Hello

Despite the best intentions I could muster, it appears that I haven't been in here in some time.

Looking back over my last post, I can still remember how crushed I was. I can also remember the sheer joy of getting a positive test a few days later, and I don't think I'll ever forget just how sad I was when I started bleeding a few hours later.

So here I am a month later. Still without child, and still surrounded by more animals than any sane person should be.

I'm off to Paris on Friday, so I may even have something interesting to talk about in a few days.

Hope. Vanquished.

The last week was a glorious truimph for Hope.

I just knew I was pregnant. I've never been that certain. Granted, I had no proof of it, and I had no reason to hold such a conviction but it was there. And it was wonderful.

As my Hope grew, my chart looked prettier and prettier. My symptoms increased daily. But the Hope was there first, long before the body of evidence developed to give further body to the elusive dream.

Hope was vanquished this morning, but she didn't go quietly.

The sun was shining. I took a test. The lines came up immediately. I was shaking and crying, screaming and yelling and I was so happy. I was so happy I could taste it.

I told the Baron, I told friends in the computer. I was rejoicing in that simple truth shown on a small plastic stick.

However, something wasn't right. I could feel something was wrong but I didn't want to confront it.

The lines were horizontal across the stick.

It wasn't real.

It was a stupid fucking dream.

When I woke up, crying, it was foggy. The heartbreak of realising it wasn't real hadn't quite overtaken the sheer joy I had felt. I decided to test for real. Today was the day I had planned to.

The dream didn't come true.

Rough times

Things haven’t been all that good this week, hence the silence.

In the space of a week, it has been intimated that my position as a non parent with the temerity to discuss child related issues is offensive, my words worthless, and on a kinder note by some more tender individuals, are just useless.

Then, to add insult to injury, I have been accused of wallowing in my bitterness (because I have the misfortune to suffer from dark thoughts at times in relation to my infertility and have said this), petty - because I thought maybe it would be a kind gesture for a poster to remove their children from their signature on the rare occasion I feel the need to ask for support in relation to my situation (not every time, mind, but those when I am in enough pain to need to ask for support), and unworthy of prayer because I wish ill on pregnant women.

Charming.

On top of that, no-one bothered to tell me that my cousin is pregnant. Not just a little bit pregnant, but 25 weeks along. Did they not think I would notice when I see her tonight? I know I am unobservant, but that was unlikely to just pass me by.

(I’m sure you can guess just how much I am looking forward to having to congratulate her (and yes, I am very happy for her and her husband. Of course, I probably don’t need to explain to the vast majority of normal and compassionate people that I can feel joy for her and sadness for me all at the same time, but of course we all know there are idiots out there, and that they tend to congregate in the same place), listen to all the pregnancy chat, and then undergo the third degree as to why I am the only one who doesn’t have children yet. Yes, I’m sure you can all appreciate just how much fun that is likely to be)

What else? Oh yes, another brief hope of pregnancy that went the way of the dodo. That was great too. There is definitely no chance of a baby Mouse appearing here before my 30th birthday, which is something I find very difficult to get past at this moment in time.

And the final straw is conducting a long review of anti social behaviour, in which the recurring theme is morons on benefits having children (twins, in a surprisingly high number of cases), assaulting each other whilst pregnant, assaulting the newborns in their mother’s arms and generally being shitty to each other.

I could do without this week.

Gone and done it now

I've made a doctor's appointment to discuss the distinct lack of pregnancy achievement ongoing in this house.

Shit.

Now it is real.

Fertile land

My village is extremely fertile.

Not only are the plants bursting forth from the land, and the trees blooming with the sweet scent of blossom, but the occupants are similarly blessed.

A new baby girl arrived home, being welcomed into the house behind mine. A baby girl is due to arrive in the house next to mine. A baby boy is expected in the house opposite mine.

The fertility boom did touch here briefly. My garden is choking with fast growing weeds.

Fucking apt, isn't it?

Nope

Still not.

I'm getting well good at this. But does my one line look fat from over there?

Pity party

We have been TTC for 390 fucking days.

Is it any wonder I am pissed off with everything right now?

I went shopping today, because the Baron had eaten my emergency stash of ice cream. Bastard. I was served by a pregnant girl. In front of me was a pregnant woman. Behind me was a pregnant woman.

And outside the fucking store were two women with their newborns.

You can see why I needed that damn ice-cream. I've clearly pissed off the universe today.

Scratch that last post

If I go to prison, it won't be for blog reading.

It will be for husbandicide. I'm going to kill the fucker.

1. He broke my oven. In fairness, he was trying to clean in it, and took the wrong screws off. So I have no shelves in the oven, which makes cooking more than one thing impossible. It's a Bank Holiday weekend (of course) and so no-one can fix it until Tuesday at the earliest.

2. He refuses to walk the dogs together. Which means when he takes one, I'm left with the other. They get distressed, cry their heart out and pee on the damn floor....which I have to clean up.

3. He keeps asking if my mood is because I am pregnant. How the fuck he thinks that is likely is beyond me, but I swear, if he asks me again, I will not be responsible for what happens.

Kill kill kill.

So sad

It was a lazy day last summer, when the sun was beating down and the scent of warm strawberries filled the air, that I first realised something was missing.

A very small Lila was snoozing by my feet, and I was idly watching the butterflies in my herb patch. I was completely contented and yet not. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I sat and puzzled, trying to make sense of that strange feeling. And then it hit me.

It wasn’t something that was missing. It was someone.

That was the first time that I was hit by the strength of my desire to have children. The power of that feeling shocked me. I knew I wanted to have children eventually, but until that moment, I didn’t realise just how much I wanted to.

The garden looked lovely that day, with the plants growing almost in front of my eyes. But it would look even lovelier with a little child playing in a paddling pool. A little child with curly dark hair and light eyes, laughing and splashing the dog so carefully guarding the pool.

That was a year ago. I remember thinking on that day, a year ago, that by next summer that dream would be real. Next year seemed like a lifetime away, but it felt close enough to touch. I could almost see the paddling pool. I could certainly see the dog…

The Baron and I talked about it, of course, and we did try briefly. Of course, then we decided to get married, and plans were put on hold. We decided we would start trying again after our wedding.

We’ve tried, on and off. Things kept popping up that meant we had to put it off a month here, a month there. Out of eighteen cycles, we have managed to try on eight of them.

And now the Baron has cold feet. He doesn’t want to continue trying right now. He can’t explain why. He won't explain why.

It is another summer now. The harvest is in already. The heat wave has broken and now it is cold and raining. It doesn’t feel like we’ve moved forward at all. That dream seems just as far as away as it did last summer. There will be no small child playing in our back garden this year, or next.

I think you can imagine how I feel right now.

Fun while it lasted

The second line held steadily faint yesterday, and then buggered off altogether this morning.

So that's a no, then.

I'm not but I think everyone else is

Truely.

I met some of my neighbours this week. They all are.

A fellow blogger got her two lines.

A forum friend got her two lines.

Two of my friends, my cousin, and a colleague all had babies in the last six weeks.

I confess to being a little more than on the jealous side.

As promised - sort of!

I must be brief - there are storms a-raging here at the moment and I don't know how long I have. We get a lot of power cuts during storms here.

Where to start? Fuck it, a list is the best option.

1. I am not with child. I made it to cycle day 65, which made me 29 days late. My chart suggested a new ovulation date so thankfully this was a normal bleed (ha! It hasn't been that bad since before I went on the pill) and nothing more than a depressingly late ovulation.

2. We took Lila to the beach a week ago. I have some fantastic pictures on my phone, but those will have to follow since I can hear the storm is getting closer.

3. I'm still on my diet. I lost the original five pounds, put them back on over the weekend when we went to the beach since we ate a LOT, but it is coming back off again.

4. I have sorted out my wedding flowers, and I will post a picture of what will be my bouquet.

5. I also have pictures of my garden which is in full swing.

6. Work is a pain in the arse. 'Nuff said.

7. I have had to take time off of work with breathing difficulties. We have had one of the highest pollen counts on record, and have also had very high smog levels. I haven't had problems like this for some years now, so it was very scary, but thankfully my medicine is pretty much keeping it under control.

8. I haven't received a speeding ticket from my *minor* speeding infraction so it looks like I am completely in the clear.

And with that, I must go and turn the computer off. The cats have taken shelter under the bed, and Lila is getting wound up by the thunder.

Fare thee well. See you after the storm!

Ignorance is bliss

Not knowing, talking about or even thinking about things is my new coping strategy. If I don't know, it isn't happening.

We are not talking about my cycle. My reproductive organs are organs non grata at the moment. Cycle day 53 my fucking arse. Not up for discussion.

We are not talking about the fact that one of my reprobate cats has pissed on the spare bed again.

We are definitely not talking about the deranged dog.

We are not going to discuss my chronic hayfever.

Nor are we going to talk about being called into school because the Boy has been giving his classmates the finger.

In fact, screw talking.

I am going to have a very large whiskey.

Well, fuck this!

12 days late and still nothing except a feeling of murderous rage towards my arsehole of a doctor and his lack of help.

I did try to point out that getting pregnant is immeasurably easier with a functional cycle, but he just shrugged.

Fuck inserting the whole box of tests into his rectum. I'm going to shove the entire bathroom suite up there.

Hum

I saw the doctor today. I very nearly inserted my negative pregnancy test into his rectum. He will not consider any further investigation for another six months.

So I have to wait. He says I will either have a baby or a period. Time will tell which.

I think he realised that I was going to hurt him, so he finally agreed to request a beta test if I wanted one.

Not that it matters, since I have meetings arranged all this week which I cannot alter (I did that to get to the fucking appointment today).

I'm not going to bother. I'll find out eventually, and since the hospital will not see me until six months have passed or I present as an emergency, I might as well save my blood for now.

If nothing has happened in three weeks, then I will go back and shove the entire box of pregnancy tests up his arse.

Still in limbo

I am now six days late, and I have six negative tests littering my house.

I have had to take naps because I am so damn tired. I am as sick as a dog and that is as a dog with heartburn as well. I have a splitting headache that won't go away, I need the toilet every half an hour (although that isn't too unusual), I have copious amounts of white discharge (which at least gives me an excuse to keep running and checking whether I have started or not) and my hayfever has vanished.

What in the flying fuck is going on?

I'm going slightly mad

Eighteen consecutive high temperatures.

Four days late.

Four tests.

One line.

Are you surprised I am going mad?

Negative

One line.

Still. Barring excess brownie consumption, I should fit into my wedding dress.

What the hell?

So I peed. At 11 dpo.

Nothing.

I waited. And then I peed again.

Still nothing. 12 dpo. 13 dpo. 14 dpo. It wasn't looking that good.

But I chart. And my chart is, well it's just plain funky.

My temperature stayed up in the stratosphere, but I started spotting. It got heavier and my temperature dropped like a stone. Game over.

But then I stopped bleeding after one day. And my temperature started to climb back up again.
I'm still testing negative (and I've run out of tests now), but my temperature is still far too high.

I have to wait and see what the next few days brings before I can get a blood test to check.

Umm...maybe?

I may have been a little premature on my last post.