Laura Munson - "I Don't Buy It."

Just re-read an article I pulled out from the paper a couple of weeks ago. Here is a bit:

One fine day, in the mountains of Montana, Laura Munson's husband said to her, 'I don't love you any more. I'm not sure I ever did. I'm moving out. The kids will understand. They'll want me to be happy.'

What is the normal reaction of this kind of announcement? You can sob and wail and get down on your knees and beg. Alternatively, you can pick up a meat cleaver and, when the car skids off the driveway, cut the crotch out of all his suits. But Munson did none of these things. She wasn't going to let him get away with this. She said, 'I don't buy it.'

He apparently looked surprised. The next thing he said was, 'I don't like what you've become.'

At this point, Munson says, 'a shroud of calm enveloped me.' Again she said, 'I don't buy it.'

Part of me thinks this is weak. How can she put up with being talked to like that, treated with such little kindness or respect. But part of me knows she is strong.

I need to memorise her words.

His words really were sticks and stones, it turned out.

She also asked him, 'What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?'. When he ranted she again said, 'I just asked: what can we do to give you the distance you need.'

She explains: 'Then he can't play victim. He has to take responsibility for his own well being. When you don't engage in the drama, it bounces back to the person who flung it in the first place.'

She uses the analogy of a child having a tantrum and shouting out that they hate you. You don't join in or answer back. You ignore the tantrum and walk away. Not that he was being a child. The spiritual malaise was a very profound personal crisis. But he needed time out. She had destructive thoughts. But kept her composure in front of her husband and children.

And the moral of it all? It's all about letting things go. Suddenly, the minute I let go of ever getting published, and of my marital outcome, that is when everything turns round.

2ww and nervous breakdowns

The lovely 2WW. Lovely limbo-land.

My friend also going through it all, who even ended up having the same transfer day as me, mentioned that someone said aches in the tummy area can mean implantation. As much as I tried not to let it, this inevitably made me think 'Ah! A sign!' every time I had a twinge. Regardless of the fact that I had my insides flushed several times last week - enough to make anyone twinge. Boobs sore as well. And yesterday I suddenly got all weak in town.

Signs, or recovery?

And, as if the 2WW wasn't enough to contend with, H seems to be having some sort of nervous breakdown too. Totally flipped out this weekend, twice. Ranting, raving, making no sense. First time we laughed it off and moved on. Then it happened all over again a day later. It seems he is an unreachable bundle of stress and anxiety and just can't cope any more.

I don't think he can help it. That's the worst. I can't be angry with him. There's no point. Explains why I have found him so unsupportive this IVF time around. He has been barely hanging on. Thing is I don't know how to help him either.

Have also let myself succumb to a coffee. Have been pretty good. I don't think I have ever yearned so much for a vodka shot as I did yesterday but I settled for nice caffeine free Rooibus tea.

Bingo

Bingo. Our one little egg fertilised. What a hero (heroine?).

Call came after a wierdly calm morning. Calm but very restless. House very tidy now. Now time to curl up and watch DVDs I think. Is a nice rainy day which is perfect.

To Be Or Not To Be... Positive

Whatever happens, this morning’s events have made me feel clearer about the ‘to be or not to be positive’ dilemma which has confused me for quite some time.

There is a school of thought which says you should be prepared for the realistic eventuality with IVF, have a clear idea about your likelihood of success. Ie, in our case, probable failure. Our last doctor even put this in her letter. ‘The couple are prepared for success to be unlikely’. She kept going on about it every step of the way. Even just before transfer. My acupuncturist told me about a client who was having IUI whose doctor said, at the actual moment he/she was transferring in the sperm: "We'll do IVF next time if this doesn't work."

Others, especially nurses I have found, believe it is very important to keep positive until you know the game is up. Being prepared and dwelling on negative outcomes certainly doesn’t stop you feeling the anguish of them if they actually happen, I can personally attest to that. It hurts no matter what. I seriously doubt it hurts more if you were completely positive before. Of course, doctors are perhaps understandably protecting themselves against patients accusing them if bad chances were not underlined. But this is about them. Their warnings do not help the patients in any way, prepare them for, or ease their hurt and grief.

It is not just that there are few negatives to being positive, there are actually many positives to being positive. At least along the IVF journey, until the result is definitive. It aids your quality of life. It potentially lowers stress levels. It definitely helps your relationships with your partner, friends and colleagues.

Until now I have sat on the fence on this debate. People should just feel as positive or negative as they feel, was my thought. You can’t force anything. It is good when you are hopeful regardless of doctor warnings but it can be a pressure to feel happy if you don’t. Plus for a long time I needed to vent, wallow in the mire, let myself be a miserable, stroppy mare. It seemed a necessary stage of acceptance after all the years of ‘trying’.

But while I still believe all this something has shifted in my thought pattern. It is subtle but it is there. It is not about not allowing yourself to be miserable. It is about letting yourself be positive once you have vented and feel strong enough to go on.

The anaesthetist who couldn’t find my follicle definitely didn’t help in her attempts to over-prepare me for my lack of follicles, and the chances of the lack of eggs in them. It was unnecessary anguish to deal with just before going ‘under’ on anaesthetic drugs. I could have been told the follicle was gone after, I was anyway, it simply didn’t help and made things worse to know this was a possibility before. She really, really (really) didn’t help when, as I was groggily resurfacing from general anaesthetic, she told me she did find something, but she wasn’t even sure it was an egg. Especially since it was, and she could have said they just needed to do some lab tests until they knew.

In contrast, the second anaesthetist, who did not seem to be in charge for some reason, said simply after the search for the missing follicle: "You only need one egg. There's a good follicle there. There's everything to be positive for."

"Thank-you," I remember saying as I lost focus and spaced out.

What Happened on Egg Collection Day

Well, it's not all over yet but it didn't go great. Understatement.

They did a scan just before I went in for collection and the main anaesthetist woman couldn't find the other follicle. She said they would have another proper look when I was under the anaesthetic. I do not know whether the original scanner saw something which wasn't a follicle or this woman just couldn't find it. I had problems with scanners not finding follicles last time when they ended up turning up.

When I woke up from the anaesthetic she said they searched and searched and couldn't find the follicle. She said she found something in the other follicle which might be an egg but she wasn't sure so sent it up to the lab for them to check.

I started to cry. It was all tears for a while then as they wheeled me back into the hospital room to see H. He was lovely and let me vent.

Then I got a phone call from the job people offering me the job. This did make me feel elated for a while though it was weird discussing start dates and the like from a hospital bed. Then the lab phoned and said the egg which didn't look like an egg was an egg and they would try and fertilise it. We will find out tomorrow if it worked.

The anaesthetist came in the room and looked very relieved and said "I was lucky". I don't feel lucky. Have serious reservations about her, but know the blame game is not helpful to anyone, especially me.

Was elated about the job and re-appearance of the egg for a while. This got me home. Propelled me through a sore journey to the train and on the train and to bed.

Now I am home the negativity seems to be returning. Going to finish this and write up another blog which I wrote on the train. I hope this might help.

Double yolker

So. D Day tomorrow. Eggies come out. In myself, feel ok. I feel OK about the 2 follicle thing now. What will be will be. And you only need one good eggie. I holding out for a double yolker.

But things have been tense with H again. He kept letting me down all weekend and just doesn't seem to be in this experience with me this time at all, which makes me feel so lonely. But then, I am very demanding of him at the moment too. I have no tolerance at all. And if this all works out, I know things would be ok. It is the infertility which has torn us so apart. If it doesn't who knows but will deal with that then.

Had a job interview this morning also and haven't a clue how it went, but I really want the job all of a sudden. Can really imagine myself there, being happy.

Fingers crossed that luck is about to change. Had an email back from that friend who I had a falling out with last year. Seems there's a chance of recovery there. So if we go by the 'everything goes in threes' theory that is the first good thing, and there are two more to follow. Job and, i dare not say the other one but I think it is obvious what it should be.

Only 2 Follicles But They Are Good Ones, Apparently

Well. What a day. Went to the clinic for what I expected to be just a scan and now we are down to do egg collection on Tuesday. It happened so fast.

There are only 2 follicles which made me cry. There were 4 last time and that was considered low. In the old clinic she would not have recommended going ahead with just 2.

But they seem to see it different at the new place. They said they were good follicles - full size. They also said the fact that the follicles had grown to full size so quickly, in just a week, was a good sign. Meant they were good quality. H said he remembered the doctor saying she would be pleased with 2, and that just 2 would be good. The lovely nurse said the fact that both were the same size was a good thing too. Not 100% sure what it all means when people say all these things are good things but it doesn't hurt to have faith and believe them all I suppose.

The nurse was a godsend. At my last visit the nurse was quite cold and clinical and I just felt she was irritated at every question I asked, but thankfully this one was warm and caring and exactly what I needed. I wanted to take her home with me. keep her for all emergencies, in the spare room. A girl who had been in the waiting room with her mum at the same time as me, went in for her scan just after me. I had come out flabbergasted and confused about the egg collection, downhearted about the only 2 follicles thing, waiting to see the nurse. Then that same girl had come out to get her mum, dripping with tears. I recognised that expression so well, and how it had changed from just a few minutes before when we had been sat, with fear and hope, waiting for our scans, our updates - maybe our futures. Things can change so completely in such a short space of time.

Anyhow, it all started me off, and the nurse came out to find me dripping with tears too.

But rollercoaster moments. By the time I came out from seeing her I felt a lot better. The tears then returned when I phoned H and he didn't immediately pick up. I felt so lonely walking through London streets alone without anyone to share my thoughts with. I even started thinking about that girl's mum and how she had been there. It got better as soon as he did call back. But then I was dazed and so, so tired when I went to a pre-arranged meet with 2 old school friends. Nice sitting in the park in the sun but very unreal.

Now I am just so weary and stunned from it all. Worried about all the re-arranging I have to do as it all happened so fast, but trying to just go with it. Be passive. It's supposed to be good to be passive - your body is supposed to be more responsive that way.

I have managed to get myself an acupuncture appointment for the Monday which is good. I could probably do without the job interview on Monday morning but hey ho, maybe the distraction will be a good thing - on both counts. I can't see myself getting as nervous as I usually do about the interview this time. It is with the RSPCA. I like the sound of that. It would be wrong to pass the opportunity up.