Sometimes it’s just shitful…

No stork stopping at Lady MamaG's this year...

No stork stopping at Lady MamaG’s this year…

So the end of the LONGEST two weeks of my life is up and nudda. Not one little embryo attached. Bugger. What do you get for all your hoping, praying, wishing that maybe, just maybe you might get lucky this time? Well you get a big fat one line on the POAS (for those who don’t know what that abbreviation is, I’ll spare you the overshare, let’s just say it’s a test). After going through what was our sixth round we came out with just one surviving embie and even that little sausage just didn’t manage to make the distance.

There are so many questions – why, why and mostly WHY being all of them but really, there ain’t no answer… it just is. Didn’t work. Again. But being the tough Scorp that I am, as well as being determined as all hell, stubborn as a forehead pimple and basically not ready to give up, we’re back up on the horse’s back. Well, not right now but after a nice little break of one month where I hope I might be able to have something that’s been absent for the past few months…and that would be a full night’s sleep, thanks very much. Not even the 9 y o kept me awake this much when he was a newborn.

If the nasty infliction that is infertility has taught me one thing, it’s that you can’t give up hope. You can’t chuck it in just because it didn’t work. You can’t ‘put a number on the amount of times you’re going to try’ any more than you can put a number on how much you want a baby (but if  you’re asking that would be the mostest in the world). You can’t feel sorry for yourself and be weighed down in the gallows of pity because there is always someone who has been on this journey longer than you, has suffered more loss than you or is taking it a whole lot tougher than you. As women we can’t help but feel like we’ve let the side down worse than the Wallabies in a test match because that’s what we girls were put on the earth to do…reproduce…and when that natural right is taken away, or at least out of your control you become more obsessed than Kris Kardashian over a new handbag line.

I’m just grateful that on what was yet another of the saddest nights of my life, I could still sneak in to 9 y o’s room and kiss his little golden lashes on eyes long ago closed. That I could climb in bed beside The Most Beautiful Man in the World and know that everything’s going to be alright. Cos it is the people who love you who get you through this shitful ride… Lov n’ hugs, LadyMamaG xox

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