As Mr L's appointment approached, I have felt myself falling into an abject state of fear. Lots of panic attacks and behaving strangely- I talk really fast and my arms and legs get a really fizzy sensation. Bloody cortisol! I entirely screwed up a lesson observation but my head said that he wanted me to do for him... either way, he bought me chocolates and said he'd rip it up, thankfully. Just struggling to stay sane. As I said at the weekend, everything sets me off at the moment- new baby announcements, baby shoes, prams, bumps, baby shampoo commercials.
I was a proper bag of nerves this morning. Wriggling on my chair like a naughty child waiting to see the dentist. Gasping for breaths, sighing like a damsel in distress. Horrible. Really, really horrible. It wasn't an easy appointment. Especially since we think we will have a go at PGD. Mr L isn't sure if we will get funding for it as it is still so new but I can't bear the thought of being 40 and thinking, "Why didn't we have a go?" As previously addressed, when you adopt, there are bits that you miss out on.
It is scary. Lots of jabs- not that I'm scared of injections- just hate bruises!!! No definite baby outcome. Got to have a go though.
PGD is no definite baby. To be completely honest, all it could possibly be is a faster way of creating a child than naturally. It doesn't improve the outcome just the odds in that you have to go through the IVF bit of artificially producing eggs by over stimulating the ovaries. Realistically, there is a chance that every single one of those eggs could be completely buggered (or more scientifically, have really wonky chromosomes) and whilst they will create embryos, they won't create babies. We're looking at about 18% of the embryos either being normal* (*spits afternoon glass of wine across the laptop) or balanced chromosomally. The thing it can offer is reduced losses and as there is no question as to my ability to actually carry a baby, we're looking at good odds at having a "live birth".
Can you imagine a normal baby? One without a chromosomal problem that doesn't directly affect them until they try to have babies themselves. Seems bizarre but even as writing this, I guess for the majority of people that is a given. Believe me, I truly believe that there can be very little worse than finding out that there is no reason for infertility and I am glad that both Guys hospital and my parents were honest with me about the wonky chromosomes and hey, I got off lightly with only one pair, not both sets. It is hard though, imagining starting your adult life without this dark cloud of recurrent miscarriages hanging over your head.
So, fingers crossed that the NHS give us a go before we have to sell the puppy.
Mr L said that we would still keep a rolling appointment going until the day comes where I can ring him and say that I am pregnant and ready to start some happier appointments. Poor man, I barely stepped inside his room before I wept! Let's hope that day comes. I really believe that 2014 has to be better than 2013. 2012 was utterly kickass but 2013 has sucked my soul out through my nose. 2014 is where it will be. Either the start of IVF or the start of adoption papers. Maybe on some other astral plane, even a natural baby to fluke life right out of the water!
Tuesday 22 October 2013
Saturday 19 October 2013
Why does my heart feel so bad?
To quote a Manics lyric: I look to the future, it makes me cry.
P showed me the photo he has as the lock screen on his phone (yes, the replacement for the third- and here's hoping, final- phone). It's a picture from our honeymoon, the first night in New York, in our hotel room where I am doing an impression of Nick from New Girl - "Freeze frame! When I'm up in the air and the legs are up there!" This is it...
So you can look at this photo and be hit by the fact that my husband organised a kick-ass honeymoon- starting with Christmas in New York! Oh yes, we did the horse and cart through Central Park, the Empire State building and all that jazz, in New York. At Christmas. It was an amazing holiday- we fell in love with San Francisco and relaxed in Hawaii.The other way to look at this photo is the fact that I had miscarried for the third time two weeks before this photo was taken and somewhere between San Francisco and Hawaii, I fell pregnant again... only to miscarry, again.
I hate this photo and every other photo taken of me this year as it dates to either being pregnant or miscarrying. All the photos from my best friend's wedding, the photos from the honeymoon, photos from 2013 in general are all reminders of how shit things have been!
It's funny when reading back in the blog and seeing how bumps used to make me sad but babies didn't and how the bitterness has now moved on from seeing babies to seeing baby clothes. It was all I could do today to not howl in the middle of M&S on seeing a tiny pinafore dress and stripey t-shirt. The analogy of baby crack could not be more accurate- how something starts as being wanted and ends up being needed. Hearing a couple discussing the Father Christmas key that they would hide under grandma's door mat as she didn't have a chimney for him to come down for their young child. Urgh. My body felt like it had been struck by the flu- a dull ache in every bone in my body.
The thing is, not being able to have a baby doesn't just affect P and me. There are our friends, siblings, parents and grandparents who want someone new to add to the family. There is an immutable pressure that comes after getting married- everyone looks for that moment when you say no thank you to the alcohol or a little bit queasy. The worst part is knowing that it might never happen. They might never get a biological grandchild.
We have started thinking very seriously about adoption. It is hard saying goodbye to all the things that we won't get to experience though:
P showed me the photo he has as the lock screen on his phone (yes, the replacement for the third- and here's hoping, final- phone). It's a picture from our honeymoon, the first night in New York, in our hotel room where I am doing an impression of Nick from New Girl - "Freeze frame! When I'm up in the air and the legs are up there!" This is it...
I hate this photo and every other photo taken of me this year as it dates to either being pregnant or miscarrying. All the photos from my best friend's wedding, the photos from the honeymoon, photos from 2013 in general are all reminders of how shit things have been!
It's funny when reading back in the blog and seeing how bumps used to make me sad but babies didn't and how the bitterness has now moved on from seeing babies to seeing baby clothes. It was all I could do today to not howl in the middle of M&S on seeing a tiny pinafore dress and stripey t-shirt. The analogy of baby crack could not be more accurate- how something starts as being wanted and ends up being needed. Hearing a couple discussing the Father Christmas key that they would hide under grandma's door mat as she didn't have a chimney for him to come down for their young child. Urgh. My body felt like it had been struck by the flu- a dull ache in every bone in my body.
The thing is, not being able to have a baby doesn't just affect P and me. There are our friends, siblings, parents and grandparents who want someone new to add to the family. There is an immutable pressure that comes after getting married- everyone looks for that moment when you say no thank you to the alcohol or a little bit queasy. The worst part is knowing that it might never happen. They might never get a biological grandchild.
We have started thinking very seriously about adoption. It is hard saying goodbye to all the things that we won't get to experience though:
- Seeing our baby on an ultrasound screen.
- Hearing its heartbeat loud and clear.
- Watching my belly grow.
- The initial cry and new baby placed on my chest.
- A minimum of the first six weeks (children don't tend to be adopted before this.)
- Finding out what a mini P or me would look like.
These are big things and letting them go is hard. It just doesn't seem fair. Surely this happens to other people?
Also there is a terrible hanging in limbo- do we dare to make future plans? P keeps trying to start conversations with me about where we want to be in the future. Drunkenly, we have narrowed it down to San Francisco or in the pretty Mews houses in Greenwich. P mentioned that he wanted to have a serious chat about what we want to do and get ourselves organised so that things actually happen. I can't. The future currently fills me with so much dread that living day to day is the easiest thing to do. We also have an appointment with Mr L on Tuesday- it's been held in my head that it is the day when we make a decision about the next steps. P tried to have a conversation with me about it, about whether we go for the adoption 100%. I can't seem to form a sensible view on it.
It's almost half term though and there is a bottle of wine to be drunk!
Monday 14 October 2013
What if God was one of us?
I saw this on Facebook this morning:
So it is baby loss awareness week- from the 9th to the 15th of October. Everyone is meant to light a candle for the pregnancies or babies they have lost. One of the words used within this context is that these lost babies are angels. So what about those of us who don't really believe that they are angels? As you fan see from the previous posts, it's not that I don't feel the loss of my babies keenly, rather that I struggle to believe that there is anymore than this life on Earth.
Sometimes I wish I could as I can see how it gives people a real sense of a reason to be and a meaning in the seemingly meaningless. When you are struggling with the why, there's this parental type figure saying that there is a reason for your suffering, that you will be rewarded richly in heaven. As a person who believes that you shouldn't be restricted to believing there is anything more than this life , it is sometimes made harder by the group mentality of our lost pregnancies are babies in heaven. Whilst I realise that this is not only comforting but a real belief for some people, I really struggle with it. For a start, how do they look as if they didn't make it through the full nine months, are they probably hugely disfigured or are they just shaped in the promise of what they could have been? Mine, apart from one, have been lost pretty early so are they still fetus shaped or are they proper baby shaped? Maybe it just depends on your definition of what heaven is and what form you take when you arrive there.
As for raising awareness, you have to be careful- no, I'm not a miserable anti-charity person! You have to make sure that raising awareness doesn't just become pinkified, in the way that breast cancer awareness has- pink wellies anyone? There was this brilliant piece written about exactly the point where charity becomes inane and the cause loses its meaning. Of course, lighting a candle is synonymous with loss across religions. My family is a real hodge podge of beliefs- my Dad's side are Muslim and Catholic (yes, seriously!) and my Mum's are CoE. Her side isn't churchy and when there is a funeral, it is a celebration of life. To me, candles are not so tied in with death but with birthday parties- a celebration of life. When it comes to lighting a candle for a lost pregnancy, is it a celebration?
To me it's a failure of something that should be innate. Even the term "lost" a pregnancy places the failure even deeper. It's my problem that is causing the losses. What is to celebrate there?
Anyway, positives! My first smear in about a million years came back normal! Hooray- something going right with my body! I do have to go for another in about six months to make sure that everything is fine but thank goodness things are going right in one area!
Oh and P spoke. He said that it was starting to make him feel awkward when people asked him when it was going to be his turn to be a dad. A whole load of people are having babies in the various offices and schools he works in and they are all wondering when it's going to be his turn. In fact, one of his bosses asked when I was due as wasn't it soon? He obviously didn't realise that when P took the day off, it wasn't for a happy event like a scan, but rather an ERPC. I was so happy to finally hear him talk about how it was affecting him. Normally it is that, "I'm here for you. I love you." rather than a heartfelt exchange so I hope this is how things will continue now.
It is getting awkward. People who don't know are asking and how do you answer? Do you answer honestly and brutally? "We are struggling to have a baby. We keep getting pregnant but it doesn't last long." This is the way that I have dealt with it so far and maybe I should be a little less blunt as no one wants to hear that. It happens to other people, not people that you know. Maybe we should try switching the topic or comment that really asking when someone is going to have kids is quite a personal comment. Or perhaps, I could just fall back on my other phrase- "I have 29 kids, why would I need anymore?"
I do though. We both do.
So it is baby loss awareness week- from the 9th to the 15th of October. Everyone is meant to light a candle for the pregnancies or babies they have lost. One of the words used within this context is that these lost babies are angels. So what about those of us who don't really believe that they are angels? As you fan see from the previous posts, it's not that I don't feel the loss of my babies keenly, rather that I struggle to believe that there is anymore than this life on Earth.
Sometimes I wish I could as I can see how it gives people a real sense of a reason to be and a meaning in the seemingly meaningless. When you are struggling with the why, there's this parental type figure saying that there is a reason for your suffering, that you will be rewarded richly in heaven. As a person who believes that you shouldn't be restricted to believing there is anything more than this life , it is sometimes made harder by the group mentality of our lost pregnancies are babies in heaven. Whilst I realise that this is not only comforting but a real belief for some people, I really struggle with it. For a start, how do they look as if they didn't make it through the full nine months, are they probably hugely disfigured or are they just shaped in the promise of what they could have been? Mine, apart from one, have been lost pretty early so are they still fetus shaped or are they proper baby shaped? Maybe it just depends on your definition of what heaven is and what form you take when you arrive there.
As for raising awareness, you have to be careful- no, I'm not a miserable anti-charity person! You have to make sure that raising awareness doesn't just become pinkified, in the way that breast cancer awareness has- pink wellies anyone? There was this brilliant piece written about exactly the point where charity becomes inane and the cause loses its meaning. Of course, lighting a candle is synonymous with loss across religions. My family is a real hodge podge of beliefs- my Dad's side are Muslim and Catholic (yes, seriously!) and my Mum's are CoE. Her side isn't churchy and when there is a funeral, it is a celebration of life. To me, candles are not so tied in with death but with birthday parties- a celebration of life. When it comes to lighting a candle for a lost pregnancy, is it a celebration?
To me it's a failure of something that should be innate. Even the term "lost" a pregnancy places the failure even deeper. It's my problem that is causing the losses. What is to celebrate there?
Anyway, positives! My first smear in about a million years came back normal! Hooray- something going right with my body! I do have to go for another in about six months to make sure that everything is fine but thank goodness things are going right in one area!
Oh and P spoke. He said that it was starting to make him feel awkward when people asked him when it was going to be his turn to be a dad. A whole load of people are having babies in the various offices and schools he works in and they are all wondering when it's going to be his turn. In fact, one of his bosses asked when I was due as wasn't it soon? He obviously didn't realise that when P took the day off, it wasn't for a happy event like a scan, but rather an ERPC. I was so happy to finally hear him talk about how it was affecting him. Normally it is that, "I'm here for you. I love you." rather than a heartfelt exchange so I hope this is how things will continue now.
It is getting awkward. People who don't know are asking and how do you answer? Do you answer honestly and brutally? "We are struggling to have a baby. We keep getting pregnant but it doesn't last long." This is the way that I have dealt with it so far and maybe I should be a little less blunt as no one wants to hear that. It happens to other people, not people that you know. Maybe we should try switching the topic or comment that really asking when someone is going to have kids is quite a personal comment. Or perhaps, I could just fall back on my other phrase- "I have 29 kids, why would I need anymore?"
I do though. We both do.
Sunday 13 October 2013
Am I going crazy?
Apologies about the last post. I was and still am a bit distressed.
I think the main reason that I was so upset about that pregnancy loss was that I saw the pregnancy on the ultrasound- it felt like there was a chance of a real baby. The others have only resulted in positives and Pregnant x - y weeks- nothing more than a few cells that might have turned into babies if they weren't so broken.Goddamn genes...
I feel very caught between at the moment- definitely in that rock and a hard place at the moment! We have our next appointment on the 22nd of October with our Gynae doctor. I don't know if you do the same but I try to prepare what I am going to say before I am in that situation- good old panic! I've had various versions of the conversation- it not only words things but it also makes me think about what my reaction would be should those words come out of my mouth.
Same beginning part to each scenario:
Me: Hi Mr L!
P: Hi I'm P, Sarah's husband. We met at the ERPC back in April.
Mr L: Hi, how are you both? How have things been going?
Me: Had another early one at the beginning of September, in the middle of a field in Rye.
Mr L: Oh I'm sorry.
Me: Yeah, a bit on the rubbish side of things.
Mr L: How far along were you?
Me: Six weeks tops. Just about to call you to get the wheels in motion.
Mr L: How many is that now?
Me: Five.
Mr L: What would you like to do?
P: I want to be tested to make sure that there is nothing wrong on my side. Then we can make a decision based on that.
This is the interesting part...
Scenario 1:
Me: Spontaneously combust and my ashes be used for roses. Never been able to keep a plant alive in life, perhaps I could do in death?
OK, that's not a real one.
Scenario 2:
Mr L: There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, P. Just very unlucky with the pregnancies you've had, Sarah.
(P and I look at each other nervously)
Me: Ok, we haven't been trying for long. Perhaps we could try naturally for a bit longer?
Mr L: Ok, get in touch with me when you are six weeks along, like we discussed last time.
Scenario 3:
Mr L: There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, P. Just very unlucky with the pregnancies you've had, Sarah.
Me and P: We've decided that this is a whole heap of shit that we don't need to be going through and have decided to go for adoption as there are so many kids out there that we could give an awesome life to.
Mr L: Amazing choice to make- glad you are going for this. As I said back in April, you will make wonderful parents and this is a far more reliable method of having a child.
Scenario 4:
Mr L: There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, P. Just very unlucky with the pregnancies you've had, Sarah.
Me&P: We've had enough of this crap. We've decided that we'll have a shot at PGD.
Mr L: Ok, I'll get the wheels in motion with Guys then.
Scenario 5:
Mr L: There is something wrong with you, P.
Me & P: Ok, sod this shit, we're off to adopt.
So as you can see, we are erring on the side of adoption. It's scary though because it is basically saying, I am never going to experience the full nine months of being pregnant or giving birth. I am not going to breastfeed (I know that you can but I think there is definitely something for bottle feeding- first thought, wine and second thought, dads getting to bond with baby at 2am.). It's funny, it wasn't until I took Max for walk in the rain that it sunk in. My family have been adopting animals since I was 2. Some of them from puppies/kittens and some of them from pretty much old age. There's also the fact that in being a teacher, I get to play at being parents from 08:55 to 15:30 and longer when it's a school journey. The other day, I was walking up the road alongside school when secondary school blazered arms were thrown around me with a shriek of, "Mrs L!" It was from a child who I taught three years ago who is now in a local secondary school. Must be doing something right if they felt comfortable enough to do that in front of their big school friends! At school, we have an end of term talent show and in the years that it's happened, whilst the rest of school have sung and danced, my class...? Well, they have put on these Monty Pythonesque sketches- it has been noticed by quite a few members of staff that they feel confident enough to be daft in front of a crowd. The sketches are becoming more abstract the more years I've been there... There are so many kids throughout the school who I would love to take home and give them a bit of love and attention! So I'm not frightened of adoption, just scared of how I will create some sort of peace with myself with the fact that I'm not going to get to experience some of the parts of being a woman.
Or do we have a go at PGD?
I've had a look at counselling but my goodness, it's a lot of moolah! In fact, I had a look at the people who do specialist fertility counselling because you need a specialist not just some cover all. The page that I looked at had someone one in the same borough. It was like it was meant to be but then I saw the price...£55 for an hour session! A minimum of six session GAHHHHH!!!!
Maybe we could just get another puppy?
I think the main reason that I was so upset about that pregnancy loss was that I saw the pregnancy on the ultrasound- it felt like there was a chance of a real baby. The others have only resulted in positives and Pregnant x - y weeks- nothing more than a few cells that might have turned into babies if they weren't so broken.Goddamn genes...
I feel very caught between at the moment- definitely in that rock and a hard place at the moment! We have our next appointment on the 22nd of October with our Gynae doctor. I don't know if you do the same but I try to prepare what I am going to say before I am in that situation- good old panic! I've had various versions of the conversation- it not only words things but it also makes me think about what my reaction would be should those words come out of my mouth.
Same beginning part to each scenario:
Me: Hi Mr L!
P: Hi I'm P, Sarah's husband. We met at the ERPC back in April.
Mr L: Hi, how are you both? How have things been going?
Me: Had another early one at the beginning of September, in the middle of a field in Rye.
Mr L: Oh I'm sorry.
Me: Yeah, a bit on the rubbish side of things.
Mr L: How far along were you?
Me: Six weeks tops. Just about to call you to get the wheels in motion.
Mr L: How many is that now?
Me: Five.
Mr L: What would you like to do?
P: I want to be tested to make sure that there is nothing wrong on my side. Then we can make a decision based on that.
This is the interesting part...
Scenario 1:
Me: Spontaneously combust and my ashes be used for roses. Never been able to keep a plant alive in life, perhaps I could do in death?
OK, that's not a real one.
Scenario 2:
Mr L: There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, P. Just very unlucky with the pregnancies you've had, Sarah.
(P and I look at each other nervously)
Me: Ok, we haven't been trying for long. Perhaps we could try naturally for a bit longer?
Mr L: Ok, get in touch with me when you are six weeks along, like we discussed last time.
Scenario 3:
Mr L: There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, P. Just very unlucky with the pregnancies you've had, Sarah.
Me and P: We've decided that this is a whole heap of shit that we don't need to be going through and have decided to go for adoption as there are so many kids out there that we could give an awesome life to.
Mr L: Amazing choice to make- glad you are going for this. As I said back in April, you will make wonderful parents and this is a far more reliable method of having a child.
Scenario 4:
Mr L: There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, P. Just very unlucky with the pregnancies you've had, Sarah.
Me&P: We've had enough of this crap. We've decided that we'll have a shot at PGD.
Mr L: Ok, I'll get the wheels in motion with Guys then.
Scenario 5:
Mr L: There is something wrong with you, P.
Me & P: Ok, sod this shit, we're off to adopt.
So as you can see, we are erring on the side of adoption. It's scary though because it is basically saying, I am never going to experience the full nine months of being pregnant or giving birth. I am not going to breastfeed (I know that you can but I think there is definitely something for bottle feeding- first thought, wine and second thought, dads getting to bond with baby at 2am.). It's funny, it wasn't until I took Max for walk in the rain that it sunk in. My family have been adopting animals since I was 2. Some of them from puppies/kittens and some of them from pretty much old age. There's also the fact that in being a teacher, I get to play at being parents from 08:55 to 15:30 and longer when it's a school journey. The other day, I was walking up the road alongside school when secondary school blazered arms were thrown around me with a shriek of, "Mrs L!" It was from a child who I taught three years ago who is now in a local secondary school. Must be doing something right if they felt comfortable enough to do that in front of their big school friends! At school, we have an end of term talent show and in the years that it's happened, whilst the rest of school have sung and danced, my class...? Well, they have put on these Monty Pythonesque sketches- it has been noticed by quite a few members of staff that they feel confident enough to be daft in front of a crowd. The sketches are becoming more abstract the more years I've been there... There are so many kids throughout the school who I would love to take home and give them a bit of love and attention! So I'm not frightened of adoption, just scared of how I will create some sort of peace with myself with the fact that I'm not going to get to experience some of the parts of being a woman.
Or do we have a go at PGD?
I've had a look at counselling but my goodness, it's a lot of moolah! In fact, I had a look at the people who do specialist fertility counselling because you need a specialist not just some cover all. The page that I looked at had someone one in the same borough. It was like it was meant to be but then I saw the price...£55 for an hour session! A minimum of six session GAHHHHH!!!!
Maybe we could just get another puppy?
Tuesday 8 October 2013
Haven't we said goodbye before?
Today has been really bloody tough. Like epic scale tough. I know a lot of you hate it when I'm low and blog but it's better than me turning to drink, drugs or old methods of coping.
It was an ok day to begin with- nothing particularly untoward. Non-spectacular entrance into school, nothing wrong with the buses and didn't have to stop off at Tesco, which makes a change. The tie dye efforts of the kids were still tied to the fence to dry so I undid those before nosy fingers snuck a sneaky peek. I did the first one with bare hands so by the second, I had strangely smurf like hands, which bemused the school for the rest of the day (my new haircut having done the same the day before- too many changes!) As a school., we are all reading Little Mouse's Big Book of Fears and my year group partner and I felt that we should address some of the children's worries and fears by creating worry dolls (out of wooden dolly pegs) and a drawstring bag for them-hence the tie dye! The dramas involved with procuring the material and then the constant remaking/ throwing out of mouldy vegetable dyes, I won't go into now but the kids were pretty impressed by the results of our chemical dyes which made it all worth it.
The morning was spent going through our trip in the afternoon, finding adults to walk with and then the usual teaching bits until maths. I won't go into what happened in maths as it isn't my story to tell, needless to say it was incredibly sad and horrible.
After spending lunch hunting for bottles of water and cups for the kids who hadn't brought a water bottle, and the afternoon at a local secondary school where the kids played sports all afternoon, we trekked back in the unseasonably warm October weather and arrived back just at the end of the school day. Just as I opened the door, one of the children squealed that child A's baby sister was out in the playground. This is my colleague's child. The one who was due about a week after my fourth miscarriage.
Just seeing the pram ripped me into pieces. Luckily most of the children had already gone home- there was one child who was quickly sent to lates and the other was my TA's daughter. The pain of my missing baby just hit me like a juggernaut to the chest. The missing baby, who I saw on that ultrasound and I should be to cuddle now. That bloody unfairness that someone else gets their baby and I don't. How many more miscarriages do I have ahead of me? How many more times do I have to watch woman after woman get pregnant, have a bump and then get the baby at the end of it? It should be something that I as a woman am able to do. I should be able to keep a pregnancy for more than ten weeks without it fucking dying on me and for someone who is otherwise reasonably fit and healthy, I should be to carry at least one pregnancy all the way through to the end. Not lose five pregnancies. Five possible babies.
I am terrified of not trying for even a month just in case that is the month that we could possibly get our baby. What if that was the month where we would have a chance of having a baby? It feels like an addiction that I am eating,breathing and sleeping. The only escape is work and that is not even getting 100% of my attention. It's swallowing me whole right now and I'm so angry. I am so angry that there are so many people out there like me who want to be able to congratulate people on a new baby without thinking when is it going to be my turn? Will it ever be my turn? People keep saying that it will happen but right now it really doesn't feel that way.
My best friend rang me this evening and it was so good to hear her voice. She made a comment when she came to see the new house that it was the first time in a long time that she had seen me seem so normal. I'm fighting the crazy right now and desperate to stay sane but it's hard. Really bloody hard. When P came home, I told him what had happened, both about the maths lesson and then sat cross legged on the floor with Max flopping around my knees, desperate to sit on my lap. I sat there and wept whilst P sat on the stairs, not quite knowing what to do. That's the problem, there is nothing we can do.
Tomorrow is another day.
It was an ok day to begin with- nothing particularly untoward. Non-spectacular entrance into school, nothing wrong with the buses and didn't have to stop off at Tesco, which makes a change. The tie dye efforts of the kids were still tied to the fence to dry so I undid those before nosy fingers snuck a sneaky peek. I did the first one with bare hands so by the second, I had strangely smurf like hands, which bemused the school for the rest of the day (my new haircut having done the same the day before- too many changes!) As a school., we are all reading Little Mouse's Big Book of Fears and my year group partner and I felt that we should address some of the children's worries and fears by creating worry dolls (out of wooden dolly pegs) and a drawstring bag for them-hence the tie dye! The dramas involved with procuring the material and then the constant remaking/ throwing out of mouldy vegetable dyes, I won't go into now but the kids were pretty impressed by the results of our chemical dyes which made it all worth it.
The morning was spent going through our trip in the afternoon, finding adults to walk with and then the usual teaching bits until maths. I won't go into what happened in maths as it isn't my story to tell, needless to say it was incredibly sad and horrible.
After spending lunch hunting for bottles of water and cups for the kids who hadn't brought a water bottle, and the afternoon at a local secondary school where the kids played sports all afternoon, we trekked back in the unseasonably warm October weather and arrived back just at the end of the school day. Just as I opened the door, one of the children squealed that child A's baby sister was out in the playground. This is my colleague's child. The one who was due about a week after my fourth miscarriage.
Just seeing the pram ripped me into pieces. Luckily most of the children had already gone home- there was one child who was quickly sent to lates and the other was my TA's daughter. The pain of my missing baby just hit me like a juggernaut to the chest. The missing baby, who I saw on that ultrasound and I should be to cuddle now. That bloody unfairness that someone else gets their baby and I don't. How many more miscarriages do I have ahead of me? How many more times do I have to watch woman after woman get pregnant, have a bump and then get the baby at the end of it? It should be something that I as a woman am able to do. I should be able to keep a pregnancy for more than ten weeks without it fucking dying on me and for someone who is otherwise reasonably fit and healthy, I should be to carry at least one pregnancy all the way through to the end. Not lose five pregnancies. Five possible babies.
I am terrified of not trying for even a month just in case that is the month that we could possibly get our baby. What if that was the month where we would have a chance of having a baby? It feels like an addiction that I am eating,breathing and sleeping. The only escape is work and that is not even getting 100% of my attention. It's swallowing me whole right now and I'm so angry. I am so angry that there are so many people out there like me who want to be able to congratulate people on a new baby without thinking when is it going to be my turn? Will it ever be my turn? People keep saying that it will happen but right now it really doesn't feel that way.
My best friend rang me this evening and it was so good to hear her voice. She made a comment when she came to see the new house that it was the first time in a long time that she had seen me seem so normal. I'm fighting the crazy right now and desperate to stay sane but it's hard. Really bloody hard. When P came home, I told him what had happened, both about the maths lesson and then sat cross legged on the floor with Max flopping around my knees, desperate to sit on my lap. I sat there and wept whilst P sat on the stairs, not quite knowing what to do. That's the problem, there is nothing we can do.
Tomorrow is another day.
Monday 7 October 2013
Do you remember the first time?
What a tune!
So P and I got married exactly one year and one week ago. It was the most perfect wedding that you could ever imagine. Truly.
There was the tiniest bit of drama in the lead up- I lost the table plan cards, Paul ordered more but they weren't ever delivered (well we think they were but the evil witch living in P mum's and dad's old flat threw them away). So the day before, I ran around with my mum buying wedding-y coloured card and the world's strongest glue that ended up burning through my freshly painted nails! My mates D and K, my brohter's girlfriend and my mum were meant to be having a chilled night with a take away but we didn't end up going to bed until after midnight after me finishing the table plan at 11pm!
The following morning was pretty dreamlike. The week before had done nothing but be overcast, drizzly and grey and as the weather was one thing that I couldn't control or change, I refused to look at the forecast. No one was to tell me what the weather was going to be like either...Haha! Someone at work, entirely harmlessly shouted across the staffroom that it was going to be sunny at the weekend. Despite rage frothing, I donned my serene bride face and thanked her
As my mum was having her hair done that morning, we headed off to Eltham for her to have pretty Mother-of-the-Bride hair sorted and me to have my nails repaired. There was another lady having her hair done in the nails place whose daughter was getting married the same day and a lady who was sharing the same wedding day! The hairdresser/nail place is just down the road from Demelza House, a children's hospice. Just before my nails were finished a tiny birdlike lady came in carrying a child of probably about ten years old to have his hair cut. It was very sobering to see such a juxtaposition of three women celebrating one big day and a woman who was taking each day as it comes.
After that, everything passed in a bit of a blur... probably due to the amount of prosecco drunk and the usual whirl of photographers, videographers, hair and make up.
Sarah + Paul from Mark W Brown on Vimeo.
This was our day in a nutshell. Pretty epic really. Yes, that is the seating from the Olympics in the background!
The thing is a wedding is just one day: whether Paul and I had got married or not, we would still have a strong relationship. Sometimes that closeness slips when you live together. You're always there and things don't get talked about. The deep and meaningful, the inside jokes get replaced by conversations of what to have for dinner, whose turn it is to take the puppy out or whether we've remembered to feed the cats. It has been a while since we were able to spend some time where it was just the two of us and it hasn't been in a hospital or at a doctors.
We did during our anniversary, with a lot of alcohol, two chance meetings with a random grandson of James Hunt and a trip back to the restaurant where we had our first date. P pointed at the coffee place where I suggested we had a coffee before the date to see if I could stand being around him... There was a bottle of champagne waiting for us and we also had a very pregnant front of house member of staff waiting on us. The ultimate irony...
I think I upset P the night before when we were sitting in our favourite pub and I said that it hadn't been the happiest of years but not due to him. I truly am very lucky to have such an awesome husband who I quite like being around. He had hurt me a little when he had made a comment about how we hadn't tried for very long, which is true. It has only been a year but we've lost three pregnancies in the time that we've been trying! Three pregnancies! Two before we were even trying and then three when we put the effort in! It has been a really tough year- dealing with psycho neighbours, buying our first place together but I am glad that he is there, still grumbling at the world with me. Despite that comment, I mentioned that I wanted him to start making decisions rather than always saying he just wants what is right for me. So he said that he wants to be tested to check that there is nothing at his end that could possibly be causing any issues. It would make the path so much clearer- either that we decide to adopt if everything is going a bit too wrong to consider anything else or that we try again if things are just bad on my end.
Main thing that I've learnt from our anniversary weekend is that I must make sure that P and I really spend time together where he's not on a Gooners website and I'm not playing Sims. We need to make time to talk more as otherwise we'll end up just with a pretty video and some wonderful photos and not a lot else. We have got an awful lot and we should celebrate it daily and not just when the big days come around!
Tuesday 1 October 2013
Will you call me sweetheart?
It's my due date today for my fourth miscarriage. I realised whilst on the bus as it indicated left at the Co-op. P and I once saw a girl having proper relationship drama in the middle of Waterloo East Station, sobbing into her mobile and even though we were a platform away, we could hear every word. The judgmental side of her being drunk and caterwauling kicked in and I looked away...I was so worried that people were thinking that of me as I wept a few tears on the 386 bus. Thing is, I didn't know the full story of the girl and the people on the bus don't know mine so I probably just seemed like a typical bus oddity.
I've had a post in my head for a few days. It's a letter:
To my baby,
Note those first three words. Whether you are brand new, eight years old or eighty five, you are still my baby. Whether you are biologically your Daddy's and mine, just your Daddy's or adopted, you are still our baby.
Although, I was never really one for dolls as a child or even cooing over other people's babies as an adult, I have always wanted a "you". As soon as your Daddy and I met, and realised that we had something pretty special, I imagined us with you. I imagined your noise and the lost dinky socks (matching socks is not one of my specialties as you know. Chances are Max might have eaten them now that we have him.) I knew from the word go that Daddy and I would make pretty kickass parents, despite the socks issue, and would love you with our whole hearts.
There have been some imperfect versions of you along the way. I'd like to make an analogy between an artist making sketches before the creation of the perfect but you know me, I don't lie to children. Daddy and I tried to have you for not terribly long but we suffered a lot of loss in that little time. Five pregnancies at the time of publishing. Obviously, at this moment, I don't know how this plays out- whether Daddy and I decide to give it one more go, whether we change our minds about IVF or whether we adopt you. Hey right now, you know something that I don't know as of the 1st of October 2013! What I do know, is that I already love you, I have always loved you and I will always love you.
I know that you probably feel quite suffocated by my love- like you can't breathe without me knowing about it. Believe me, when Daddy and I lived in a middle floor flat with Jezzie and Harley, and a friend suggested about them going outside; I got a throbbing head and had a mini breakdown over it. I dread to think what I will be like with you...In the last few weeks, I have managed to let the cats go outside. They are now aged four, which is about 28 in human years, so you might get to leave the house without an adult accompanying you by the time you are thirty.
You probably hate your room that I have spent hours mentally decorating in John Lewis or dreaming over on a hidden Pintrest board (it will be based around famous children's books). You probably turn out to be a Spurs fan despite your father's allegiance to Arsenal and hate cricket (it takes time to love it but when you're big enough, the alcohol numbs the dull bits). There are likely to be tantrums over the endless music lessons and sports training- sorry Bubba, you've got to have more than one string to your bow!
It's probably a given that you will be embarrassed by my bad dancing and singing the wrong words to songs on the radio. Daddy can't quite hold a tune either. We share an exceptionally good taste in music though. We both find ourselves very funny as well, which will cripple you socially as a teenager. Just refer to Philip Larkin 's "This Be The Verse" whilst you are locked away in your bedroom and remember that you are not alone.
The one thing that I am utterly sure of is that you either already exist or will exist.
Your Daddy and I can't wait to meet you. (Max will be delighted too but I can't speak for the cats- they're miserable buggers) And I promise that we'll be there for the crap stuff as well as the good. Whether you're receiving a certificate at prize giving, need toast and tea at 4am because someone you love is being a dick or a pick up outside of the M25 at 2am, Daddy and I will be there cheering you on or kicking your butt. There's not only us waiting to meet you and be your cheerleaders, you've got a lot of family and friends awaiting your imminent arrival.
I can't wait to meet you. Truly, I hope you hurry up and turn up soon but until that day comes, always know that I love you. Very bigly indeed.
Your Mummy xxx
I've had a post in my head for a few days. It's a letter:
To my baby,
Note those first three words. Whether you are brand new, eight years old or eighty five, you are still my baby. Whether you are biologically your Daddy's and mine, just your Daddy's or adopted, you are still our baby.
Although, I was never really one for dolls as a child or even cooing over other people's babies as an adult, I have always wanted a "you". As soon as your Daddy and I met, and realised that we had something pretty special, I imagined us with you. I imagined your noise and the lost dinky socks (matching socks is not one of my specialties as you know. Chances are Max might have eaten them now that we have him.) I knew from the word go that Daddy and I would make pretty kickass parents, despite the socks issue, and would love you with our whole hearts.
There have been some imperfect versions of you along the way. I'd like to make an analogy between an artist making sketches before the creation of the perfect but you know me, I don't lie to children. Daddy and I tried to have you for not terribly long but we suffered a lot of loss in that little time. Five pregnancies at the time of publishing. Obviously, at this moment, I don't know how this plays out- whether Daddy and I decide to give it one more go, whether we change our minds about IVF or whether we adopt you. Hey right now, you know something that I don't know as of the 1st of October 2013! What I do know, is that I already love you, I have always loved you and I will always love you.
I know that you probably feel quite suffocated by my love- like you can't breathe without me knowing about it. Believe me, when Daddy and I lived in a middle floor flat with Jezzie and Harley, and a friend suggested about them going outside; I got a throbbing head and had a mini breakdown over it. I dread to think what I will be like with you...In the last few weeks, I have managed to let the cats go outside. They are now aged four, which is about 28 in human years, so you might get to leave the house without an adult accompanying you by the time you are thirty.
You probably hate your room that I have spent hours mentally decorating in John Lewis or dreaming over on a hidden Pintrest board (it will be based around famous children's books). You probably turn out to be a Spurs fan despite your father's allegiance to Arsenal and hate cricket (it takes time to love it but when you're big enough, the alcohol numbs the dull bits). There are likely to be tantrums over the endless music lessons and sports training- sorry Bubba, you've got to have more than one string to your bow!
It's probably a given that you will be embarrassed by my bad dancing and singing the wrong words to songs on the radio. Daddy can't quite hold a tune either. We share an exceptionally good taste in music though. We both find ourselves very funny as well, which will cripple you socially as a teenager. Just refer to Philip Larkin 's "This Be The Verse" whilst you are locked away in your bedroom and remember that you are not alone.
The one thing that I am utterly sure of is that you either already exist or will exist.
Your Daddy and I can't wait to meet you. (Max will be delighted too but I can't speak for the cats- they're miserable buggers) And I promise that we'll be there for the crap stuff as well as the good. Whether you're receiving a certificate at prize giving, need toast and tea at 4am because someone you love is being a dick or a pick up outside of the M25 at 2am, Daddy and I will be there cheering you on or kicking your butt. There's not only us waiting to meet you and be your cheerleaders, you've got a lot of family and friends awaiting your imminent arrival.
I can't wait to meet you. Truly, I hope you hurry up and turn up soon but until that day comes, always know that I love you. Very bigly indeed.
Your Mummy xxx
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