3 years ago today we ended our attempts to have our own children. It is crazy how it all happened. I felt today that since I have started a blog and have a policy of painful honesty I would share my story.
It started 7 years ago. I was 23.
I had been to the doctor as I hadn't had a period in months. I had had a series of cysts that had been a pretty vile experience and so thought I had better be checked out. My GP ran some tests and I had never really thought any more of it.
Then a follow up appointment dropped a life shattering bomb shell. I was infertile. I didn't ovulate.
My GP grabbed the bull by the horns and had my husband (then boyfriend) 's sperm tested.
Well! There it was. A sperm count that would make children all but impossible.
As I was so young we were told if we wanted even a snowball's chance in hell we should be referred for fertility treatment immediately.
We had not even considered babies at this point, I was 23 going on 17, a student nurse and completely piss poor. It all just sort of ran away from us.
Before we knew it we were in front of a consultant. Thoughts of sperm or egg donors in our mind. After further testing my husband's swimmers were fine, if not a little lazy.
The Clomifine commenced and so did the scheduled bonking. We had sex whether we liked it or not. Whether we liked each other of not.
I peed on sticks to see if I was ovulating and at times I would see the smiley face! I would get so excited. I would have my bloods done and be so sure when we next saw the consultant it would be good news. It never was. The smiley face had lied. They test for the wrong hormone and they don't mean it when they smile.
18 months of false hope and mocking smiles. I had not ovulated, I couldn't be pregnant.
On we went to the IUI and the daily injections. As a (now qualified) nurse the injections didn't phase me, if anything I felt like in a weird way it could make them work better as I was an expert in stabbing people with needles. I could stab myself better than anyone.
Well if the stress of the treatment isn't enough, the overwhelming desire for it to work, the fucking roller coaster of hormones, hope and then hopelessness was all but unbearable. Then once someone decides you may have a follicle that is almost passable you have the treatment. My husband at the first of these actually told me he felt violated for me. It is pretty fucked up. 2 women have a chat around your what-not checking a bottle of your partners junk before shoving it up you with a straw. Pretty gruesome.
By the third time all dignity had gone out the window. All sense of privacy or ownership over my own body parts had gone and I was joining in the chats with the nurses as they checked my details with my legs in the air and my hoo-ha on display.
After 3 rounds of this, 3 rounds of stabbing myself with drugs, shoving progesterone in places that should only ever be 'out holes'...nothing.
The only thing that had changed was that my mental health was in pieces and my desire for a baby was immeasurable.
Onwards we went. ICSI next. Well shit the bed! How I didn't top myself is actually quite beyond me. Some days I would lie on the landing crying, unable to move. My husband once rang me and I was so hysterical he left work to check on me. Honestly I think he had prepared himself for the worst. Hormones being hormones however had seen me have a complete and spontaneous recovery and I was sat drinking tea in the kitchen.
I never really considered my husband in all of it at the time. My emotions, and hormones and generally pretty broken state of mind were all consuming. I was completely selfish, but even with hindsight I don't see how I could have been anything different. I don't really know how I made it through.
I missed my sisters 30th, our niece's christening had to be rescheduled and I had to take unpaid time off work. And all for nothing.
So many people offered us the money that we couldn't find to try again but I was done. I couldn't survive any more. I knew it and so did my husband.
July 2011 I came to terms with the fact that I would never have my own children. I would never know what it was to be pregnant.
We decided to adopt. It was a decision that lifted all the burden. I wanted to be a mummy so much, it was all I could think about. They didn't need to have my genes to be my children. My husband I think was just relieved to have me back from the brink and being the wonderful man that he is hot behind the idea 100%.
We were all ready to go with the adoption, we had references from friends and family and our social worker knew more about us than our own family did.
Then one day in Tesco I was doing my weekly shop and I turned into a crazy woman. I started buying spinach and piles of fruit. I bought multi vitamins and put the wine back on the shelf. I then stood in the women's aisle like a complete mental case picking up and putting back the Tampax until I eventually went and purchased a pregnancy test. I had no reason to think for a moment I could be pregnant but some how I just knew I was.
12 tests later and a lot of tears and there it was I was pregnant. How? Who the chuff knows? But I was.
3 months after having known I would never have my own baby there I was pregnant.
3 years later and I have just put not only my first but also my second baby in their bed.
Our bodies are wonderful things. I apologise for the whopping length of my post. But that's my story. That's how I had my babies after knowing I would never have one.
I hope anyone else that is going through similar can take comfort in my story. It was long but it had a happy ending!