibility yet that somehow they might manage.  They've said they might try again and just warn me of a higher chance of perforation (basically be more forceful) but risking a hysterectomy or infection is nothing since I won't ever be pregnant without this procedure anyway.  The thing is, the surgeon couldn't even see the way in.  My anatomy's all messed up.  It's not good when you surprise so many doctors.  I am the wrong kind of medical marvel.

http://youandmearefamily.com/clomid-im-coming-to-get-you/
I'm trying, I really am.

I am also fully aware that this is not the only way to be a mother.  I am not ready to face the alternative yet.  If this really is the end of the possibility of me ever carrying our child I will have to grieve for the baby I always assumed I would have, as a person always planning ahead and thinking of the future, that is something I've thought about in detail.  In fact when I was somewhat disappointed with our wedding photos (there's not really a good one of just Nik and I) I said to Nik that I was going to get a really good photographer to do a bump shoot when I got pregnant.  And when I visited friends with new babies, I would always think about when it would be my turn and how I couldn't wait to be a mother who would stand up to any judgemental breast feeding bitches out there, whether it was about feeding in public or not managing it at all.  Having read so much about these issues, I couldn't wait for my turn and I was going to be brave and stand up to them.  Not to mention all the fun stuff too.  I have already designed the nursery in my head (and on Pinterest) and have the fabric for baby bunting.  I have my old knitted baby clothes from when I was born, the cot my grandfather made for my dolls, the dress my Mum bought for Vikki's baby but liked too much to give away and is now stashed in my spare room wardrobe.  I imagined walking along with my bump discussing baby names with Nik in the park where we got married.  Going to pregnancy yoga, joining in with the Mummy friends and midnight sleepless tweets.  Tempting fate, perhaps.  I don't know what I believe anymore.

I remember when we first started trying to conceive and I wanted to avoid having a baby at the same time as year as my birthday (30th Dec).  I remember saying this to Gemma as I always moan about my birthday and how so many people can never celebrate with me and I wouldn't want the same for my child and we actually stopped trying for a couple of months.  And I remember she said to me "be careful what you wish for" and I've never forgotten it.  And she was right.  If I never have a baby then it will never be an issue.

If we adopt in the future (and it will have to be in the future since we're probably moving this summer for Nik's job so can't start the process yet anyway), there will still be things I miss out on.  The bump photos, watching it grow, maternity shopping, that coming home from the hospital feeling of oh, shit what do we do now, the newborn photos, naming ceremony, excited tweets, having my own (potentially horrific yet amazing) labour story, breast feeding (even though I'm scared I'll hate it), baby shopping for all the bath bits, clothes, nappies, Sophie the giraffe...

I know all this because I have seen so many people experience these things, a lot of them recently.  I've been trying to be patient for my turn but it would be so much easier if I knew it would eventually BE my turn.  I currently know at least 9 people who are currently pregnant or have just had babies.  Some of them closer than others.  This makes me sound awful but it's not easy being happy for them.  I am happy for them, I don't want anyone else to go through what we are but it can be very difficult to see everyone else's happiness while being unable to think of my own which may never come.  I don't want to feel like this.  I want to be able to enjoy this time with them and on occasions I can, like when I went shopping for maternity clothes with Roz last week.  But it's so often hard.

We're not the only ones who are going through this.  I am aware that I am not a special case.  But this is how I feel right now.  It's mainly the fear of losing everything I never had.  Which sounds ridiculous.  I am fed up.  I have had enough.  I just want to go to sleep and wake up in 2014.  Which could quite possibly turn out worse than 2013 but I'm running out of energy.  I'm starting to wonder if it just isn't meant to be.

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I do want to just say thank you again to everyone who via Twitter/email/phone/text/flowers has been supporting me yesterday and today when I suddenly found out yesterday morning that this was going to happen today and I was so excited to get one step closer.  And then when the nerves hit this morning before my GA.  And when I got the news that we've failed yet again to get any closer to being parents.  This one has been the most difficult so far in that we're getting to the end of our options, although I have cried the least today.  I think I'm beginning to expect the worst after all of our experiences throughout the year and as much as I hate to be that person, I can't help but lose some optimism.  So thank you.  For believing for me, for the love and for being my friends.  I'm sorry I've not been such a good one this year.