For reasons that will become apparent fairly quickly, I have delayed writing this post but (deep breath):
Unfortunately, the positives on the HPT did not get much darker, then they started to fade, then they turned negative. Another chemical, as it turned out. This was our last embie, and we have decided that we will not have any more fertility treatment; so that, as they say, is that.
Or, on the other hand, maybe it isn’t, because whilst the big four-zero is creeping up like a malevolent line manager, maybe there are some little glimmers of hope that we will be able to add to our family. Maybe, just maybe we will miraculously fall pregnant naturally. Maybe in time we’ll think about adoption. Maybe I will have a moment of complete insanity and acquire a puppy as per my ominous threats to H and the Dog. Who knows?
Before I sign off on this blog, I would like to offer some words of comfort and (limited) wisdom to anyone chancing across this blog during their own fertility treatment. Initially I was going to write countless trite bullet points of mawkish counsel but, in the end, all I have to say is this:
It will be ok.
I mean that. It’s a tough time, the drugs are a bastard, the failed cycles are shite, the disappointment unbearable at times, but these things pass.
Whilst the last two cycles have been, on balance, fucking awful, I will remain forever and eternally grateful to the miracle of science that enabled us to have our wonderful, looney Nipper and at least the chance of a sibling, even if didn’t work out for us on the latter front.
Now it is time to focus on some new life challenges, such as:
- Do I still have a job?
- Am I too fat to learn to scuba dive?
- Will the Nipper ever be toilet trained?
- Where can I buy a cocker spaniel puppy?
and other such great eternal mysteries.
To anyone who chances across this blog during their own treatment, I wish you the very best of luck.
Thanks for reading.