So it’s been a while since Lady Mama G has enlightened you with the goings on of the world of infertility…and man has it been unkind. Hello My Name is Lady Mama G and it’s been over two months since I last posted. In that two months some stuff has gone down. Bad stuff. Forgive me Father for I’m about to ask…where the hell were you when I needed you to sprinkle me with some bloody good news dust, huh? You was awol, that’s where you was.
 Let me tell you about the ride so far. It goes a little like this. We had another transfer – following the typical protocols where they wait till after you’ve ovulated, then they chuck a little embryo in the hatch and hope like hell it sticks. Except it didn’t. Despite that nasty little drug they like to call progesterone tricking me into thinking it did. My dose had been upped to the point where I was convinced not only was I definitely up the knock but was pretty sure there were two little inhabitants cruising round in my uterus. Except there wasn’t. When I got the call to tell me the shitballs news that the naughty ‘P’ had fooled me into thinking I’d be getting a positive at my 11-day test I’d be lying if I said I was anything but completely shattered. This one was different from the first cos I felt all the signs…the early signs. Except they weren’t.
 So ever the optimist, if I’ve learned nothing in this tough old life so far it’s that when you get a kick in the guts, you get your breath back and act like nothing’s happened. Back on you go.
 I like the number three, I think it has a good ring to it and like they say good things come in three’s. Third time lucky. Three for free. Well that kept me in high spirits as did the fact my son was conceived in March so I was convinced, much like a female dog, that perhaps March is my ‘season’. Call me crazy but I’ll take anything. This time round I got to take a lovely little concoction called HRT three times a day, as well as my good old friend progesterone. I hadn’t gone out and bought too many baby clothes but a little part of me thought I’d been dealt enough hurt and a bit like Clint Eastwood, I was feeling Lucky. Like the good old luck god would bring me some loving. Except she didn’t. All the pains, all the nausea, all the little flutterings of joy were mistaken. Nothing but an empty old uterus. Yet again.

People want to know if you’ll go again. You’ve got more embies in the freezer, you should use ’em up, right? But exactly how much hope I’ve got left in me I can’t say. How many more times I can put me, my darling husband and our boy through the disappointment of ‘just one more failed attempt’, I’m also not sure. I’ve decided to hibernate for a bit because like a good Scorpio, I’m not a fan of fuss. I’ll dust myself off and probably be up for one last try next month, or the one after that is, if my head and heart can get along and play nicely again.
I’ve still been frequenting Mr Needles, and Dr Babies has been amazing – I know I’m in good hands there but what about the hurt…? Not just for me, but for The Vet who is also heartbroken and the nine-year-old who rather optimistically told me that ‘we can try again though, right?’ when I explained yet another baby hadn’t made it past a poppy seed. Yes, optimism it’s the only thing that keeps us going. That and love. And fortunately, I’ve got plenty of that to keep me going through the pain.