Where to begin

The fertility journey began in August 2007. It has been a long and horrible road.

I have been told I was too fat, refused help, shuffled along, moved abroad, and subjected to every test in the book. Last month I thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel; unfortunately, it was a speeding lorry -- a miscarriage.

So here I am today, taking the first few steps from the new crossroads we've built. One of those steps is this blog, at a suggestion from Laura. I would consider myself to be a well-connected person, social media enlightened, with three other blogs, a Facebook page, and a Twitter feed which keeps me connected to everyone. Since October 24th, though, I feel isolated from everyone, with the exception of the Foxy Stoat, my husband, the only one who goes through this with me anyway.

Hence, this blog, where I can cry in isolation. I discovered that the hardest part of the miscarriage was the sympathy. I hated it. I just wanted to get on with my life. I did. I bought a horse, went in for bloodwork, did the next IUI cycle...

I still have the horse, the venipuncture bruises, and have just been gifted with another BFN from the cycle I didn't share with everyone else. It is looking increasingly unlikely that I will be going to England for Christmas as a pregnant woman, and all I can think is that I should be in my second trimester while I am there. Joy denied.

I was attempting to write a book about the humor of the journey and even got a chapter or so done. Right now, I'm not feeling much humor. I feel bleak, bitter, and defeated by my own body, which as a vehicle for my soul is roughly equivalent to a rusted out minivan with missing backseats and an engine that inexplicably goes "ping". I hated my body before starting the fertility thing. Now I despise it.

Today felt very bad. I had two panic attacks, bouts of inexplicable anxiety and a sense of impending doom. They were so bad I couldn't even cry out; like in a nightmare, I was frozen. I was not doing anything except enjoying Thanksgiving in the same way I have done for 29 of my 30 years. One attack happened at dinner, one before we left for home. I felt horrible. I think it has something to do with not being pregnant right now, and I don't know why.

We will begin the bloodwork for the final IUI cycle on Saturday morning. Technically, we are two cycles away from the six cycle "suggested serving size", this being only the fourth cycle. I made an executive decision shortly after receiving my Big Fucking Negative pregnancy test results over the phone yesterday. I am getting nowhere, paying $1,200 a month for insurance plus several hundred dollars a cycle for the procedure and drugs. At this point, I need a break. I wanted desperately to be pregnant before my 30th birthday. I wasn't. I wanted to be a mother before I turned 31. I won't be. I will have to deal with being an old mother regardless, so taking a few months off to regroup won't kill me. I need to lose about 2 stone, take care of myself, save money, and we're moving back to England for help. We're calling the private clinic tomorrow and I hope to start in the spring.

I don't feel like sharing. I feel bitter, and angry, and betrayed, and I don't want to talk to anyone about it, so I'll talk to myself, here. Maybe not the best way to start a baby blog, but at least it's honest.