Nancy T

… And I always start to think about raiding shops for preggo tests around this time. I have zero symptoms, so just gonna ride it out until I’m due on.

It’s true what they say about hope - that there’s always a glimmer. And I think we nailed the timing this month…

On Friday, I told my boss I wanted to take a step back at work after a tough week of tears and anxiety. This will mean a lot less money, but hopefully fewer hours and more time to focus on being healthy, happy and less stressed.

This was such a hard decision, and I am beating myself up about it. I shouldn’t be stepping back, I should be moving forwards. I am good at my job, but I take it too seriously and work myself into the ground.

Our appt with the consultant last week was somewhat of a turning point in our little journey so far. The consultant confirmed that the polyp he’d tried to remove was still 50% in tact, but assured us that this shouldn’t have adverse effect on our baby making abilities. Basically, everything in my lady-land is working okay (ish). Ovulating. Pretty regular periods. Good hormone levels. Clear tubes.

But we did talk about hubs, and the consultant’s outlook on his sperm morphology seemed a bit worse. We agreed to try naturally until Xmas. But after that we’d go forth and conquer IVF, as hubs’ results are bad enough for a direct referral.

Me, the planner, initially felt pleased that we had a plan - a direction - and a date to aim for.

But the following day it sank in that we could be approaching the beginning of the end for our hopes of having a small person that we’ve grown.

Trying to be positive now, and remember we are still young (ish) and even if IVF doesn’t work the first time we potentially have 7+ years before it’s approaching game over time… My bank balance is wincing at the thought!

Today I helped organise a baby shower for a really good friend. I was one of two out of 9 girls who don’t have - or are expecting - kids.

All I can say is OUCH. *Everything* hurts now. My feet are sore from running around setting everything up. My arms ache from lifting up countless babes to give their mamas a rest. My jaw is stiff from all the ‘I’m so over-the-moon happy for you" grinning. But, most of all, my heart is heavy - full of all the hopelessness, loneliness and uselessness that is so often part and parcel of an infertile gal’s struggle.

I love my friends. I love their bumps. I love their babies. I truly am happy for them.

But I just want to be part of that, not a barren old bird on the periphery of what feels like real life.

I have a scan tomorrow to see what’s happening downstairs after a recent polypectomy ahead of a crazy busy week at work.

Don’t all rush to want to be me all at once, kids.

Is tough. Another pregnancy announcement from a friend. Another bout of heartache. And it’s not just heartache - it’s unwarranted shame that my (our) body isn’t good enough to make a little life.