The Childless Mother

Dealing with infertility and finding happiness


fertility and healthy eating

It’s OK not to be OK….


Christmas was a little tough. I’m struggling. Mentally I struggle a little anyway over such a family focused moment in time, because of cause I do wonder what it would be like if our babies had made it. But this time it was the other side to infertility that spoilt it for me. The physical side effects, and the last two months it’s been the worst! No break from the pain.

I am so tired of brave facing it.

I am on the whole a glass half full sort of person but recently my glass is most definitely empty.

I personally have never suffered from depression. I have a few people in my life that do, so I don’t feel embarrassed to share that I am struggling. It’s important to talk about, I my case I turn to what’s always helped me process things, my writing (however bad it is lol).

How do you pick yourself up when you are so low that even getting up and getting dressed is a struggle? The pain I’m in at the moment is constant and I am so fed up with it that it IS effecting me mental health. I would be happy if I could live in a bubble of Netflix, a good book and my duvet! I can’t obviously.

I’m not sharing this with you guys so that I get the “ahh poor you’s” I don’t need that, but because I know that I’m not alone and I feel like I need to let it out. There are so many off us suffering through the side effects of having these long term fertility issues and I know a lot of you like me find themselves having to justify and explain how bad it is and why you are struggling, that it’s more than just a normal monthly. Those social events missed or going out doing anything. The guilt of letting people down again. But now, I am more than just feeling guilty. I’m actually angry.

I just feel pissed off that not only is it preventing me from giving my husband a family, but it effects every area of my life!! I never know how I will be able to cope with going out, shopping, meals, traveling, etc because of the pain or if I can leave the bathroom floor!! I always have to check dates and hope for the best.

The pain this time started mid November and it’s still going thanks to some complications that I won’t bore you with and a lovely new cyst!!

This weekend for example I spent on the couch because anytime I stood up right I had incredible shooting pains from the tops of my legs to my jaw, every time I moved it had to be a calculated cautious one, timidly feeling how bad the pain was going to be when I did straighten up to then just get to the toilet or kitchen etc.

There are so many horrible and worse illnesses out there I know and when I am feeling moany I try to give myself a shake and then generally feel guilty for being a wuss.

Some times it’s easier to get back up and continue at 100% effort. Other times I just can’t and the pain is relentless, for the last two months especially there has not been a day passed that I haven’t had to stop what I am doing hold my breath and try not to cry out in pain. I so fucking sick of it. The last two months have been bad but this isn’t the first bad stint, ever since my very first AF (Aunt Flow) at 10 years old the pain some months has floored me.

Currently I’m at “well I’m awake and dressed what more do you want” level of effort. 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

What makes this worse for me is that I continue regularly to go thru this pain, a regular cycle that should have brought us a baby and still my arms are empty and feels like it’s punishing me further by making them so hard to deal with. The crushing disappointment of another failed month followed by terrible pain and sickness. It makes me so resentful I could scream!!

After all these years we are so close to the final phase of treatment. I have 27lbs to loose to have IVF. But I have never felt so fed up with it all. I’m slowing rolling back round to the “why us” way of thinking. WHY US?! Why do we have to go thru this. Isn’t 13 years enough already of this!?

Yes. I realise this is like a blog tantrum. And no I do not care. 😁

If anyone needs me I am under the covers with chocolate ….. oh no wait…. I have to work and I’m loosing weight….. FML!!

Dear Santa….. we need to talk!

Dear Santa,

I have written to you so many times now. The joke has clearly been on us!  I watch as December arrives and the children in our life switch between angelic well behaved beauties to sugar fuelled demons with no inbetween in the sheer anticipation of your arrival. My heart aches for a child of our own.

At this time every year I make a private wish.

“Next year…… please let it be our turn and please, by next year, let us finally be holding our baby.”

I have tried many ways of getting this wish/Christmas request to you, I have written to you, I have burned a letter in an open fire, I have gazed up at those beautiful stars at night and closed my eyes tightly and begged you. I have been on my knees, pleading. Just one child. Let us be lucky to have one child.

It’s been 13 years now I have asked for just one thing. Only resulting in empty arms and brief moments of hope ripped away. Wishing has proved pointless. In reality I know we may only help ourselves. Faith can only take you so far.

I love to read, you know that, you have brought me many books over the years. I long to sit in a nursery cradling our child and reading to them the night before Christmas, to listen to the excited tone of our child’s voice asking for the millionth time when you would get here. To awake on Christmas morning to the sounds of excited whoops and yells.  “He’s been, he’s been!!!”

In the shops I pass aisle’s after aisles of advent calendars, reindeer food for Rudolph and his chums,  Santa treats for you, Xmas eve boxes and so much fun to be had making treats and decorations for your arrival. I have imagined many times my husband and I sat around a table creating the perfect ginger bread house, making our own decorations or taking our little one to a grotto to visit you so you can hear their wish for that Christmas. I would hope a solution to world hunger and poverty but more likely the latest fad toy!

As I sit now quietly writing this letter to you, we are still only a two. Do you know how many tines I am asked as a woman in her thirties by complete strangers

“are your kids excited for Santa?!”

Do you know that mainly I lie?  I tell them “absolutely”!! I do that because I can’t face the look of pity when I say we can’t have children and equally I can NOT face telling them we don’t want them to save their feelings. My mouth will not say those words no matter how much easier that would be, it feels like I am dishonouring our angel babies.

I would just like the festive season to welcome us, to for once feel like a normal couple. To feel less of a failure.  To take part in all the parts of Christmas that are meant for happy families! Because we are a happy family. My heart may be Swiss cheese and I may be often crippled with the grief and loss. But I am happy all the same, we are happy. I am so blessed to have my Husband, he’s really the other half of me.

For that reason this year, I am not asking you to give me a baby. I am working on making my body more healthy and strong to do it myself. Instead I am asking you to look over all of the people out there struggling with this journey this year. Help them to find the happy in their own lives. Help their hearts to heal and when they can’t find that happy, surround them with love and support so they know they are not alone. Can you do that?

Good luck with the big night, and even though we don’t have any children we will still leave you some cookies and milk ……. it’s just in our house you might find the milk is spiked with a little (or a lot of) whiskey 😉😉 .

Merry Christmas and thank you for listending ❤️❤️❄️🎄🎅🏻🎅🏻


Christmas And Still A Childless Mother

It’s been a year since I wrote “The Childless Mother at Christmas”, a blog that poured out the frustration I was feeling at that time. I have connected with so many wonderful people over the last year. I feel less alone in this journey.

As the last of days of summer are coming to a close, I can start to feel the knot in my stomach. It starts because of my birthday because when it arrives, I know there is another year passing without a baby. This time of year seems worse than others as the focus is on Children.

Halloween, social media fills with adorable and some slightly disturbing images of children ready to tackle trick or treating. I still buy the sweets, we never seem to get any and let me tell you mixing that feeling of loss for not having a child to take part in the events happening around us and that big bag of chocolates never ends well. Usually it ends with me face down in a mountain of empty Cadburys wrappers promising to do better next year.

When the last cobweb is swept away on we go to the sparking lights and bangs of bonfire night, events all around me take place with chunky little faces, red noses from the cold and wrapped up like the marshmallow man, excited to see the displays with their families, meanwhile I am at home trying to convince my 14 year old neurotic Labrador that the world isn’t ending, it’s just fireworks and she can come out from under the quilt!

As the shimmering sparkles disappear then the dread really does eat away at me, the windows around my town start to shimmer with twinkle lights and the children in my life are at defcon one of excitement as the big man’s arrival is imminent, Christmas is coming. Christmas as a childless couple in our mid-thirties is not what I was expecting to be dealing with. I thought for sure by now we would have a family.

You see every year around this time even if I wouldn’t ever say it out loud, I made a little Christmas wish, I wanted Santa to bring us just one thing. A baby. At first I was optimistic it felt very possible that we would get our baby someday …. Just be patient.

As the years rolled by and we stood among our friends on New Year’s Eve watching Big Ben ring in the New Year. I would think ….. please be next year. Please don’t let me have to go through another year of this. Just one success, just one baby.

This period of time is hard. There is an urge to shut yourself in at home and wait for it to pass. To stop looking at the nativity pictures wondering what our child would have been. To not feel like we are missing out on the Christmas fun at Santa’s grottos and Polar Express steam train rides, after all if a childless couple turn up to sit on Santa’s lap alone….. Question’s get asked!!

The sad fact is we are big kids, we love Christmas. Imagining what Christmas morning would be like us sat around our living room, excited cries of thank you for the latest in technology, for them to then play with the box it came in!

Enough is so enough!

For the first time this year we are being a little selfish, we are locking ourselves away at home just the two of us, for many reasons but mainly the best of all is that we like so many other people out there run around all festive season and don’t get to really enjoy the bits we want to. We want to have a little alone time just the two of us. Is that so bad?

I refuse to let us not being able to have children define what we are for the rest of our lives, we have to find a way to move forward. I am so luck that my marriage is a good one, we still have so much fun together even after 15 years, he’s my best friend. This year we are going to spend the day at home, maybe in our PJs who knows. We might not even have a Christmas lunch. Maybe we will just eat chocolate. Because we can!

It’s time to start to try and embrace the cards we have been dealt, to find the things that are good and meaningful in our lives. As hard as this journey can be, there has to be a way of healing and finding a positive in it. We have to find a new version of the life we imagined, a one without children.

Maybe I will put my doggies into a nativity this year, who knows!

I hope this holiday season isn’t too difficult for you, I hope that you can find joy in what you do have and that next year does bring you your dreams. Until as always I am here to lend a hand to hold xx

The Hoops We Have to Jump Through…..

Once upon a time there was a prince and princess. They fell in love and married in a wedding that would have made cinders jealous. Soon after they decided they wanted a baby, soon after that the test turned positive and so began the fairytale. Or maybe the next part that Disney doesn’t tell, the part about sleepless nights and dirty nappies but most of all the unconditional love felt by those parents.

In this version of family. All the parents had to do was fall in love, the rest happened naturally, quickly and without one single test or hick up.

For couples dealing with infertility this is pretty much the furthest version of their story. Sure it starts with falling in love, maybe even marriage and then waiting and waiting and fear and worry until we get to tests and more tests and heart break. It still doesn’t end.

For me to be deemed good enough to be a mother and for my husband to be a father we have to jump through hoops. First of all it’s a intrusive line of questioning about how often we have sex, how we have sex and if there are any issues when we do.

We had to fight to get an appointment to even be tested because of our age. 13 years later this makes me chuckle, ironically. How many doctors said we were young and it would happen in time.

We were able to receive one line of treatment that in the doctors words

“Wasn’t too expensive to try”

But then came the list of things that we had to not be doing or be doing in order to get further treatment.

My weight. I was six stone over the bmi they would accept. If we had smoked. It would have been no. If we had drank too frequently it would have been no. If we had sex less than a couple of times a week we would have been turned away until we had done that for a period of time even though it was proven that my ovulation wasn’t fully functional.

I am still so angry at these hoops. I am loosing the weight now, have never smoked and don’t drink. Boring huh? But it’s taken me so much time to loose this weight the longer it takes the angrier I get.

I know the collation between a healthy pregnancy and being within the healthy weight range. I understand that of cause. But it still pisses me off that we have to be judged by these standards as to if we would be good parents or not when simply having the natural function to do so qualifies everyone else to have a child no problem. To be forced into these tick boxes for someone to decide this huge thing for us based on a one size fits all approach. One size doesn’t fit all.

I know many women that would be over the bmi to have treatment. They have gone on to have healthy beautiful children and here’s the shocker. They are good parents 😱😱😱. Imagine that.

I don’t let the rage out very often now. Believe it or not I am in a good place but at the moment I am fighting to stay on track with my weight loss. Again I am battling my demons, demons we all have in various forms. But I wonder sometimes….. why is it fair I am judged on mine. Why does this get to be the deciding factor for me being a mother? That thought. That truth allows the rage to seep out.

If I had a penny for every time someone has basically asked;

“Well if you wanted a child you wouldn’t you just loose the weight?”

To have to go into how PCOS effects my body and it end up sounding like an excuse. For people to understand just how hard I have to fight as many others like me, to loose even one pound on those scales. If they knew that, they would never say such things to me.

I know a question we all ask while on this journey is “Why us?” Why do we have to be the one couple in eight? Why can we not have just had the Disney version of marriage and family.

It’s cruel to give a couple the instinct to want to have a family, a yearning that’s deep within you. To not allow it to happen. It’s even crueller to dangle the treatment and help but to make it difficult to achieve it. Making one of the hoops something that’s a symptom of the illness you have.

One woman’s rage wont change it. The criteria is what it is and I am getting there, I have three stone left to go. It doesn’t stop me from feeling that anger. Anger as those hoops we must jump through to get our baby.

Biological clock, Birthdays and Fertility Warriors

When we first started trying for children, it never occurred to me that I would be nearly forty and childfree.

As time ticked on I started to dread the turning of each year and the anxiety it brought so in all honesty, I run away from it. I pretend it isn’t happening and well, we take a vacation.

Tomorrow I am 37. I can’t believe that I am. My brain still tells me I am 16 and I am not adult enough to be dealing with this shit. But it’s true. There’s a twinge of sadness with each passing year that we seem to be further away from our dream of having a child. So you know what.


I’m not spending another year pining for what I can’t have I am going to enjoy what I do!!

I have finally gotten the motivation to loose some weight. 2stone 9 lbs gone and another 3 stone to go! But it’s coming off!

I still have an awesome marriage and he really is my best friend. Even if sometimes we want to murder each other. ….. that’s normal right?

I have a fab mother who’s always there for me even when I’m a grumpy pants.

The best friends.

Beautiful nieces and nephew. One brand new niece just born today ❤️❤️

Is my heartbroken? Sure! It always will be I think, but tomorrow for my birthday. I am taking the day off!! ( well not literally I am too busy at work 🙈🙈😂😂) but mentally!

I am going to celebrate the wonderful life we do have, start to plan our next holiday and generally be thankful for the fact I get another birthday when others aren’t so lucky.

So often we are wrapped up in the negatives of this journey. We batter ourself for what we can’t do. For what we feel is failure. When in fact we should be taking a frickin bow!! We are warriors. We earned our stripes not from the pregnant bellies we would give anything to have, but the slashes through our hearts.

We take disappointment and loss month after month and keep going. Even when we are at our lowest, we find a way to paint on a smile and continue because what other choice do we have?

Tomorrow I turn 37. I am still childless. I can’t change that, I can’t control it. So I’m not going to feel bad about it anymore! Here’s to a fun day 😃😃🎉

Walking In My Shoes – The Childless Mother

I know it’s impossible to know what’s going on behind anyone’s smile. People fight battles every day that their nearest and dearest know nothing about. If you are lucky, and I am. You have a support network in your partner, family and friends that will get you through the worst time. Even so it can feel lonely under this label that we stand, I am infertile. Me.

My husband stands with me as a couple we are childless and he suffers the ups and downs every bit as much as I do but the reality is, it’s me.

When a stranger looks at me they know nothing of our struggle to be parents, often when we meet someone new one of the first questions we are asked now we are in our mid-thirties is how many children do we have? My 13 years of training for these questions kicks in and we delicately tell these strangers, none for us we love to travel…..are too selfish…. It just didn’t happen for us. After all the awkward spluttering’s that follow telling the truth are just not worth it.

The world is obsessed with owning who you are at the moment, hundreds of tell all stories often with photographs telling you to be proud of who you are. Go You! I totally agree with this, be who you are and apologise to no one for it. So why can’t I get there myself? Admittedly talking about infertility and our losses is difficult. When I first picked up a pen to write down how I was feeling it was for me, when I openly shared one of the miscarriages we had online I did it because it felt like the only way to get the pain out.

I didn’t realise I was giving a voice to others in pain. My blog was born.

I receive many messages from both people trying to support their friends or family members through a loss or infertility as well as from the couples going through it. There is no one size fits all but there is a common theme to what those people walking in our shoes are saying.

Please, please don’t tell me its ok, don’t tell me things happen for a reason. My time may not come.

I wanted to try to articulate my experience to try and help others to know if they can help or offer comfort, not just with words. Sometimes just by being there. If you haven’t been through this it is hard to understand the ache that comes with wanting a child you can’t have, or finally getting that dream and it being ripped from you.

I wanted to be a mother, I knew that from a young age. Some may say that’s because the world expects it of me. I was born in the 80’s and still very much felt the right thing to do was get married and have children. I didn’t want that in the conventional sense, I wanted to travel, I wanted an equal to do that with but I knew I wanted a family.

I read somewhere that infertility is like the death of a dream. This is perfectly true. I imaged my life with a child, with my husband. This perfect little person that was half me and half the love of my life.

When we first started to try for children, excited and optimistic the picture starts to build in my imagination. You discuss names, nursery ideas, looks, schooling, and family values etc. Pretty soon you have an image in your head of what that little person would be like. For most couples the longing is brief and very quickly they get their bundle of joy and start to live their dream, all be it slightly sleep deprived but what they planned all the same.

For couples like us, over time the dream builds into to a knot in our stomach, a screaming question that neither of you really dares to speak out loud.

“Why isn’t it happening for us?”

It takes time to accept that you may need help, the longing grows and grows and takes route inside. It twists and pulls at your confidence. It whispers lies that make you feel less than, it tells you the worst things you may already be thinking. I’m not good enough to do this, I am failing.

The first steps into your doctor are hard to take, for a woman testing for problems is an intrusive and long process. Starting with blood tests and followed with internals and scans and painful procedures to see if you can indeed carry a child. I remember once someone telling me, be thankful you haven’t had any children yet, you lose all dignity. If she only knew. I probably had to bare my private parts many more times than she ever did to get her children and there was no beautiful reward for me at the end.

For my husband the tests were less intrusive but equally as embarrassing, especially as the specimen room was right next to the break room while nurses discussed their weight watchers soup. Not. Fun.

Finally we were diagnosed. It was me. I had PCOS.

I always knew it was me in some ways it was a relief that I wasn’t crazy, we had the reason but we had no baby either. A glimmer of hope starts to return at this point as you weigh the options up and discuss treatment options. The doctor talks about the next steps and you start to think….. Finally this might happen.

First step for us was Chlomid, an angry hormonal infusion of crazy lady that helps you to ovulate regularly. We were given six cycles and told to baby dance….. a lot.

Infertility is a pain emotionally and I would guess there would be some people that would say, wow lots of sex poor you it sounds awful. Anyone that has struggled to conceive will tell you, eventually it sucks the romance out of it. There is nothing romantic about a frantic race to the finish line, the pressure to get there and then acrobatics to get your hips into the air or maybe even a hand stand because you read somewhere that may help. It’s not pretty and eventually it stops being fun.

I agreed to take part in a study to help others with PCOS so had bloods done regularly. I was convinced that this was going to work I had a feeling. So month one, cycle one, we did everything right. The date of my scheduled monthly was approaching, my crazy brain convinced me I was experiencing every pregnancy symptom going, and I went to the bathroom a 100 times a day just to see if it was game over. I was two days late. Out came the pregnancy test.

I did it alone as at this point I didn’t want to disappoint my husband who kept telling me that he would be happy with or without children he just wanted me.

I sat in the bathroom what felt like an hour with a flashing test, my hands and feet cold with anticipation……. Then -: NOT PREGNANT. Game over for yet another month, almost 6 years of this at this point. The disappointment hits you like a blow to the stomach, fresh tears fill my eyes and I allow myself a brief moment of self-pity. Sadly I am by now a seasoned trier, so I know I must dust myself down and prepare to try again.

On we continued until month five. Month five was different. I didn’t seem to have as many side effects except a feeling of total exhaustion. I put that down to what we were putting ourselves through, we promised to take a break from everything if it didn’t work this month. Again I was waiting with the pregnancy test flashing in my hand, prepared for another negative…. Flash…flash…flash…PREGNANT! I dropped the test, immediately dug out the remaining two under our sink…. PREGNANT….. PREGNANT!! I couldn’t believe it. My heartbeat hammered in my chest, I felt a little dizzy. I sat back on the toilet.

I was terrified, I cried, I wondered how I would tell my husband. We had been here before and it had ended so badly that I decided to wait until my hospital appointment and blood tests. They were all confirmed, I told my husband that night. He was cautious and had a wait and see type attitude which annoyed me at first, but deep down I understood why.

A couple of weeks passed and we were booked in for an early scan, again I decided to go it alone. Looking back now I just think I was nuts but at the time it felt like it was my issue to deal with because it was me that was defective. I was convinced that my period was on her way.

At the scan, they found the sac but no heartbeat. Could be completely normal they said with the timing so they took some blood from me and arranged another scan for a week later. There was no need.

The cramps started through the night a few days later, the bleeding started soon after.

I don’t think I can fully explain the complete emptiness that follows a miscarriage. The helplessness that you feel watching the life leave your body. In the middle of the night while everyone else around me slept. I lay on my bathroom floor in our small home and wept. I remember quietly singing twinkle twinkle little star to myself quietly as I sobbed. As if it would make the passing easier.

The next day, it was confirmed that the baby was no more. My body was doing its job well however. For once. I could go home and rest, they could help me but I didn’t want that. I wanted to do it alone, I think sometimes that was my way of punishing myself. Dealing with that pain.

Once the physical pain is passed, you are left with the “what ifs”. What if I had rested more? What if we had been to the hospital sooner? What if I had eaten differently? What if, What if What it.

The following weeks, I was told “It’s just not your time”, “Its mother’s nature’s way of weeding out the defective” “At least you know you can get pregnant” “At least it was early, it wasn’t a proper baby”

My young and polite head nodded along with these statements, while my heart screamed at them…. “HOW IS THAT HELPFUL!!!” While all well-meaning, I just wanted someone to acknowledge the life I had in me for however brief a moment, to tell me how sorry they were.

Looking back at this one moment, sadly there have been other since, I have come to learn that there isn’t anything anyone can say to make this better. The worst thing to do to me is to make it seem less than, not as bad. My heart was broken, my husband didn’t know what to do and through all of our losses I think sadly he has been overlooked. People feel terrible for you and just don’t know what to say. I want to say to anyone dealing with this now, “I’m so sorry” is enough. That’s it.

A dream of a life we haven’t ever gotten to live has gone with each loss we have experienced. The pain I don’t think will ever go, we just learn to live with it. It’s important to me to find a voice to share my story in the hopes that others never have to feel like I did, less than, a failure, like it was our fault, like we had to make it easier for others so they didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Our rainbow babies will be with us always, they have shaped who we are now. I think we would have made pretty great parents. But I will always grieve the life that we didn’t live too. Maybe one day we may still get that dream, you just never know.

Time Heals Nothing ….. I Am Always Waiting!! 

The passing of time is something none of us can control. It’s become my enemy over the last few years. Starting with us trying for children and then moving to heartbreak when we lost my cousin to cancer in 2016. Time moving forward caused pain, it’s frustrating and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.

Grief is a weird experience. True gut wrenching, not knowing how you are still breathing grief I have only experienced once. For two reasons.

I loved my little cousin like a brother, our family adored him. When he was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer it felt like I was watching something happen on a TV programme. Like I was removed from it. We never believed we would actually loose him. How could we? We waited for treatment. We waited while he endured gruelling chemo. We waited for remission. We waited for news when it came back and worst of all we waited at his side when he took his last breath.

I read somewhere a meme that said

“I didn’t die with you that night, but a part of me left with you”

it best sums up for me how it felt. I wasn’t the same person, none of us were and we have managed the best we can. Nothing is the same. So now we wait for breathing and moving forward to not hurt so much. We wait for the mythical time to heal our wounds.

During the time he was undergoing treatment I found out we were pregnant. It was a wonderful, terrifying and guilty moment. How could this be happening now?!?  The happiness was sort lived, we lost our baby. It happened quickly but again we endured more waiting while nature took its course. Mother Nature is a cruel bitch.

How could I process the loss of another baby. I couldn’t hold it together and for the first time I fell to pieces. I felt every loss in the previous years that I had packed neatly away in a box in the back of my mind.

I waited for the pain to pass. When we lost my cousin a few months later I thought the grief would bury me. My already Swiss cheese heart was shattered. My grief screamed silently day after day. There are no words of comfort or words to articulate that feeling.

I am still waiting for that pain to pass. I have again learned to live with it, but that grief screams on silently all day everyday.

I get so frustrated with myself sometimes. Each month that passes, when my monthly arrives there is still a brief moment where I wonder what if. What if this is the month.

When we were in the thick of trying, we waited a lot.  We waited for the ovulation peaks, the doctors appointments and tests or worse the two week wait so that we could do a pregnancy test, mean while watching out for symptoms like a crazy women.

I haven’t done that in a while. The more hope disappeared so did the crazy urge to symptom watch.

Since loosing some weight it has messed with my cycle. Last month was less days this month it would appear it’s going to be late. I know logically that I am not pregnant. I know this. But guess which crazy lady is back?!?! That would be me!!

Every month used to go the same. It would start with the disappointment of another failed cycle. Push through that to get to optimism of a new month, symptom watching continues for ovulation not to mention the tests to see if you actually get a peak this month. Peak arrives and you have scheduled sex, a lot of scheduled sex!! No pressure!!

Then follows the dreaded two week wait. This is a fun moment where your logical sensible brain says

“You can not be getting symptoms crazy lady!!”

But my whakado voice says

“Did your breast just hurt???, are you peeing more?? I’m sure that stabbing pain feels like implantation??!!”

This would be followed by thousands of google searches on “early symptoms of pregnancy” even though in reality I could probably write the pages myself!

Then there is the final stage…. when she arrives. I could be found sat on our toilet at home or at work ….. or randomly in a shopping centre toilet even once. Sat silent tears falling into my lap. Another month gone. Another month no baby. Another month of waiting.

I had to stop the crazy for my sanity. I had managed to do this after the grief of loosing my cousin put things into perspective. There had to be more to life than this.

Since loosing the weight it’s becoming more possible that we might be able to have further treatment and I think that has woken the beast. Today I am officially due for her to arrive. I have already talked myself out of buying yet another test that would undoubtly be negative. I can not look at another negative test!!

I know that she’s on her way, but my oh my have I watched for those symptoms today. I am trying to brace myself for the inevitable disappointment. You would think after nearly 13 years I would be better at this, but the truth is the dream is still so deeply seeded inside me that it hurts. I think it always will be. No matter if we manage to get our baby or not. Nothing will take the grief or loss away for the babies we have lost.

13 years seems like a long time to have to wait, I wish I could stop. I guess until that time comes I take comfort from our little community on my pages, to know that we are not alone.

So when she does show her face again. I will dust myself off and try again. I won’t give up hope, not just yet. Xoxo

When Did Hope Die? 

We have been on this journey for so long now, had so much disappointment and heartbreak somewhere along the way I lost something I thought I never would …. I lost all hope. Along with that, I lost the dream of being a mother. 
I’m not sure when this happened, perhaps it slipped away a little at a time. Perhaps is was ripped out in buckets with every silent heartbeat on a scan monitor or with the negative pregnancy test sitting in my lap, anointed with freshly fallen tears. Perhaps that’s where my hope disappeared, slowly down tear tracks etched into my cheeks over 12 years. I don’t know. 

All I know is this last couple of weeks, as the weight has slowly started to fall off, I have felt a flutter that has been missing. My hope was returning. 

Once I realised this is what I was feeling, I was crushed to know just how lost I had been before now. It upset me to think that I had given up on our dream. I had written myself off as a failure, I had convinced myself I couldn’t do this. 

One of the most gut wrenching, heartbreaking things to get your head around when you have fertility issues is that it’s you. You are the reason why.  You are defective. You can not perform the one task that should be so natural for a woman to do.  You, you ….. YOU! Even with that knowledge I thought I was strong. I thought we had shouldered more than most could bare and retained our sanity. 

While it’s true we have shouldered a lot. Cried more tears in the twelve years trying for a child than I could count. I do feel like I have lost a part of me in the process. I was an optimist. I was so sure that even with my PCOS we would get pregnant that every failed pregnancy we lost, every negative test that followed I believed it was taking us closer to what we wanted. That no world could be so cruel to allow us not to get our dream. 

Twelve long years, slowly but surely that hope died in me. I didn’t mourn it all at once, or acknowledge it at all really. I didn’t even notice it was gone until I felt a glimmer come back. 

I’m 36. The window is closing. Perhaps that is why the motivation is staying with me this time. I need to loose the weight to get treatment and it always felt like a mountain. Now I am 25.5lbs down with another 42lb plus to go, but I actually feel like I can do this! 

The more I feel confident that I can lose the weight. The more that the hope I had lost seems to return. 

Will we ever realise our dream to be parents. I don’t know. But the fact I have finally found the confidence to keep going, to take control of something for once! That makes me hopeful. 

If anyone is reading this with PCOS over weight and wondering how you could possible find the grit to try and loose weight. Give yourself a break, take it one meal at a time and most of all forgive the slips. 

I am not a natural gym bunny 🐰 or healthy eater but learning to forgive my slips and getting back to it the next meal has been something that’s new and it’s keeping me on track. Am I perfect!? Hell No! But I want it so badly. I am not thinking so far in the future I am planning one week at a time. Hoping that I can stay strong. We can all do that. 

Wish me luck xoxo

Dear baby. I know you are waiting …. 

A letter to our unborn child.

Dear baby bean,

I know you are waiting patiently to reach us. I know you are close by waiting for the stars to line up and for mummy’s body to work to give you a safe space to nestle in and grow.

I want you to know I dream about you often, your smiles and giggles, the soft touch of your baby skin, the gentle slope of your button nose that you get from your daddy because I have a bumpy nose! I can almost smell your head and breathe in the perfect baby scent that makes women crazy enough to want to endure the pain of labour to hold you in their arms.

I would sit for hours cradling you as you sleep too scared to put you down. Not minding in the least that I would be spoiling you, I wouldn’t care. It feels so unfair that we can’t do that yet. I ask often why us? What did we do? I know in my heart we would cherish and love you and give you the best home we could. It breaks me to think that we may never get to show you the wonderful life we could give you.

Every day it feels like I have a silent scream that can’t ever be heard. Where is my baby?!?!

I like to think we have been chosen to endure this heartbreak because something special is yet to come. That would be you. So no pressure little bean!

We have so much love in our home, it’s bursting at the seams, there is so much love for you waiting here if only you could reach us. Daddy tells me you would be playing football and would definately be a boy, sharing all the nerdy things in his world and especially your first time sitting on his Harley with him. I wouldn’t let you on the bike of cause, but that’s an arguement for another day.

I wouldn’t care if you were boy or girl …. and don’t tell him I said this but neither does daddy, he just likes to annoy me.

We have two beautiful doggies Jackson and Tara that are waiting for a little friend to love and play with. They would make wonderful and protective pets for you. They love to snuggle in close.

I already know what your nursery would look like, I have had years to imagine it. The colour may change but in the corner would sit a rocking chair for you and me …. we might let daddy use it too. I would sing to you and rock you to sleep, our perfect little bean.

There would be a book shelf  filled with wonderful worlds and fairy tails. As you grow older I would read to you at bed time, I love to read and I feel sure that is something you would grow to love too. I would share the world of Harry Potter and other such magical places to escape and imagine before you go to sleep. ……. while daddy would read Star Wars and motorbike manuals to you and explain how many ways in which you can change the look of your bike when you get one ….. which would be never have I mentioned no bikes?!

I’m sorry you have to wait so long, we are trying so hard to get you here. Can you wait a little while longer? You are still the twinkle in the stars for now as my body just can’t keep you safe. I’m so sorry about that. I’m working hard to make a change to make it safe.

I hope it won’t be too much longer.

I’ll never let the dream go little bean. You are with me always.


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