Thyroid and AMH despair

I just had an appointment with a thyroid specialist, referred to by our fertility specialist. He doesn't think I have a thyroid problem. This is a good thing, but has made me sad.

I was so bouyant going up to London to see him. So hopeful. I even wore my sunny yellow cardigan and bought a colourful new bag. I was on the road to IVF again. It was exciting.

Those horrible months when it looked like H was going to pull away from it all were over. He had come around, at least for this cycle. It seemed he had just been afraid. It was all on again.

But now it is me who is afraid. Going through those papers again, explaining to the new guy our story, I remembered how bleak it is.

My AMH should be higher than 5, yet it is consistently 0.7. This is extraordinarily low and means I have hardly any eggs, or good eggs, am not sure which. I also have high FSH which means the same thing.

It is not something anyone has an explanation for. Or knows how to treat.

How I long for twisted fallopian tubes. Or cysts. Or anything clear cut and graspable. I especially long for us to be back to when they thought all that was wrong with us was H's low sperm count.

But what I have seems unfixable, a mystery. The NHS won't touch us. Not even the local private clinic held out much hope. We are going to the last chance saloon in London, the specialists in hopeless causes.

I went to this doctor because one of the tests I did with one of the people I have seen showed I have some high thyroid anti-bodies. This can sometimes have repercussions for fertility and mean the embryo doesn't 'stick' to the lining of the womb. This is easy to treat.

I suppose I had hoped he was going to say: "That's what it is," and there would have been an easy treatment. I even read something which said IVF chances increased to 50% with this treatment.

But my high antibodies are the ones which don't matter. The specialist said there is nothing wrong with me in that way at all.

Even if there had been, he said, it would have been a whole new issue, not connected to the AMH/FSH. It would not explain it, or suddenly make it treatable, but be an added thing which is wrong. We can obviously do without that, so it is good that my anti-bodies are the wrong ones.

Yet suddenly I feel like H, that this is all futile. Just when I persuaded him otherwise. I can't tell him. And nobody else will understand.

Confessions of a Tempee

In my current confusion I have found myself temping almost full time.

I haven't completely squashed ideas of freelancing or redirecting into another career but I have to take one step at a time and do what is right for the moment.

Obviously the money ain't great, and there are moments when I find myself stuffing envelopes and wondering how this came about. But on the whole I am loving it. Loving the freedom. Loving the 9-5. Loving the walking home unburdened at the end of the day, watching office politics from a distance.

Most of all I am loving dipping into lives I didn't know existed. Finding the world ripe with eccentricity. My current 'boss' in the marketing department of a snack food re-saler is Alan Partridge. Not a bad man, but definitely existing via a reality all of his own.

On my first day he self-importantly took me into a meeting room to tell me all about the company. He then got into a battle with his loud, rumbling stomach, which kept on interrupting his speech. Rather than smile at the situation, or even ignore it - he got angry. At every rumble he gave a dirty look downwards, shifting furiously in his chair. There was even some clearing of the throat to communicate his displeasure, as daggers flew from his eyes. I tried to smile reassuringly, but to no avail.

In the end he stabbed his hand into a box in the corner (presumably stock supposed to be sent somewhere) and pulled out a chocolate bar which he proceeded to eat.

Later in the day I heard him on the phone to someone responsible for a cigarette advert. "We need to move this line to the bottom somewhere," he said. "The one that says smoking can seriously damage blah blah blah. It is a bit negative, don't you think?"

Kindness of a Stranger

The last few months have been resplendent with tears. I still do not understand it all but it seems we are moving forward now with a few scars.

There have been many days of walking and crying alone. Turning up to friends doorsteps in that state stopped being helpful. It was a state of mind I needed to deal with on my own. Save seeing friends for when I wanted to have fun or chats or be in life again. I can maybe talk about some of the tears in retrospect but I don't want to be seen as the forever crying friend, or be the forever crying friend.

There was one stranger who entered my solo space, though, who I will never forget.

After a yoga class, on the way to see a friend for coffee, I walked down by the sea. Something about the wild waves, twinkling sun and families having picnics made this wave of anguish overcome me from nowhere. I was crippled up, and found myself hunched up on a doorstep not knowing how to stop it, how to move on.

She came up and said "breathe this!". She held out a small silver perfume bottle. "Breathe deeply," she said, "have a squirt of this."

Puzzled, I nodded. She squirted, I breathed. I cried. It was all repeated. I may or may not have smiled thank-you. She said, "Go down on the beach and throw stones into the water. Really throw them. Really hard."

I staggered down. Felt a bit of a fool. But threw those stones. And felt calmer.

I don't know if she saw me.

I had a nice, normal chat with my friend.

Hallelujah

We are finally making tentative steps forward. An appointment at the IVF clinic. Thank god.

It is not yours to bear

I love a bit of telly costume drama on a Sunday night. It makes me feel comforted and warm like a fluffy dressing gown in front of the fire.
There's always plenty of old-fashioned values about helping out your neighbour, people really loving each other no matter what and some words of wisdom to bring tears to your eyes.
The words of wisdom offered up last Sunday have been reverberating with me all week. A recluse hides away in his grief refusing help. A woman tries to force help upon him. "I cannot bear your isolation," she says.
"It is not yours to bear," he says.
When H slips into his moods of fury and depression and locks himself into the world he is in at the moment - there is nothing I can do to reach him. And I cannot bear it. And he won't let me in to try and help. He doesn't let anyone in.
I know I have been difficult to cope with over this infertility business. I know it has obsessed me and made me very emotional at times. I know I have lost a lot of the joy he fell in love with me for.
But it is not all about me. He is using me as an excuse. His withdrawing is about him as much as me. Him not being able to cope, being confused, being scared, whatever. I still truely believe he wants to do IVF really, just wants to hide away and wait until he is ready and can cope.
But time is running out. My periods are getting worse and worse and I am convinced I am heading towards early menopause and I am terrified.
We are getting on so much better now, we are tender with each other and kind. There has even been a bit of laughter - of fun. Just so long as we don't mention the unmentionable.
I can't bring it up again yet. We are still learning to enjoy each other again as well as battling flu symptoms and the daily tiredness of life in winter. Forcing the issue again might send us reeling back to square one again. Especially if I inadvertedly pick the wrong time.
But the longer it is left dangling the lesser chance I have of ever having that longed for baby in my arms. And him. The lesser chance he has of being the wonderful dad I know he longs to be.
There are times when I just cannot bear it. And surely it is mine to bear too.

Grrrrrrrr

A friend phoned me up this morning in tears. She has been trying for a baby for quite some time and been enviably serene about it all but may have reached breaking point.
Her sister just told her she was pregnant and she found herself upset. I think what she was most upset about was being upset. She didn't want to have that reaction, she didn't want to be like that. She was happy for her sister. But also felt like it was unfair. She was older and she had been trying for ages. And the reminder hurt.
I tried to tell her she was allowed those feelings but I don't think I got through.
It makes me very angry that it is considered so unacceptable to have such feelings that people like us end up feeling like we are horrible and mean on top of everything else.
Grrrrrrr.

Limbo-Land

Again it has been a long time since I wrote.
Things with H completely broke down and we went through a very black time when we could not reach each other or communicate in any way.
Things feel better now in the sense that we are laughing together again. Cuddling, talking, being a couple. But I still do not understand what happened or what it all means for the future. We have not addressed any of things that made things fall apart, they are still unaddressable and unbearable.
We have not talked about the 'plans' side of thing and I do not know whether we are going to do the IVF or not. I do not think I should even broach the subject at the moment. I know I shouldn't. I think it would make things explode again. I have to be patient. wait in Limbo-Land and start living for the now.
This is hard on my head. I want to there to be a plan. But it can't be forced. We have to concentrate on the moment and us and getting better together slowly.

I am drinking quite a lot of alcohol as well which makes things better in a way but also makes me feel guilty and in despair.