Not this time…

Just how many times you can get knocked down and actually be able to get up again depends on who – or what, more to the point – that keeps on pushing you over. Yet again, we got the big fat Negative. Sorry, no. Not this time. Nudda. I can’t say I didn’t see the warning signs though. There were the mood swings that had me lower than one of Amy Winehouse’s singlets. The agro that saw me scream like the girl in Poltergeist when poor little 9 y o packed the wrong board shorts in his camp bag (pretty sure after that little outburst he’s glad to be going away for three days and is rather hoping his real mummy will be back by the time he gets home). And the general feeling that something just wasn’t right…who knows, maybe I’m psychic or maybe I just had my girlie intuition radar on full noise.

We only had one go at it this time so now we’ve got the added kick in the guts that there’s no more little icicles left in the freezer. They say the only way you can ever understand the ride of infertility is unless you’ve been through it yourself, but I really really wish we weren’t the ones having to find out first hand. I’ll see the movie instead, thanks. I want off now. I’ve had enough of the rollercoaster. I hate heights. I get bad motion sickness and I’m no thrill seeker. Get. Me. Off, you hear?

I suppose we got a bit ahead of ourselves because last time it worked so of course this time it would too, right? Big fat no. Don’t be going and getting ahead of yourself now ‘cos Fertility gonna come right back at you and slap you hard. There, shouldn’t have thought you were so clever.

So another little almost peanut is on the Return to Sender list. Gone in the bubble of hope we held it in so tightly. Gone to join the thousands of other ‘almosts’ of the couples who, like us, are battling this evil curse. If there is such a thing as wanting or wishing too much, maybe I’m guilty of it but I’m too damn stubborn to give up just yet. To the Big Bloke Upstairs, if you’re listening up there, chuck some luck our way, would you please.

While I try and keep my chin up, dust off my knees and get back up on my feet I’m reminded that I wouldn’t be on this journey if it weren’t for The Vet who keeps me going day in and day out. Who never ever says, ‘enough is enough, that’s it.’ Who never tells me to ‘just get over it’. Who is always there to catch my fall and who keeps me going with ‘it’ll happen…’ I guess for now it’s just going to take time. Love n’ hugs to all the Lady Mamas out there who are fighting this battle… Lady MamaGxox