So it’s been three weeks since our first IVF appointment and since then...there’s been no change. After waiting two weeks I started chasing the referral up – it’s not that I’m impatient, but I’ve had my referrals lost in hospitals before. While it’s fine to wait my turn, I don’t think I could bear to waste another cycle just because my letter was lost on someone’s desk.
I had much better luck on Monday morning when I finally reached the secretary who was quite lovely. Apparently it’s sitting in a pile of letters the doctor needs to read and evaluate. I couldn’t help but ask if she had any idea how long that would take, and she offered to chase it up for me. I suspect I won’t be hearing anything soon.
So that’s the practicalities, but emotionally the waiting is starting to take its toll. Certainly when it comes to blogging I’ve found myself unable to write. Trying to conceive is now so completely beyond my control that I try not even to think about it. I spend all my energy trying to ignore the elephant in the room that it doesn’t leave much else to talk about. I even find it hard to leave people comments on blogs, Twitter & Facebook. I find myself withdrawing and insulating myself.
The waiting isn’t easy, all parents-to-be worry if they are going to be good enough or strong enough – but infertility leaves you years to doubt yourself. This especially doesn’t help when people question your judgement.
Recently someone suggested I was too ill to have a baby – well, technically they asked what I was going to do about my crippling fatigue if we have a baby - but as there isn’t a treatment it’s obvious there is nothing I can do about it. While I can come up with all sorts of plans which I hope will help, it seems obvious to me that I won’t know until I get there. I frequently hear stories about parents-to-be who declare their children won’t watch TV or eat processed foods, only to change their tune when the child actually arrives. What I’ve learned from the many mothers I know is that somehow they cope. Maybe they don’t have home cooked meals on the table every day or the house looks a tip, but they are all good mothers with happy children. I’m not in this alone and it seems to me that all I can do is have confidence that Mr Goldfish and I will step up to the challenge.
This was originally written for the Emma's Diary Blog.