So, the news is out. You know where we’re at... My Instagram and my blog have finally married up (see what I did there? Seeing as this blog was supposed to be all about weddings?!) and if you’ve been keeping up with me like the Kardashians then you know every single detail about me, my husband, our wedding, and our sex life. Lucky you!
I ‘came out’ about our infertility around Easter 2019. And it was so completely, unashamedly liberating. But one of the many questions I’ve been asked is: “Why now?” And do you know what? Why the hell not?! Why didn’t I do it sooner? Why was I so ashamed about our diagnosis that I felt like I had to walk around for three years with this black cloud of despair and depression hanging over us?! Because ultimately, that’s what infertility is... it's a recognised illness by the World Health Organisation which affects – and I will say this until I’m blue in the face – ONE IN EIGHT OF US!!
Think about that the next time you’re sitting down to lunch with your work colleagues, or at the cinema, or just paying for milk in the supermarket. Take a look around you, and think – it could be them. You may not realise it, but asking someone “when” they’re going to have kids is one of the most insensitive things you can do. Even asking someone who’s already had kids when the second one is going to come along – secondary infertility is a real thing, too. Joking about a pregnancy on April Fool’s Day is NOT a joke. It’s probably hurting someone that you know without even realising it.
I never once asked my auntie (the only one in the family who doesn’t have children) why she didn’t have them, I think subconsciously I just knew there was something more to it. And she only recently told me that not only did she not want them herself, but she realised that there are so many people in the world who do, so in 2000 she selflessly donated her eggs so that someone else could become a mother. She went through all the same shit I did – the injections, the counselling, the egg retrieval – even the wait of finding out if her eggs had made it and if her recipient had given birth to a healthy baby! This just goes to show, that even 19 years later, she was only ready to open up about her experience just to prove that we weren’t alone in this ride, albeit hers was of the route of a donor.
And this is the part that got me – the stories that flood in as soon as you open up. How many of my friends have experienced miscarriages? Too many to count. That statistic is a heart-breaking ONE IN FOUR of us, remember (and think about that the next time you start poking around someone else’s baby business – you don’t know what wounds you’re opening up). You start to hear about people who have offered to become surrogates for their sisters, or donated sperm to a struggling brother. You hear about the awful stories of the people who have been through 7 years of infertility, 10 rounds of IVF, thousands of pounds worth of debt... And still no baby. Yet people still don’t talk about it enough.
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| Yeah I did it. An unashamed, post baby-making selfie - legs up, of course! J always made sure I had a book or my phone handy afterwards while we waited for his swimmers to "do their thing". Who said love is dead?! |
So yes, why did I finally open up? To tell you the truth, I was tired. I was tired of lying, of plastering on a fake smile and telling people that we were happy just practising for now. But my god, it was terrifying. Here I am, literally telling the world that my husband and I were screwing at every opportunity possible just on the off-chance that I could fall pregnant, and it wasn’t fucking working! Quite frankly, most of my circle knew what was going on by now, and work colleagues were starting to cotton on to how much sick time I’d had off – I couldn’t keep track of who knew what – so, I thought if I started this blog then everyone would be on the same page and I would be able to let people know what was going on with my uterus on my terms, at my pace.
IVF gets such a bad rep from some people, who say we shouldn’t be meddling in ‘God’s Plan’ or that ‘everything happens for a reason’. Yes, mine and my husband’s bodies have failed us – that’s the reason. Our basic human instinct to procreate is buggered because of an illness that is completely out of our hands. Just like the fact that J has diabetes – it's not his fault, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows his body has a slight flaw, but that doesn’t stop him from going about his day to day life. And infertility shouldn’t either.
There was a time (and some days there still is) when I let it consume me to the point of depression. But infertility does not define me. It made up 10% of my life, but it does not define me. It does not define my blog, or my Instagram feed. Let me be clear – I am not an IVF blogger – I blog about IVF, among other things in my life that I feel passionate about. I don’t know if this will become a “mummy blog” when Baby B does make his or her grand entrance, but for now I’m enjoying writing about my experiences and giving my head a healthy distraction from the anxieties that the first trimester has given me (see next week’s post!) At the end of the day, I just like to write, and I think I’m fairly good at it. I’ve finally found a hobby that doesn’t leave me out of pocket or crying on the kitchen floor – hurrah! (And if any book publishers out there think that my content is half decent, then please hit me up.)
I count my lucky stars Every. Single. Day that we’re finally pregnant. I don’t know if it’s because of the fertility makeover I gave myself before this round of IVF. I don’t know if it’s because the grandparents we lost whilst going through treatment were cheering us on from beyond. I don’t know if it’s because I demanded extra progesterone support, because I read that there was a slight chance it could reduce miscarriage rates. I don’t know if it’s because I practised mindfulness every night before I went to sleep, or because I cut toxic drama out of my life. What I do know though, is that the support we have gotten through going public with our journey has been overwhelming, and I truly believe that your words of encouragement have most definitely helped us through the hardest time.
Thank you for staying with me, so far. This ride is far from over!
KEB x