A week ago I had my appointment with my new fertility specialist at Repromed who had been recommended to me by a couple of friends. I have blogged in the past about my previous experience with Repromed being quite clinical and how I felt like a ‘number’, so going back there made me feel a little anxious. But to my surprise, I walked in there and felt somewhat comfortable. I nearly wrote ‘at home’, but that’s a bit of a stretch! In hindsight, I think my feelings associated with Repromed were more to do with my own anxieties rather than the care I received. Anyway, Dr Y called me through and the first thing he said was ‘sorry for keeping you waiting, I was reading your history and really wanted to understand your story before we talked’. Immediate ‘tick’, I liked this guy! And then he said ‘Wow you are so lucky to have James’. Two ticks, what a bloody legend!
On Tuesday, as I drove down to have the ultrasound that I knew would change our future one way or the other, I was surprisingly confident. Yes I was terrified that our fate was already determined and there was nothing I could do to change it, but somewhere inside there was hope. Scott met me there and the first thing I noticed was the terror in his eyes. As we were sitting and waiting, he said “I hate this. I’ve never been excited for an ultrasound. Not once, not even with James. We have never had a good experience.” It tore me apart to think that we will never get to celebrate a pregnancy the way others do. We will never get to experience those exciting normality’s without being plagued with fear. Our past experiences had taken that away from us and taught us to be cautious in order to protect our hearts.
On Monday, I woke at midnight to go to the toilet and noticed my underwear was wet. I just thought I was sweating (eww, I know) or had a little light bladder leakage (yes, it's real) but when I peed, the toilet bowl filled with bright blood. At that moment, everything just stopped. I've felt this feeling too many times but I still can't describe it - everything literally comes crashing down & there's nothing left but numbness...
An amazing friend of mine opened up and wrote down his emotional story after his wife experienced an ectopic pregnancy. He passed it onto me and (after some minor editing) I’m extremely proud to share it with you all now. We often forget to consider how men experience this heartbreaking journey, and generally they put their feelings aside and struggle to hold it together for their partner. Please remember: Dad’s grieve too. Let’s encourage men to speak out, or at least let them know it’s ok to fall apart.
For two years my life was consumed by ovulation tracking, mucous monitoring, blood tests, ultrasounds, hormones and planned intercourse. I had no control over the final outcome, yet it was controlling every aspect of my life. Eventually, I became unrecognisable … a scared, broken version of my former self. I withdrew from the people who loved me most, and I felt anger towards people I had never met. But I disliked myself the most.
I was slightly taken aback when she asked me the golden question ‘how did you cope with being pregnant after your miscarriage?’ On the drive home I realised this wasn’t the first time I had been asked this question – it seems to be a common fear which is triggering overwhelming anxiety and even preventing women from being excited when they finally conceive their little miracle. I hope this blog will help those in a similar situation to ‘cope’ and maybe even allow a slither of excitement for the amazing adventure which lies ahead.
I am writing this blog to share our experience of making a little human. Please remember this is OUR journey and in no way can be compared with anyone else, but I hope that it may comfort the heartache of just one person who is struggling through infertility, and help them find some peace...
A week ago I had my appointment with my new fertility specialist at Repromed who had been recommended to me by a couple of friends. I have blogged in the past about my previous experience with Repromed being quite clinical and how I felt like a ‘number’, so going back there made me feel a little anxious. But to my surprise, I walked in there and felt somewhat comfortable. I nearly wrote ‘at home’, but that’s a bit of a stretch! In hindsight, I think my feelings associated with Repromed were more to do with my own anxieties rather than the care I received. Anyway, Dr Y called me through and the first thing he said was ‘sorry for keeping you waiting, I was reading your history and really wanted to understand your story before we talked’. Immediate ‘tick’, I liked this guy! And then he said ‘Wow you are so lucky to have James’. Two ticks, what a bloody legend!
On Tuesday, as I drove down to have the ultrasound that I knew would change our future one way or the other, I was surprisingly confident. Yes I was terrified that our fate was already determined and there was nothing I could do to change it, but somewhere inside there was hope. Scott met me there and the first thing I noticed was the terror in his eyes. As we were sitting and waiting, he said “I hate this. I’ve never been excited for an ultrasound. Not once, not even with James. We have never had a good experience.” It tore me apart to think that we will never get to celebrate a pregnancy the way others do. We will never get to experience those exciting normality’s without being plagued with fear. Our past experiences had taken that away from us and taught us to be cautious in order to protect our hearts.
On Monday, I woke at midnight to go to the toilet and noticed my underwear was wet. I just thought I was sweating (eww, I know) or had a little light bladder leakage (yes, it's real) but when I peed, the toilet bowl filled with bright blood. At that moment, everything just stopped. I've felt this feeling too many times but I still can't describe it - everything literally comes crashing down & there's nothing left but numbness...
An amazing friend of mine opened up and wrote down his emotional story after his wife experienced an ectopic pregnancy. He passed it onto me and (after some minor editing) I’m extremely proud to share it with you all now. We often forget to consider how men experience this heartbreaking journey, and generally they put their feelings aside and struggle to hold it together for their partner. Please remember: Dad’s grieve too. Let’s encourage men to speak out, or at least let them know it’s ok to fall apart.
For two years my life was consumed by ovulation tracking, mucous monitoring, blood tests, ultrasounds, hormones and planned intercourse.
I was slightly taken aback when she asked me the golden question ‘how did you cope with being pregnant after your miscarriage?’ On the drive home I realised this wasn’t the first time I had been asked this question – it seems to be a common fear which is triggering overwhelming anxiety and even preventing women from being excited when they finally conceive their little miracle. I hope this blog will help those in a similar situation to ‘cope’ and maybe even allow a slither of excitement for the amazing adventure which lies ahead.
I am writing this blog to share our experience of making a little human. Please remember this is OUR journey and in no way can be compared with anyone else, but I hope that it may comfort the heartache of just one person who is struggling through infertility, and help them find some peace...
