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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!

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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!

IVF

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 ❤️👫❤️

HSG

(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.

Sometimes

I lay in bed for hours and think about how rubbish my life is and how I’ll never make anything of myself.

I worry about when I’ll die and how.

I look at my bf and wonder why I fancy him.

I crave close friendships and wish someone understood my complex mind.

I wonder why I buy clothes when I have nowhere to go.

On the odd occasion I realise that this is pmdd making me feel this way. It doesn’t alter the way I feel, it’s just a small reminder that it WILL pass.

Sobriety, sucks

Since I became sober to lessen the effects of this pmdd malarkey, life has changed somewhat.

I don’t go out any more, not that I’ve been a party animal for the last few months anyway, but socially everything has really dwindled quite rapidly. I genuinely thought I was OK living the sober and unsociable life, but in reality I don’t think I am.

I went away for the weekend with some old work friends and it wasn’t really what I wanted it to be. I didn’t relax and I also didn’t go out out, which was the plan for Saturday night. I didn’t want to be surrounded by drunk, irritating people when I couldn’t be the same drunk, irritating person. The whole situation made me feel quite down. I could’ve had an alcoholic drink if I wanted to but I felt I’d be letting myself down and also opening myself up for a downward spiral on my mood the following week. Plus it was the bfs birthday and I didn’t want to give myself any opportunity to act like a miserable cunt.

I didn’t tell my friends why I wasn’t drinking, other than saying it makes me really depressed. They all assumed I was pregnant 😂.

During a trip to the spa I was telling one friend that my social situation has really changed and dwindled since I stopped drinking. Also, stopping bookclub about a year ago hasn’t helped. I think if I told the bookclub girls why I stopped (the pmdd that I didn’t realise was pmdd), they would’ve helped. I don’t think I wanted to admit I couldn’t cope with running it and couldn’t deal with the rejection of people leaving /not joining. Anyway, this thinking all culminated in me realising that I need to find other sober people to hang around with. Sober people with pmdd preferably, but sober people nonetheless. Now I’m more aware of my pmdd and when I’m having better days, I can’t see why I wouldn’t be able to maintain a friendship. Just because my hormones and mental health turn me doolally from time to time doesn’t mean I should be destined to live a solitary friendless life… I deserve friendship 🙂