Hope St


Hello my lieblings!

It has been more than a month since I posted, as Rufus and I took ourselves off to Australia for rest, relaxation and a stab at not fixating on the babymaking business.

Of course, I was hoping that a holiday would magic us up a natural pregnancy, but it was not to be.

As reliably as the tide, sunrises and tax returns, my period came.

But for the first time in a long time, day one of period did not make me feel utterly sad and hopeless and desperate. Because day two of my period (today) is Day  One of our first IVF cycle.

It all happened very quickly in the end. After months of investigations into my cycle, a laparoscopy, confirmation of endometriosis and two separate opinions from Peruvian specialists, I went to see a doctor in Canberra. I liked her. She asked all the right questions; she worried that three months of hormones for my endometriosis might turn off my cycle for good (which one doctor had recommended); she treated us as people rather than numbers. And when I asked her if we could go straight into a cycle if I could get my work to agree to let me stay on, she made it happen.

So here I am. Rufus froze his sperm (the friendly spermologist said it was an “excellent” sample which made Rufus smug and me relieved). And now he is on the way back to Peru.

I gave him a sooky farwell at Sydney airport this morning and then belted back down the highway to Canberra to take my first injection of the IVF cycle.

On the way I stopped for tea at a cafe overlooking an olive farm, called a friend who was due to have her baby at any moment, and discovered she had indeed had her baby overnight. This made me cry a little, sitting there looking out at the rows of olive trees and big blue sky. It was sadness at leaving Rufus behind and a little envy or overwhelm-edness (not a word, I know!) at my friend’s news.

I hightailed it to the hospital, where my friend was looking relaxed and happy and not at all like a woman who had just given birth, and got to hug little David, aged 10 hours. This made me tear up all over again but in a good way.

I am going to take David’s arrival as a good omen, maybe a little message from the universe to keep hoping, keep believing that one day, we too, will have a little baby.

It made it a lot easier when it came to jabbing myself for the first time this evening. I am a major wimp with needles. I need to breathe in and out in a very controlled way and look the other way and generally think happy thoughts in order to get through it. Yikes.

So I took my little refrigerator pack of drugs into the bathroom with me, snapped the needle bit onto the pen-like thingy they gave me to measure doses, did the steriwipe thing and then somehow managed to stab myself in the finger, swore, lost track of where I’d steriwiped myself and had to do it again… then gritted my teeth and stuck that baby into my belly.

And it was really not so bad. I can do this!

Am just about to settle down with a copy of The Fertility Diet by Jorge E. Chavarro and Walter C. Willett and Patrick J. Skerrett (Why do Americans always use their initials?). It seems like an excellent book so far.

It’s just so bloody lovely to be in my home country doing this IVF thing. I thank god and the universe for my family, my friends, my wonderful wonderful boss, English-language books, modern science and the staff at the clinic that have given me this opportunity. I feel very lucky to have it.

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