Thalia's fertility journey

Cats and dogs

Last night as we cuddled on the sofa and watched "The Right Stuff" (my husband is so cool that he doesn't mind that I have to watch this every time it's on so that I can fall in love with Sam Shepherd all over again),  H suggested: "You know, we should get a dog. Having something to love and look after would help us get through this fertility stuff."

My husband wants to get an obligatory infertility dog. He doesn't read infertility blogs, he doesn't read any blogs. He currently doesn't allow me to use the word infertile to refer to us. Clearly there is something in this pattern that transcends the blogsphere.

However we won't be getting a dog. If we get anything it will be a cat. Because I'm a cat person, and in the end, I know H will let me win this one. For now, at least.

Sharing

Thank you so much to everyone who has posted in the last few days. It is tremendous to be able to have a 'conversation' with people who understand what this is like. I now know to pop the painkillers before the HSG. H is also coming with me for moral support - he was great at the ultrasound and luckily his job is very flexible.

I had a good 'telling' experience today. I was having a heart to heart with the lead person on the other side of the team I'm working on at the moment. We were talking about lessons leant from the first 2 months of working together, and he asked for feedback. I told him the thing I thought he could do more of was thank people for their effort, comment when things are looking good, and so on, instead of just when there is a problem. He told me that's a perennial issue for him and I should continue to point out to him when he has an opportunity to give positive reinforcement to his team.

We then moved on to how to make the team more effective. I pointed out that a big issue is that we only see each other face to face once every two weeks, and that the rest of the time we try and solve problems using the phone, webex etc. It's hard to develop relationships with people that way. He agreed, but confessed that it's hard enough for him being away from home for at least 2 nights a week at the moment, without adding more. His son in particular is really missing him and he just isn't prepared to be away more than he is already. In the spirit of sharing I told him that H and I were having problems conceiving which is making the travel very hard for me, too. Whereupon he told me that actually he and his wife had a lot of problems conceiving, and that their second child is adopted. I'd already wondered if they had suffered with infertility because there's such a big age gap between the two children but it's not exactly something you ask!

He was then incredibly sweet and said I could talk to him about it any time, but that he wouldn't ask unless I volunteered as it was up to me to decide if I wanted to share. We compared notes on the unhelpful things people say, in particular the "just relax!" nightmare. I hadn't seen it this way before but his point was that the problem with that statement and others like it is that they make the infertility your fault. We also agreed that family were the worst at his because they want to fix the problem, but they can't, and in trying to do so they make it worse. Just like my mother posting me an article last week, just after I told her we were having problems, entitled "accupuncture made me pregnant!" Thanks Mum.

He said that his biggest learning is that even if you've been through something very similar to someone else, you really don't know how they feel. Their feelings of loss after a miscarriage won't feel be exactly the same as yours. And he talked powerfully about how he came to appreciate just how much of a loss a miscarriage is - having started from the perspective of "it's not a baby yet", he came to realise it is a baby, your baby, and you've lost the chance of ever meeting it.

The conversation made us late for our next meeting but it was worth it. I'm so glad I plucked up the courage to bring it up.

The cookies went down well, too!

HSG

Just a quickie today. I made the HSG appointment - it's on the 7th which will be CD12. Still leaves us time to try this month, hopefully. The woman was actually really nice. She's another person (either literally or metaphorically, I'm not sure which) from last time I called.

I hear they hurt. Do they?

Rather than spending time typing to you I'm going home early so I can make chocolate chip cookies for my team.

And lo, she made the banana cake, and it was good

Two major attempts at cooking today. One blueberry pancakes, one banana cake.

The former were nearly a disaster. I used Nigella's recipe from How to be a domestic goddess, and my recommendation to you, dear reader, is don't. I thought it was odd while I was mixing the batter that she uses only baking powder, and no bicarb. And indeed, chemistry will out and the bloody things stayed as flat as, well, a pancake. So I speedily looked up my favourite recipe from It's all American Food, and realised that yes, american-style pancakes should have both bicarb and baking powder, and actually more sugar than Nigella recommends (I never thought I'd say that, Nigella usually makes things too sweet I think). So I added a slug of bicarb and sugar to the remaining batter, mixed well, and lo and behold, the pancakes rose. My husband had four large ones and declared them delicious. I had two and declared them too sweet, but you live and learn. The best thing about them was the way the blueberries exploded as they cooked. Yum.

The banana cake was my best yet. It too is a recipe from how to be a domestic goddess, and luckily I've learnt from experience to reduce the sugar somewhat and not to melt the butter. The first time I made it I melted the butter and then tried to mix in the sugar, and nothing happened. For a really long time. Until I gave in and started again with solid, room temperature butter. Don't know what Nigella was thinking.

I also beat the butter and sugar for a really really long time. I feel good doing this because I now understand cake chemistry. I kept finding that my cake mixture would start to curdle when I added the eggs, no matter how room temperature they were. So I went off googling and found The Joy of Cooking which explains what is going on.

At the point where the butter and sugar mixture is light and fluffy, room temperature eggs are added.  (The use of cold eggs will reduce the volume of your finished cake. )  You may have noticed that there may be curdling of the batter at this stage.  This is particularly so when the recipe is for a high-ratio cake (see below).   This is caused by the addition of more liquid (eggs) than the batter can handle at one time.  Once the flour has been added it will smooth out the batter so don't worry.  One solution is to add the eggs to the batter more slowly as opposed to one egg at a time as most recipes state.  Lightly beating each egg first and then slowly adding the egg down the side of the bowl as the mixer is running will help.  If you see curdling, stop adding the egg and beat the batter a little to smooth it out before continuing the addition of more egg

So that explained my curdling problem. The site also provided this:

The creaming of the butter and sugar produces air bubbles in the fat created by the rubbing of the sugar crystals against the fat.  These holes will get larger and multiply as you continue beating.   Starting on low speed and then gradually increasing the speed allows the air bubbles to form and strengthen.  Starting at too high a speed could damage or break the fragile air bubbles which will cause the finished cake to be heavy with a compact texture.  The goal is to have maximum aeration, that is, lots of air bubbles in the fat.  A well aerated batter means a cake with good volume and a soft crumb. 

So I creamed for a long time, then I beat my eggs together before slowly dribbling them in, and look ma, no curdling! I also added orange zest and a few drops of orange oil to the recipe. It turned out perfect and has made H very happy.

I've done my work for the day, and am about to go to the gym. At least since I'm not pregnant I can push myself on the treadmill without fear (or excuse). Today I'm not despairing. Not happy, but ok.

Despair

Today is H.'s birthday and as promised in my prescient conversation with Hope a few days ago, it also coincided with me starting to bleed. Indeed, the bleeding started at about 23:55 of the day before his birthday, just so that there was no single part of the day during which we could continue to hope.

This time I am inconsolable. I alternate between reading blogs of women who have endured far worse than I so far on this journey, and thinking "Thank G-d we haven't had to go through that, please G-d, we may never have to," and thinking "bloody hell, it took Tertia 3 IUIs, 3FETs and 6 IVFs before Kate and Adam arrived - I don't have time to do that, I'm too old, it will never work, we will never have children."

Today is a despair day. Poor H doesn't know what to do to comfort me as I'm not very open to being comforted. At least tonight we are home and I can watch America's next top model and eat some of the Easter chocolate and mope in a satisfactory way. And we've agreed that tomorrow I will bake a banana cake to make up for my misery somewhat spoiling the day today.

Tomorrow I will call to put myself on the list for the HSG. I'm ready to be really interventionist now. I want this baby so much.

Eating

Well, if you read the previous entry you'll have had a hint that we're staying somewhere rather nice for Easter, which also happens to be my husband, H.'s, birthday. This rather nice place has a one-star Michelin restaurant where I'd booked a table for Saturday night. The other nights, I thought, we'd eat at their smaller, Spanish-style restaurant. Well, it turns out that on all nights but Sunday the one-star Michelin is the only restaurant that's open. And the hotel is a way out of town so we haven't felt like getting a car in to find a less serious place. So by Monday, suffice it to say, we'll be very fat. Not the least because since it's the first time since we met that Easter doesn't coincide with Passover, so part of H's birthday present is a rather lovely Easter Egg from La Maison du Chocolat.

But oh, the food. So far we've resisted the tasting menu, we'll have that tonight. But even without the tasting menu they bring you at least 6 different dishes before you get to the starter. On the first night these included caremelised seaweed paper, a quail egg coated with a salty caremel coat, and little balls of maize powder flavoured with chilli. Last night they included tiny mandarin jellies, caramelised slices of grapefruit, praline covered in nuts which had been dipped in salt first so that the whole effect was savoury rather than sweet. The food comes from the El Bulli near Barcelona, the one that they laugh at you if you try and get a table any time for the next 12 months. The chef here studied there and is producing food originally created at the original restaurant. It's really delicious.

The best thing, though, about staying here, is the breakfasts. They use the same tasting type approach. So when you sit down you are offered tea, coffee or chocolate. Then a basket of baked goods - five different ones including this morning tiny croissants, local cream-cheese filled pastries, mini doughtnus, and muffin-type fruit cakes. To go with these then arrive a plate with six tiny containers - one butter flavoured with coffee, one butter flavoured with strawberry, one cream cheese flavoured with chives, one banana compote, one praline, and one pumpkin jam.

Oh, and I've forgotten that by now you've also received four shot glasses, each with a different juice. This morning they were carrot with orange (I didn't like it - tasted a bit chemically), cherry with blackcurrant, apple with basil (absolutely marvellous) and mango with passionfruit. When all that is gone you get a second plate with five tiny portions of loveliness. This morning it was whipped yogurt (I think it must be whipped with egg white - it tastes distinctly yogurty but with an amazingly light texture), at the bottom of which was a teaspoonfull of white chocolate mousse, a vanilla mousse topped with lemon jelly, a tiny teacup full of an orange soup with tiny chopped pieces of mango, celery and lemongrass, a teacup of mixed red fruits, and some bananas flavoured with coffee.

Just when you think you've died and gone to heaven they give you the savoury  menu which includes local anchovies with basil oil, or smoked salmon with aniseed. Today I had scrambled egg with tiny slivers of tender baby garlic and spring onions. And then I cried because breakfast will never be better than this.

Now I need to get ready for our evening of the tasting menu. Wish my stomach luck!

Blogging

There are a whole bunch of topics I was going to blog about, but I've been so busy that they keep flying out of my head. If anyone is reading this, you can drop a note in the comments and let me know which of these sound worthwhile

• How useless most infertility books are - names are shamed
• S for POAS selection criteria
• My latest reading experiences (NB I read pretty much any fiction I can get my hands on)
• My fears about becoming a mother
• The amazing meal I'm going to have on Saturday night (note, to be written after I have it!)
• 14 kids and counting! (which was just shown in the U.K. this week)
• Why I'm not fat any more
• The ridiculous list of things I've done to try and increase our chances of getting pregnant

Let me know. I'll probably blog about these anyway but it would be good to get some feedback. What do you enjoy on other people's blogs? I enjoy (although that's not really the right word) on infertility blogs, reading about exactly what treatments people have had, how they've worked or not worked.  This helps me feel informed and ready to talk to the doctors with authority. In general I enjoy reading blogs where I get a real sense of the person concerned, where they really share what's important to them. Within those criteria I read blogs in five categories

• Infertility
• Cooking/Eating
• Mothering/Parenting
• Reading/the Arts
• Losing weight/exercise/fitness

I think I enjoy them all equally. Perhaps the reading ones less so as they can be a little pretentious - so they only work for me if they are written by someone with whom I identify in some way. The losing weight ones I was addicted to last year when I was in my health and fitness phase (lost 25 pounds, so far have only regained 5 through general infertility misery) although I was never called to blog about it. Now I'm finding most of them a bit dull. The glorious exception is Shauna who seems to both maintain an amazing sense of humour (perhaps because she's an Aussie in Scotland - she probably needs it), and also writes well. Isn't it amazing how many people don't?

I only read mothering/parenting ones that are either incredibly funny (it's a cliche I know, but Dooce, Surburban bliss), or have come out of horrific situations, so they're sort of still infertility blogs in a way. One of my best friends also has a blog which is mostly about mothering, although she's now trying to refocus on her writing itself after all the Mommy blog controversy a few months ago. I'm not going to link to it here, though, since otherwise you might visit it, and then she'd check her visitors and find this and know it's me and that's exactly why I started a new blog with minimal identifying features so I can trust that no one I know is reading it (or if they are, they don't know it's me).

How did I come to blogging? When the aforementioned friend told me she had started this thing called a 'weblog', or 'blog', I thought it all sounded a bit pointless. I didn't go read her blog for at least 6 months after she started it. Then I was bored one day, decided to look in and was hooked. Since we live several 1000 miles away, and I'm a terrible person at writing email and calling, this was an amazing way to hear about her life. I found a couple of other blogs linked from hers, and started to get interested in those people's lives too. These were mostly reading/arts/politics blogs.

Then when I got started on my health and fitness kick I found my first diet blog, I'm pretty sure it was via Google, and got fascinated by how messed up some people were, and how amazing others were - losing over 100 pounds and keeping it off, struggling with hormone blockages etc. This gave me real strength as I finally decided it was time to be fit and slim for the first time in my life. That it coincided with my wedding coming up, and as one friend called it "the fear of the big white dress", is a bit embarassing, but I'm so glad I finally found the click.

One of those fitness blogs led me to Daily Bread*, which is really a cooking/food blog. From there I found wonderful people such as Pim and Clothilde, who inspired me to get back to cooking. When I met my husband-to-be he didn't know how to cook. He gradually learned, and learned to enjoy it and now given that I don't get home until 9pm or so, he cooks most evenings. The cooking blogs have helped kick me into gear when I do have time, and have helped me feel good about my occasional indulgence in amazing restaurants.

One link from a cooking blog led me to Surburban bliss, who led me to Chez Miscarriage, then I found this community. I was about to type that it feels like home, but actually it doesn't. I feel I've found a group of incredible people who could really understand how I'm feeling (although I feel I don't have much right to complain given I'm only 9 months into this journey, and it may be that we can conceive with limited intervention - we just don't know yet). However, I don't feel part of it yet. I see the community who posts on each other's sites, and I know that they don't know me yet. I post a little, but not enough for people to get to know me, and I know that currently this blog is "out on the unfashionable western spiral arm" of the internet.

So why am I blogging? I thought it was because I wanted to write - because I thought that would make me feel calmer about what was happening and help me take less of it out on my husband. That is happening. But I think also I am jealous of that community and I'd like those wonderful people to be my friends. I know I need to earn that right, and that it may never happen. So until then, I blog, because it helps me. Odd to do something which is really about me and not about me doing something for someone else. Got to think about that a bit more.

And sometimes I might even write about food or books. What do you think?

*  From here on the stupid wireless connection was dropping constantly so I couldn't keep going to look up addresses. I'll reedit at some later date.

Why I want children

When Tertia asked this question on her blog. I didn't reply in the comments. I didn't know what to say. This is somewhat unlike me. I say a lot. Not so much on people's comments until recently, but that's due to a novel internet shyness (why would goddesses of infertility such as Tertia, Grrl, or Julie want to listen to what I have to say?). No, in real life (IRL as we used to say on IRC), I generally have an opinion and mostly I'll talk about it.

But this is a tough question. I've been thinking about it for a while, and the problem with coming up with a tagline on this question is that there is no straight intellectually valid answer. I've always wanted children. When I was as young as 8 or 9 I was looking after my younger cousins at our annual holiday parties. When I was 14 I started babysitting and as a chronically shy, chubby teenager it was a great way of having something to do on Saturday night that didn't involve propping up the wall with a drink I didn't like in one hand and a cigarette that made me choke in the other, waiting for someone (anyone!) to come and talk to me. But I didn't do it for the entertainment value, or for the money, but because I loved taking care of smaller children. I loved making up stories that would put them to sleep, I loved holding the babies (so much so that I several times made the mistake of waking an infant by looking in on them too often). I loved that sensation of enhancing their lives just a little bit.

Since I became an adult, I have acquired godchildren. All goddaughters, apart from my nephew. I now have six goddaugthers and my nephew makes seven. The goddaughters range in age from 3 to 19, and all but one were in my wedding in May last year (the eldest was in the middle of exams and couldn't make it). I'm a great godmother. I give fabulous presents, which are almost always the exact thing that they wanted, particularly if it's something that their parents weren't 100% approving of. I listen. I spend time with them (not so good at that recently). I tell stories. I ask the right questions.

With two of the goddaughters I have a particularly strong relationship. One of them I saw at least once a week from when she was conceived to when she was 3. Then I moved countries, but she's now 10 and we're still very close. We speak on the phone a few times each year, and we generally see each other about once a year, and miraculously our relationship doesn't seem to have weakened. It was a day when she was about 2 years old, as I thought about how much I loved her, that made me realise how much I would love my own children.

I want to give that love to someone. And I'll be honest here since no one knows me (and anyway, as far as I can tell only Sandy and Orodemniades are reading this and they seem like understanding people), I envisage myself giving that love to a daughter. I never had a sister, so maybe that's why. Or maybe I just identify as so strongly female that I imagine loving a female child. Now don't get me wrong, I know I would love a son too, but it's the daughter I dream about.

I know we will have children one way or another. But right now I don't know what that "another" might be, and I'm scared. And sad. And excited about what is to come

Waiting

So much of this infertility business is about waiting. First, the wait to ovulate, then the wait to see if you managed to conceive. Then repeat that times at least six, before you realise that it isn't going to work that way. Then wait for your first doctor's appointment. Then wait to get an appointment for the tests. Then wait for the next doctor's appointment. Then wait for the first procedure...and so on. But those of us who seem to be blogging about infertility are all high achievers who've don't previously seem to have specialised in waiting. Is the whole goal of this trial to teach us patience?

Right now I'm just in a 'normal' two week wait (2ww). It's very unlikely that we've conceived this month, but the hope bitch is hanging around anyway. The test day is my husband's birthday. "Wouldn't it be lovely," she whispered in my ear earlier today, "if you could present him with a positive pregnancy test on the day of his birthday." My only reply was "shut up bitch" but it's not that easy to get her out of here.

So I've baked a cake, from a recipe that I found at a lovely blog nothing to do with infertility the red kitchen. I'm about to have some for tea, then I really must get on with work. Yes, it's another Sunday afternoon contaminated with work. That's just continuing until I get over my need for consumption and decide I can cope with living in a little house in the middle of nowhere.

Unintentional poking

I had one of those experiences today. I've read about them on other blogs, but this was the sharpest one I've had. There are not that many women in my company at my level, so we take the opportunity to spend time together as a group at these conferences. Today there were 3 pregnant women and one baby present. When we were introducing ourselves to each other, one of the pregnant women said cheerily, "yes I was married in May, expecting in June - isn't that great!!"

We were married in May.

The talking cure

Thanks to Orodemniades for the comment on the last post. It's such a stressful situation and it makes such a difference to be able to share it.

The good news is that when my husband, H., got back from his drive, we had a very productive conversation about the situation between us. As always it seems that sex is a symptom, rather than a root cause issue. H. shared with me the fact that he often feels I don't love him, and this makes him feel crappy about himself. That feeling comes from when I'm having a hard time, and I get impatient and hard to talk to. Almost always it's nothing to do with him, but that's not how it feels to him. This is hard for me as one of the reasons I fell in love with him was because he seemed so able to deal with my volatile moods, was such a rock of emotional stability. Well, it seems as if that has really taken it out of him emotionally.

We ate dinner together and talked things through. We discussed how we need to deal with this in several ways. Talk more. He needs to tell me when he's feeling that way so that I can reassure him. I need to try to manage my mood better. A few months ago I started meditating and that seemed to help keep me calmer, but I've been crap at keeping up with it. I should try and force myself to make the time to do it.

One of the main things I realised is that he is a bit the strong and silent type. I never saw him that way, perhaps because I'm so emotional and so vocal. He doesn't find it easy to express his feelings and ideas, and I know when I'm in an impatient mood I don't give him enough time to get his words together. It reminded me of what Tertia said about Marko. So I really need to take a deep breath and let him think things through in his own time.

After this good discussion, I finished my work, then went upstairs to pack for my trip this week, and found him wanting to give ttc sex another chance. And it was great - for both of us! I wish we didn't have to go through such trauma to get to that point, but at least we got there in the end. Of course this meant that I only got ~4 hours sleep and forgot to bring my swimming costume and a couple of other essentials to this fancy resort that I'm at this week on a business conference, but for the sake of at least one attempt at conception this month, it's worth it!

The real issue

The content below is explicit. Please don't read if you're not comfortable with that. It's not titillating, it's just our real story. I needed to write it tonight.

The real issue here - or at least the current presenting issue, Lord knows what else is wrong with us - is my husband's impotence. We've only been able to have penetrative sex maybe 15 times in the 2.5 years we've been together, all of them since we got married so that's 10 months. The first time, ironically, was our wedding night. After nearly 2 years together, on our wedding night, the ultimate stress-filled night, he manages to get and sustain an erection. Sex for the next couple of months was really good, he gradually got better and better and more and more comfortable. Then on the night of another friend's wedding we had sex at the 'right' time of the month for the first time. This was the 29th of July. We didn't get pregnant that month, but no big deal.

Then suddenly in August he couldn't get it up again. "I'm just tired", he said the first time. A few days later he was tired again. By the third weekend it was clear the problem was back. We went back to the counsellor he, and then I, had been seeing before we got married to help him with this. All through the autumn, no penetrative sex. Pretty hard to get pregnant that way although on a couple of occasions where he did at least manage to orgasm, I tried scooping up the stuff and putting it inside me. Unsurprisingly it didn't work.

He didn't want to go and see a doctor either for a drug to help the erections, or for e.g., referral for an IUI as he felt that would make him feel even worse. Then at Christmas, as described below, I finally got too stressed out to continue keeping it a secret, and told my friend R. That conversation made me feel empowered to explain to him just how worried I was that by waiting until his problem was fixed, I'd be too old for us to get pregnant. I got so freaked out just before Christmas when we were failing again to have sex at the right time of the month, that he was sufficiently freaked out to go to the doctor and get a prescription for an ED drug. Not the V one, the P one, as it's supposed to be a bit milder, less side effects.

On Christmas Day, having cooked for our entire extended families, we had sex. Penetrative sex. At the right time of the month. And again the next day. No pregnancy. January, after a couple of nights of it not working, we managed it again. February there were two nights when we failed completely, but managed it twice again. The second time he'd taken a day off work after a particularly stressful evening the night before trying to make it work, and it seemed as if he'd had a breakthrough. Some of the problem, he explained, seemed to be that this was the one thing in our relationship he could control. I earn much more than him, am much more verbal than him, have more money in my family than him, and he hates his job - feels very unfulfilled. So part of the continued failure of our sex life he said, was him trying to be the boss for a change. That night, the night before I ovulated we had sex straight away, with no need to stop and restart several times for him to get his erection back, which had been what was happening on most of the other occasions of the last few months. He said that for him it was the best sex we'd ever had together. Hooray, I thought, that's it, we're fixed.

Only we weren't. Last night and tonight have been horrible failures. Tonight was probably the worst yet. I've sobbed, he has sobbed (I've never seen him cry before), and he's now gone out for a drive. I'm worried about him, and I'm worried that we will never fix this problem. We may be able to get pregnant through IUI or IVF, but if we can't have a good sex life, I'm not sure how healthy this relationship will be long term.

I wish I really understood what was in his head. The problem started with his last serious girlfriend before me, and he's never been able to fully articulate what started it, nor what makes it continue. Just now before he went out he said something about how "this at least gives you a good reason to be angry with me." When I asked him what he meant, he said that I get angry a lot, and often he's not sure why. He's right that I'm angry more than I want to be. Often it's not because of him, but I probably show it to him as I can't to anyone else.

I don't know what to do.

Slings and arrows

So the week of shit ended well. The big fuck-off meeting was a success. And I got told personally what a good job I and the team had done, which did make me feel a bit better. Of course the team wasn't there in person given the trans-atlantic nature of the meeting.

Towards the end of the meeting I got an email from the leader of my team telling me how crappy they were feeling, how they couldn't go on like this, and it took a lot of the pleasure away. The email made me feel as if it's all my problem to fix, not a joint issue that we need to solve together. I know this is my neurosis (partially) - I always feel responsible for everything. As it happens, I did have a discussion with the client that means we can probably rescope the project and make everyone's life much better, so things are hopefully looking up. But I wish they'd let me have one day of feeling a bit better about my professional life without needing to remind me that life has been difficult recently.

So I'm on my way home tonight for a weekend of nookie. I think we may have missed ovulation. Since I thought we wouldn't be trying this month I haven't been religiously peeing on OPKs and taking temperatures and the signs point to either an ovulation that's a long way off (bad because I'll be gone for 4 days from Monday), or already happened (bad because it would mean my cycles are buggered, and because we'll have missed this month completely due to utter lack of nookie for the last 10 days). In the meantime I have to hang around because one of the fuckwits changed the ending time of the meeting to 2 hours earlier than planned and didn't tell me, and by the time I found out all the planes home were booked up.

Today is not a bad day, I think I'm just being very glass-half-empty. I'll buy myself some peanut butter MnMs at the airport and that will make me feel better. Won't it?

Dumb decisions?

I cancelled the hsg for Monday. If I wanted to sound all rational and stuff, I could say that I did it solely because I needed to spend time with my team before I disappear off for a week. Of course then I'd sound like I'm prioritising work over having a family, which would sound really dumb, so I guess it's heads I lose, tails I don't win. But anyway, if I'm 100% honest (like what I haven't been with my husband) I did it because I don't want to skip a month trying. Now the timing is still going to be bad this month as I'm away tonight and tomorrow night (CD10 and 11), back Sat and Sun, gone again monday, but at least we get a little window of opportunity there.

This is all going to sound even more stupid when they find out the real medical reason we can't conceive. But since the fuckwits won't give us any results over the phone, this is the best I can do for now.

SBIH

Something very sad and bad is happening to Julia right now. I know (almost) no one is coming here, but if you have come here without having visited Julia, it would be great if you could go and give her a hug. Julia I am so very very sorry.

Telling

For a long time, I didn't tell anyone about the problems we were having in trying to conceive. Particularly since part of the problem is my husband's ere%cti%le issue, it felt very private. Eventually I started to go mad trying not to say anything while holding down my high-stress job, and getting all the usual "so when will you start trying" questions. Didn't help that my sister-in-law conceived the first month they tried this summer etc.

So at Christmas, when one of my best friends was home for a month, I invited myself round for dinner so I could talk with her about it. I chose her since I knew she had used IUI for both her pregnancies, having failed to get pregnant for 18 months after she got married. It was such a relief to talk about it. She was fantastically understanding and really pragmatically helpful. I went home feeling renewed and much better able to deal with the situation.

Later that same week I saw my erstwhile 'best friend' for the first time in ages. Now I do love her, but she can be very self-involved. She told me she was pregnant again, by accident, and she wasn't happy about it. I decided to let her know what we were going through. She was good about it, but it wasn't quite the same satisfying experience as friend 1, largely I think because she couldn't empathise with it. Although she struggled to get pregnant with number two, the experience didn't seem to be as profoundly depressing for her as it currently is for me. So I was still glad I'd told her, but the differential was lower.

Since then I have discussed the situation with a work colleague, and to my three college buddies, although in both cases I haven't mentioned my husband's part in this. They've all been supportive but I'm not sure they really know what to say, so the relief was less the feeling of support I'd received from my first telling, and more that at least I wasn't lying to them.

I'm glad I've told people. I haven't told my husband that I told friends 1 and 2 about his side of things, as I think it would destroy his morale further. But it's made a huge difference to my ability to cope. And I think this blog is another part of telling. It enables me to let things out rather than keep them in. That's got to be good, right?

Stress

So do you guys (the none of you who are reading this except Sandy, but it makes me feel better to believe you are out there) believe that stress affects fertility? Because if it does, I haven't got a hope. I am working with a bunch of fuckwits at the moment, and I seem to be unable to improve things. I've tried all different ways to get them to listen to me that we are running this project all wrong, but all I get back is "yes thalia, we know you feel that way, now get on with it." The annoying thing is that I didn't really want to do this project in the first place, but now I've signed up I can't really sign off.

My fertility doc thinks stress is a problem for me. Any help on how to handle this?

Contaminated creativity

Today my brother was supposed to come for a late lunch. He is always late so we assumed when he said two o'clock, if we cooked for three o'clock it would be ok. So my husband ran around yesterday, bought a lovely joint of organic lamb, the accompanying vegetables etc.. This morning I searched on line for a great dessert recipe which would allow me to use up the seville oranges we bought in a fit of optimism 10 days ago, largely because Nigella always goes on about how wonderful they are.

Two things have gone wrong. First, it's now nearly 5 o'clock and my brother isn't here. We have eaten, although my husband is now really pissed off re lack of respect etc. But the thing that's really upsetting me (apart from the fact that I have a full days work to do and I haven't started it yet), is that I've now tried twice to make seville orange curd, and have failed both times. The first time, the eggs curdled and it wasn't my fault. My husband reached underneath me to get the lamb out of the oven to braise it, and the steam from the lamb hit my pan and poof! curdled eggs.

This led to a crying fit where the words "can't create life, can't even create pudding" were heard. Let no one say I can't make a drama out of life's little set-backs.

After a shower, and a read of the new novel by my favourite author, just released yesterday, I had recovered enough to think that it was worth a second try given the lifetime's supply of Seville oranges we have lying around. So again I measured and zested and chopped and squeezed and beat everything together. I had everything set up well, including a bowl of ice as recommended by Nigella in case things started to go wrong. Unfortunately the mixture was too big for our wedding-present double boiler, so I assembled a make-shift one of a big mixing bowl over a saucepan of water. I suddenly realised that the water was about to boil, let go of the mixing bowl to turn the heat down and the steam rose up from the side of the saucepan, hit the side of the bowl, and....the eggs curdled. I tried the ice trick but it was too late. Bugger. And it all looked so lovely and even had started to taste lovely - sharp orange taste, smooth buttery taste, little bite of the zest. Yum. This time I was able to laugh about it at least, as I poured my lovely-tasting but disgusting-looking mixture down the sink.

The good news is I recovered enough to make a pavlova out of the remaining egg whites and that looks pretty good. Sunk but good. My husband is looking forward to it. But I know that this is just the evil disintegration of my ability to create anything taking hold on my cooking skills. It's a good thing I don't cook most evenings as I get home too late, or my husband would be poisoned by now.

Big trade-offs

In deciding we'd pay for the HSG ourselves, we now have a dilemma, which is that the date they've given us would rule out us trying for an entire cycle because it's scheduled for day 14. This is not just a problem because I usually ovulate between day 13 and 14, but because I have to leave on a work trip that afternoon for 5 days so even if we could still catch the egg, we won't be able to.

This feels very scary, for some sensible reasons and some stupid ones. The sensible ones (and I appreciate these are only semi-sensible) are that it's just one more cycle where we don't get pregnant and my eggs aren't getting any younger. Damn. There turns out to be only one sensible one.

The stupid ones include that if we don't get pregnant this cycle, but we do on the next try, the baby would be due between Christmas and New Year, which is a truly shit time to have a birthday. One of my friends was born on Boxing Day and she loathes her birthday because of this. It also increases the potential age difference between potential baby and my soon-to-be new nephew, who was conceived after we started trying, of course, but who is due in 2 weeks. It increases the age difference between potential baby and my best friends baby (see below), which is due in June, and was conceived long after we started trying.

Of course this assumes that we are able to get pregnant at all, which I know seems unlikely at this point.

Finally, having the HSG that morning is going to make it very difficult for me at work as I'm then out for a week on this trip, and my team were counting on me to get them set up for the week before I go away. There's a big meeting the following week that we need to pull out all the stops for, so if I'm at the hospital instead that will make all our lives a bit stressful trying to get the work done. Oh look, I found another sensible reason!!

I'm sorely tempted to cancel the HSG for this cycle, try on our own and if it doesn't work, schedule the HSG for April and if we have to miss that cycle, maybe that's ok because the child will thank us forever for not having such a shit birthday. Of course if we don't get pregnant in April we can't have a baby during 2005 which seems incredibly depressing. Well, just one more depressing thing to add to my list of depressing things.

Bad person

One of the reasons I had such a hard time this last cycle is that my sister-in-law is due on 17 March, and I was hoping I'd be pregnant before then so I wouldn't feel so horribly sad and jealous when the baby was born. I know I will be able to be happy for her, my brother, my nephew and the new baby, but I'll also be struggling to feel ok about myself.

My best friend is also pregnant, with her third. She got pregnant by accident and really didn't want another baby, let alone another girl - she has two girls already and thought she was done. Last night I spoke to her and got a hard time for not having called for a while. Now that's not entirely my fault as she hasn't exactly been ringing me every night. I have a more than full-time job, travel all the time, and am feeling sad a lot of the time about our lack of a pregnancy. She is a stay-at-home-mother, who lives in the house of my dreams, in the neighbourhood of my dreams, with the two (soon to be three) daughters of my dreams. So it would be nice to get some empathetic "how are you, I've been thinking of you". But that wasn't forthcoming. I heard about their ski trip, her husband's trips away, and her planned trip to a spa before the baby is due. I offered to accompany her on that trip and then it turned out she'd already agreed to go with another friend. So I feel hard done by about that, too.

Then this morning I went to check the 'buddy group' that I've been posting to on a ttc board, to find that one of the other women just got her bfp. She already has two children, and this is only the second month she's been trying. I'm struggling to feel good for her at all.

Why has this situation turned me into a bad person?

Wand monkeys

Well I had my first trans-vaginal ultrasound this morning - what a wierd experience. It was uncomfortable rather than painful although I got a real twinge when she dropped the wand at one point! Everything looked ok - a single very small cyst on both ovaries, less than 2cm which she said was nothing to worry about, they'll probably resolve during this cycle, and a fibroid on the outside of the uterus, again very small - less than 3 cm. She said 20% of women have a fibroid or two and unless I'm having v painful and heavy periods (I'm not) it's unlikely that this is the cause of any problems. Anyway, she took pictures and wrote a report and I get to discuss it with Dr Reputation when I see him (whenever that is).

Badish news is if I want the hsg before july I have to pay for it. But it only costs £250 so I think that's worth it. Unfortunately the only appointment they'll give me is Monday 14th, which is about the day I will ovulate. So that will rule out this cycle for conception completely. I'm a bit tense about that, and will reflect on it for the next few days to see if I'm uncomfortable enough to cancel it and wait til next month for this test.

Nicest thing today is that the centre I go to is a famous centre for IVF and they had a couple of boards with pictures of all the babies that have been born through treatment there with some of the letters. This was encouraging ("we'd been trying for 5 years, and now here are our twins", etc.). Beautiful babies. I have this fear that because IVF and particularly ICSI babies have been conceived through so much intervention that they are likely to somehow be less robust, less perfect than babies who are conceived "naturally". Before you flame me, I know this is ridiculous, but it's just one of many somewhat ridiculous fears I have right now, so I'm trying to ignore it but am not beating myself up for having it! Anyway, the photos I saw today made me feel a whole lot better.

So today I'm feeling optimistic again, go figure.

Beginning part way through

I've become addicted to reading the blogs of some amazing women over the last few months as my husband and I have gradually realised that getting pregnant wasn't going to happen as easily as it seems to have done for our friends and family. I am struggling to focus on anything else in my life right now, and am losing my sense of humour, and so thought that an inanimate diary might help. Hence this blog.  A long time ago on irc (anyone remember irc?) I used the screen ID Thalia and thought of her again today as I registered for typepad. As the comic muse, I thought she was an appropriate guardian for this journey - to stop me from becoming morbid (hence not chosing Melpomene, the tragic muse!)

It's been nearly 10 months since we married and started trying to conceive (ttc). My husband had erecti*le dys*func*tion (see if that fools the spammers) which obviously doesn't make this any easier, but after 5 cycles of using drugs to help him, we are still not pregnant. I'm aware this is a lot less long than the time many others have taken, but it seems like an awfully long time to this 38-year-old that has always always looked forward to being a mother, despite my successful and stretching career. Every month I cry for the baby that I won't have - my baby with the June birthday I always wanted for myself, my baby with the bonfire night birthday and so on.

So 3 weeks ago we saw a specialist. He wasn't negative, he wasn't positive, he just pointed out, as I knew, that at 38 I wasn't in a position to take a long time over this. So I've had the hormones tested ("normal" but I don't know the numbers yet), and been scheduled for more tests over the next few weeks. And so this blog begins...