Reinventing, me.

As I sit at my desk and type, get up to put a file away, walk the length of the long corridor to greet a visitor, I can’t help but feel immensely frustrated. I want to escape, run far away and never look back. This has been my life for 5 years and yet, I despise it. I question myself every day. Why do I continue to pigeon hole myself with this nonsense and let a job that shouldn’t define me, define me?

I no longer want to be a slave to paper, to other people, to answering the phone for someone. I want to spend 40 hours a week doing something I enjoy. Doing something that gives my life meaning and purpose. I want to be proud of myself and proud of my achievements.

I’ve decided to refocus, re-evaluate , reinvent me! I’m going to try out things that I think I might like. Things I’ve always thought I might be good at, but self doubt and anxiety about failing have convinced me otherwise. So, I’ve signed up to a long distance course.

Things won’t change immediately, I know this. There are still many phones and doors I need to answer for other people, but all new adventures have to start somewhere. Hopefully in a years time, I can open a new door just for myself!


I didn’t think of you

Today my ex wished me a Happy New Year and I returned the salutation. We don’t often talk for no other reason than I guess we forget about each other. He is the sort of guy to cut contact when there’s a new lady in his life, but a lot of men do this and I don’t begrudge him that.

I asked about his life and he reported that although he was still single, he’s doing ok and has got onto the property ladder. He asked about mine. I was reluctant to tell him about everything, but decided there was no point in holding back. He did ask after all. I told him about our infertility. He was shocked but quickly asked if it was because of what happened between us. Other than past/current relationships and my closest friends, I haven’t told people what happened between us. Mostly because of the stigma. Also because its a highly emotive subject. Lastly, because it tears me apart and its ALWAYS in the back of my mind…. I’ve never gotten over it.

Back in 2009 we had sex and although we took precautions, we got pregnant. I was very ill and just struggling for many other reasons, so we decided not to continue with the pregnancy. He said he’d stand by me whatever decision I made, which I appreciated. I’m sure I fell deep into a depression soon after… It took a very long time to lift, to accept. Years, in fact. We stayed together for a few months after but our relationship couldn’t be sustained. We spoke briefly, until I got into another relationship the following year. We never discussed what happened.

Our conversation today is the first time we’ve brought it up. He told me he used to think about it all the time. Although it really shouldn’t, it shocked me. He never said anything. He didn’t talk about it, appeared quite blasé. So, I never once asked how he felt. I was too consumed by my own guilt, depression and sadness that I never asked, I didn’t think about him. I thought he’d have told me how he was feeling. I wished I’d have been in a better place to talk to him.. Maybe have counselling together. Deal with it, together.

He’s said he’s worried about his fertility, due to his lifestyle. I hope his fertility is ok. I’ve told him to get checked over. I’d feel awful for him if it wasn’t and if 10 years ago was his only chance. Our only chance.

Pmdd, sleep and me!

Last night I had a terrible sleep. Spent most of tossing and turning and listening to some idiot snoring! It couldn’t be further away from the peaceful dreamy slumber I’ve become accustomed to over the last 6 months.

Just before the great UK heatwave and in the midst of my brain having a misophnia and insomnia war, I took myself into the spare room to enable my bf to continue living and not be wiped off the planet in my fit of rage.

Previously I’d had terrible nights in the spare room and hated being relegated there, but this night I found solace. I found peace, comfort and everything I had been searching for… A great night sleep! I woke up in a fabulous mood and no more irritable than normal.

Once the heatwave was well underway we decided to stick with the separate beds.. As I’d only get frustrated and he likes to sleep with the windows open. I however don’t need to be part of A Bugs Life :The sequel, so I keep windows closed at all times. We told ourselves we’d recommence the combined sleeping situation come winter, when the coldness started to creep in…. Well, its December. The coldness and the winter are here and I have no intentions whatsoever of going back. I’m enjoying my sleep. I’m enjoying feeling rested and not getting upset and agitated by noise, lights or anyone else.

I always see posts on social media about men and women having a terrible sleep because of their other half and I wonder why they insist on putting themselves through it. Forget the closeness, forget the intimacy, forget what society says you should be doing. Do what you need to do for you as an individual and a partnership…. figure out what’s best for both!

Our relationship is much better and I can’t stress at him for bedroom related things. He’s happier sleeping alone and so am I. He’s still a lazy bastard that doesn’t do any housework unless nagged, but hey, one thing at a time! I genuinely don’t think I ever want to share a bed with anyone again. I value my mental health way too much to compromise it for the sake of keeping to societies standards. Everyday we kiss and swap I love you’s, we still cuddle and have an active sex life… Not sleeping next to him for 8 hours a day won’t change that.

We’re Moving

2 years ago when we moved in together, I absolutely adored this flat. Thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. Our own little love nest. Approximately 6 months later when we discovered that living in a top floor flat during the hottest summer ever, with very few windows that living here long term wasn’t going to be possible.

Add to that, the ridiculous lack of storage space (he’s the hoarder), no access to a garden and my boys £650 bike getting stolen he was already thinking about moving on.

Once we finally discussed the possibility of having a family and I worked out maternity leave options, I came to the realisation that we couldn’t afford to stay here and extend our family, and so our search began.

I have point blank refused to move sooner than the two year mark. Only because I have some gypsy blood in me and have moved every 6-12 months ever since I moved to Wales. Its been really unsettling and I just wanted to put my roots downs somewhere for a while. Come January it’ll be 2 years and I am so ready for our new adventure.

I am ready for space, more walls and windows, a closer (nosey) community, views of the valleys and cheaper rent. Roll on 2019!

Jealousy pangs

I’ve been perfectly fine all week, but today it’s all felt a little blah. I remember thinking a few months ago how amazing it would be to announce over Christmas that we were pregnant.

I think the reality has set in a bit. I feel quite morose and have seen God knows how many articles about pregnancy this, and infertility that… Not to mention my Instagram is full with baby stuff.. I was getting ahead of myself following baby related pages to get inspiration. All its done today is make me realise that’s not going to be my reality for quite some time, if ever. I feel sad and jealous of all those people who are having sleepless nights with their tiny bundles, changing shitty reusable nappies and dressing their babies up in colourful winter padding. Quite odd things to feel jealous about really, isn’t it?

I can’t believe I’m fucking infertile!

Luckily I have some other things to look forward to and help distract my mind otherwise I’d be a hot mess!


So, this is the next part of our journey!
I didn’t ever think IVF would be something I’d have to think about. Prior to Wednesday, I didn’t even know what it entailed. After my HSG 2 weeks ago, although I could tell my tubes were blocked, I thought my body would be fixable, it’d be ok, it would ‘work’. I don’t know why it can’t be fixed…I didn’t ask, perhaps I should have but alas, I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that we can’t get pregnant by ourselves, we need scientific intervention! Sounds cool when you put it like that. It’s still very upsetting no matter the spin you put on it. I think I’m done crying for now. I know what’s wrong and I can stop going crazy, wondering if I’m pregnant every month.

I’m trying not to think about specifics, waiting lists, how hard this is going to be, success rates and whatnot.That’s all months down the line. I’ve got plenty of tears in the reservoir for that.

For now, we’ll concentrate on the positives, the things we can control and being just the 2 of us for a while longer ❤️👫❤️


(I already wrote this, but the original disappeared into the ether, so here we go again)

So, HSG day was finally here. I rushed to the hospital on my lunch break hoping to get the whole ordeal over and done with in 15minutes.

As I sat nervously in the waiting room, it occurred to me that I hadn’t expected any negative results. I fully expected to waltz in and look at the scan of my womb and tubes filling up with this glorious dye, the same images I’d been looking at on the web in the days leading up to the appointment.

After 10-15 minutes I was finally called in by a lovely member of staff and directed to a small cubicle where I was asked to undress from the waist down and put my clothes in what could only be described as a Tesco shopping basket. I undressed and quickly unscrewed my belly button jewellery and nervously put it and my knickers in my bag. The rest of the items went in the basket and I left the cubicle trying to inconspicuously make sure my ass was covered up and not on show in the rather revealing open back gown I was given. I sat down in another waiting room for all of 5 minutes before I was called into the xray room.

2 ladies sat me down and explained the process, exactly what would happen. I was asked to confirm I had abstained from sex and detail the dates of my period. I was also informed I needed to sign to confirm all information given was correct…. (they won’t be held responsible for the termination of any pregnancy you may be concealing). If the results were clear and available, I’d be given them straight away.

I propped myself up on the table, legs spread and let the process begin. I wasn’t really too nervous or uncomfortable. The amount of times I’ve been in this position, I’m used to all the prodding and poking by now. The screen to my right displayed the images, so I watched the process unfold from there. I felt the speculum enter my body but felt nothing else from there, other than an intense nerd to expel the foreign object.

10 minutes into the procedure, the lady appeared to be strugglin and called a colleague for assistance, reassuring me at the same time that everything I was doing well and it’d be over soon. As I stared at the screen I could see my pelvic bones and my uterus. Amazing! I could also see the little balloon they’d inserted and the dye had filled up the space, illuminating my uterus like a light had been switched on up there. But that’s all I could see. I couldn’t see my fallopian tubes like I’d seen in pictures online. Just dark empty space.

Once it finished I got dressed and sat myself down and eagerly awaited the bad news. I was informed that I wouldn’t be given results today but would be given then by my gyno in 2 weeks time. We could carry on trying as normal again. I thanked the ladies and promptly left the room and the department. I went back to work and tried my hardest not to think the worst… Even though I knew deep down that what I saw on the screen confirmed my fears. Now…its just a waiting game.