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Drive

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 “Help me win a new Ford Territory for a year and $5000″  

This post is our response to the challenge set by the Kidspot Top 50 Bloggers competition based on the word Drive.  It is a reflection on my drive and desire to become a Mother and how wonderful it is to be given the opportunity to reflect.  The italics are snippets of my journal while undergoing fertility treatment.  This is our success story and I am so happy to share it.

Tic toc, tic toc, tic toc……

Did you hear that noise, the sound of the ticking biological clock?

I remember it clearly…the ticking and the day when I decided that I could no longer hit the snooze button.  That day I ventured into the baby section of the department store and came home with a little neutral coloured onesie, for the baby that we would bring home in say…10 months or so. That was the day we optimistically naively decided we would start trying for a baby.

What I wasn’t prepared for was that the drive and desire to become a parent with a little bundle of my own would totally consume Spunkhead and I.  It would test us, send us both plummeting to rock bottom and change the way I view my life, the life I had expected since a little girl  and hoped for.

I guess once you make your mind up that you really want something you will do whatever it takes to get it.  And so, we did. 

We tried for our little bundle of cuteness naturally..the good old fashioned way for 10 months but I think it was after the first few months that I began to wonder if all was normal.  This is when I started keeping a journal…

‘Coming to terms with the monthly struggle of Big Fat Negatives was starting to take its toll on me. I  have many hopes for the year ahead…all of them centered around becoming a Mumma’.

My body went through all sorts of fertility drug concoctions and operations to investigate to no avail.  Spunkhead was put through the rigours of testing swimmers while we drove back and forth to the fertility clinic with precious little cargo in a jar under our arm pits. (Apparently they need to be kept warm and that was the best spot while we made the 30 minute drive into town).  We giggled about being pulled over by police and explaining our mission and chatted away to these little swimmers amazed that maybe..just maybe one of these could one day be our little bub.

We went through this process for another two years and then that drive and desire steered us down the IVF path.  There was not putting the brakes on now.  The ticking clock was deafening.

“We were sitting in the chair in the Fertility Doctors office explaining that this is what we both want…to be parents and then I was hearing my voice differently.  It was like it had its own echo and it all of a sudden seemed so real surreal.  This is really happening to us.  Infertility…it all of a sudden sounds different in my head, not like I’m talking about someone else anymore and today for the first time I think I acknowledged the reality and enormity of it all.  I could feel my heart breaking and our dreams becoming more blurred”

Our first attempt sent me bonkers, neurotic and some Spunkhead would say a little crazy. My body went through early menopause and I turned into an irrational woman pumped with hormones.

“Arggghhhhhhhh, the down regs fertility drugs are killing me.  I have turned into my menopausal Mother and wish the bloody hell Spunkhead  (name change for the sake of my Blog) could really see this is not who I am. 

Hot flushes, tears, flippant bloody moods.  The house has gone to shit and I am drowning in it. 

Someone stop this fricken roller coaster and let me off before my head explodes. 

I really don’t blame Spunkhead for being distant.  I am a pain in the arse to live with right now…this is not who I am, all I need is to know he understands that this is not me.

Love me Spunkhead… the me before my body was pumped full of hormones.

I want my life back, I want ‘me’ back.

And then that day when my little eggies were meant to met Spunkheads little swimmers and turn into magical cells and start multiplying our world came crashing down.  We found the reason for our infertility.  Looking through the microscope in the lab there was my little egg in the middle of the petri dish and Spunkhead’s swimmers were doing all they could to get the hell out of there.  They were as far away as possible from entering my egg.  It seems I had some kind of repellent against him and all of a sudden the love making and drive to become a parent became about science, it was sterile and smelt of antiseptic.  No longer was it about the two of us but now a team of experts in white coats who seemed to have forgotten that we were people who felt and hurt. We came home that night…the silent drive back to our little home and I packed his bags and put them at the front door.

“I don’t mind Spunk….you can leave.  I am giving you a free pass.  It is dark here….in the world of infertility and I want out”.

He didn’t go anywhere, and we tried again.  This time they planned to inject his little swimmers into my egg (ICSI)…there would be no getting away if we do that!  Shards of my optimism returned intermittently.

Every night for weeks I drove to Spunkhead’s work where he then managed a hotel and I sat myself up on the kegs of beer out the back where he jabbed my tummy with hormones and then I made the teary drive home.

“I opened the doors to the pub and there they were the same guys bar flies  drinking their harsh smelling drinks looking at me with glazey eyed curiosity, wondering who this emotional woman was that came in every night and disappeared behind the bar and out the back.  Propped up on the Kegs of Beer Spunkhead lifted my top searched for a spot on my tummy that wasn’t black and blue from bruising, pinched my skin and jabbed me.  I flinched put my paraphernalia away ready to return the next night..same time as required same place.  This is exhausting.”

We went through this process for years…travelled overseas and hid from the world when it got to painful, when our life became consumed with friends having babies. We faced moments of immense sadness at  seeing the continual one bloody line on the pregnancy stick.  And then, there was that day where I hit rock bottom.  In another country, the baby section of Harrods I sat down in the middle of the teddy isle and sobbed for the life I so desperately wanted, the babes I dreamt of and the man who I desperately loved and wanted to share this with.

We packed our bags and headed home…clocks ticking louder than ever, ready to try again.

I feng shuied the house sounds a little crazy..I know to promote a balanced environment to conceive, moved our bed away from the door hung fertility gods in our entry, refused to vacuum under our bed for fear of upsetting the flow of positive chi, removed all electrical devices and unhealthy yang and filled the room with candles and elephants.  I slept with rose quartz under my pillow and swallowed Chinese fertility pills by the dozen.  I became obsessed with acupuncture happy to jab my body some more and made amazing friends via the web who were experiencing similar fates.

“It is the waiting and the the ticking…sometimes it is all you hear.” 

We both took the day off work…that day when we were awaiting the blood test to see if  IVF attempt number four had worked some magic on us.

I remember it so vividly.

We rang at three in the afternoon as I could no longer stand it and the nurse stated that my results were not in.  I could here her rummaging in the office and then she came back on the phone and told me they found my bloods… still sitting on the bench.  I burst into tears and she explained that a pregnancy test would now give an accurate response. Spunkhead raced down the chemist and I peed on the stick…freaking out and as it sat there on the bathroom bench soooooo desperate to see those two illusive lines

And there they were….TWO magical bright lines…two of them!!!

“BFP!!!!!! (Big Fat Positive)”

I did a test everyday for the two weeks that followed that and floated around on some kind a fairy dust bliss wondering if this were real. 

That ticking clock was silenced when I held my two little bundles of pink for the first time as was the drive and desire to become a Mumma. 

“We made it Spunkhead!”

Happiness is….  that’s a simple one, It is being a Mumma.

Infertility helped to make me the parent I am today and in a warped kind of way I am so eternally grateful for that.

Do you remember the ticking clock…that drive and desire to want a bub, to be a parent?  Did you put the brakes on it or throw yourself in head first?  Did it happen fast or were you tested a little?

This little home has been released in London.  Where we hit rock bottom and that BIG ticking clock haunted me.  Big Ben.  Thank you Andee you are a star for releasing this happy home…because that’s what it is now….happy xoxox
Home 165: Drive – Big Ben London.

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