I’m a mummy, finally, after 5 and a half years of trying, I’m a mummy and hubby is a daddy. The biggest achievement of our lives. Our treasured child welcomed with two set of open arms, with love that knows no boundaries.
We are parent’s, we are two of the lucky people who’s hard work and intervention paid off, first time.
Never did we have a loss, as painful as that would have been, our bodies it’s seems have never been equipped to conceive naturally regardless of fates decision on the outcome.
Most would say and 99% of me would agree that that is a blessing. Family and friends have suffered loss. I know it’s awful both physically and mentally. I don’t understand, but I can empathise. But I also felt like I needed to know my body could do it and we’d never ever had a sign – bar one late period in 15 years. I’m sure that other 1% of me would have been nullified if I ever was to have lost. I’m sure I’d then have been consumed with pain and fear.
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, we believed our infertility issues were solely male factor. They were pretty extreme. Dh was not azoospermic, however numbers were very low and motility was also low. Early tests confirmed this and little changed that, as was confirmed through multiple follow up tests. Well that’d explain our difficulties. From the start it was evident we’d need intervention/assistance.
Fast forward a year and a half later. Numerous tests clocked up and medical records updated with both our details. We’d finally reached the top of the list. We were days away from starting our treatment when another bombshell hit. I would be down regulating. Why?
The reason why was my blood tests showed my AMH (UK stats) were around 4 and so considered Low, heading for the Low Low end.
I cried, cried so hard. The nurse didn’t even know where to look. I had so many questions. Why? Why didn’t we know this before now? What does this mean?
So not only had we been dealing with Male IF all these years, but I too had IF issues. My egg reserve is way below average and to this day is probably still dwindling. (Christ knows I don’t even want to think about where it’s at just now – but that’s just burying my head in the sand).
So back to our luck, our hard work, our mental strength – against all odds.
We picked ourselves back up from the floor, quickly. Hope and positivity always got us through these rough periods. We continued with our clean eating. Sacrificing so many things we loved/desired. We stayed fit. Drowned ourselves staying hydrated. Visited our acupuncturist. Researched. Took nutrients, vitamins, natural fertility boosting tablets, powders, food, drink, god you name it.
I joined a community of other IF women. Amazing women. I chose to add a mixture of peoples experiences and journeys. Some still trying, some at the same stage as we were with our treatment & most who had been successful. Some successes were first time, some were those who almost gave up and after many attempts, finally having their dreams made reality. I saw these successes as my life line. My living hope. It happens. It can happen.
We tried to live in the moment and live for today but dream of the future.
It paid off, and with the wonder of modern day science, our wonderful boy joined us.
I don’t need to tell you how wonderful that moment was. Our lives changed forever. I also don’t need to tell you, how difficult I found the early weeks and months. I’ve said it here before.
Longing for a child and being infertile doesn’t suddenly make you earth mother, perfect and find it a breeze when your time finally comes. On the contrary, for some of us it makes the next part of the journey even more challenging. Something our HV was quick to inform me she sees more often than not.
In the early days I was very open about my struggles and had amazing support from my family and IRL friends. But the support I received through my Twitter ‘family and friends’ was immense. I don’t know what I’d have done without the encouragement. The echoes of experience & how the tough times will get better. Things to try. Reassurance not to worry. I’ll be forever in so many wonderful people’s debt for helping me regain my sanity.
Fast forward 6 months and life is so different. I feel like I’m much more in control. I feel like a mummy and not someone pretending to be a mummy. I love (& always have) my boy and he loves me. It’s evident now. His love for me is pretty much tangible. I hope he feels the same way about my love for him.
That said, days can be tough. Trying to work out whether I should feed him at a different time to fit his sleep needs or make his sleep fit his meal times. Risking creating an overtired monster and never really knowing if I’m tackling it the right way. Realising he’s an individual and doesn’t fit the mould perfectly to recommended routines.
Wondering whether we’re better getting out and about every other day, or sticking to trying to routine him and staying at home. Juggling his sleep needs and his curiosity for the world (hence doesn’t like to sleep when out and about).
Worried he naps too late and then doesn’t sleep well at night or wakes early in the morning. Worried he’s not had enough naps and doesn’t sleep well at night or wakes early. My brain is constantly going ten to the dozen.
I’m a mum, I’m a worrier and I’m only human. It’s no lie when people tell you it’s the most challenging yet rewarding job you’ll ever do. I thought my ‘real’ job was beyond challenging; encouraging people to push boundaries and work to unachievable measures. But it now seems like a doddle. Having said that, I could see retuning far enough in exchange for being with my longed for boy each and everyday as he grows, challenges and all. This is my REAL job now.
It seems however that in the IF twitter community at present, where those still trying and those who aim to share experiences, give support and hope through their successes (& attempts to be successful beforehand) that it’s now more difficult to ‘talk shop’ with other new mummies who’ve shared in a long, emotional journey to achieve this new role.
People’s current reality can be misconstrued and cause offence inadvertently. With no intention to upset or cause rifts.
Same for those who have recently achieved their longed for BFP. Some still longing are finding it harder to share in the joy, unable to hide their envy, in an all too negative way.
This makes me sad. Very sad. I understand, to some extent. I can empathise, again, for I haven’t had multiple failed attempts or losses. But I’m still infertile. I still know the longing.
The congratulating yet another friend or family member in real life. Or an acquaintance or work colleague on facebook for ten millionth time while still waiting my turn.
Hearing a friends say “just tell [hubby] to sit without his trousers on and put an ice pole between his legs.
The number of times I’ve heard some one tell me to elevate my legs after sex or simply “Relax”.
Being asked at every family party “so when is it your turn?” until they get bored asking in the end.
Having my mum innocently tell me about another colleague’s pregnancy announcement or friends daughter’s news – To the point where I had to tell her “unless I know them I actually don’t care”.
I’ve made the choice this week to take a long break from my IF Twitter account. It pains me so. There are so many people I want to follow and see how their treatment, pregnancies, life goals, and parenthood journey’s go. But I can’t do that and be a mummy and be myself, commenting on the good without sounding boastful or the challenging and sounding ungrateful.
When commenting on the good, I’m purely in awe of my amazing child. The one that me and my husband with a huge helping of modern science created.
When commenting on the challenges, I’m merely blowing steam. Being honest and saying it like it is. Day naps for instance, and juggling them are the bane of my mummy life. Dealing with over-tiredness & a moaning grump, when you know your child is a happy content child when he’s well rested. It’s hard. But sharing these thoughts doesn’t mean that I’m ungrateful or unappreciative of this wonderful gift I’ve been given. It’s just my reality. It’s where my life is at right that second.
But in another second I’m reminded that I’m still infertile. The phone call from my beloved sister to tell me that she and my brother in law were pregnant for the FOURTH time (& had hardly tried). While immensely happy for them and not a millimetre of me begrudged or turned green, it still reminded me that that will never be us.
When someone innocently asks (knowing our past or not) “Do you think you’ll have another?” – us soon reminded that our precious boy may never be a sibling.
Realising that my AMH is likely gradually worsening and being forced to decide whether we want to go through the huge emotional turmoil of the ivf roller coaster anytime soon. Otherwise, our chances continually disappearing before our eyes. Yet wanting to enjoy our boy in the very fast early years without the pressure of another cycle.
You see, I may be a mummy, but I’m still infertile. I can still support others suffering due to infertility. I can lend a shoulder or share experience and I want to give hope. This same support I still need it too – both as a mummy and as an infertile.
Choosing to take a break from my IF Twitter community has been a really emotional experience for me. I’ve cried more in the past 24 hours than I have done in quite sometime. It’s been a huge part of my life & truthfully I’m reluctant to close the door whether temporarily or permanently. But given recent events and they way I’ve allowed my self to feel being part of it just now, it’s very much needed.
I wish ALL of my Twitter FAMILY so much love, strength, and hope. Until I visit again…x