I received a very interesting email yesterday, which has got me thinking. It was about certain foods resembling the parts of the body they heal. For example, grapes hang in bunches that are the same shape as the heart and are beneficial to the health of your heart. There were loads of examples and it was quite uncanny. I'm not sure whether it works for everything, but it does seem to make sense that there would be clues in nature as to what might help a certain ailment.
Anyway, I'm off to buy some figs, which apparently hang in pairs on trees and are full of seeds.
Friday, 28 August 2009
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Secrets and lies
My son knows something is going on. He knows that we would like more children and is starting to wonder when they are coming.
He asked me the other day when he would have siblings. I just said I didn't know.
I was watching a TV programme about IVF and he asked me why I was watching it. I told him that I just found it interesting.
He asked me why I had had an operation (my investigative laparoscopy). I told him that it was because I had tummy aches and they wanted to know why.
He asked me why Dad had been to the hospital a lot recently (for sperm tests). I told him it was for routine blood tests.
He is clearly giving me the opportunity to be honest with him and include him in the family situation. Why am I finding it so hard to tell him? There's nothing for me to be ashamed of. He knows about the birds and bees, so realises the horrible truth that his parents need to do the deed in order to have more children, and he seems to have accepted that. So what is it that is stopping me being honest with him?
I think I had always thought I'd explain it at the point we started the IVF process. I could then sit him down with some information and explain what was going to happen. As that time hasn't come, I never got around to telling him. But he still needs to know what the delay is in him becoming a big brother. This affects his life too. For a nearly teenage boy, he's surprisingly keen on having babies around the house. I think he likes the idea of being the much older, cool brother who can teach them the guitar and be looked up to. He's very good with babies and young kids and I think he'd suit the older brother life very well.
Maybe it's because of this that it's so hard to tell him. I know he'll be upset at the prospect of remaining an only child all his life. He's a sensitive type too, so I think it'll upset him to know that we can't have what he knows we so desperately want. I can't cry when I tell him either. I don't want to put him in the position where he feels he needs to be the strong adult who needs to console me. That's not fair to do to a child and messes with how they see their relationship with their parents. He's the child and I'm the grown-up and that's how it needs to stay.
A friend has suggested that I set a date to tell him and arrange to take him out for a hot chocolate or something. Then there is a special occasion put by for the sole purpose of speaking to him about fertility and IVF. I think she makes a good point. I do need to psych myself up to speak to him and by setting aside time, I can prepare the answers for any awkward questions and decide upon the best tone to take with him. Being in a public place will hopefully prevent me crying about it too.
Just writing this blog has helped me so much. As I write, the thoughts become more ordered and I find the ability to analyse my feelings a lot easier. I think this particular post has helped me to realise what is holding me back, so I now know what I need to do to move forward. I'll keep you posted on the outcome.
He asked me the other day when he would have siblings. I just said I didn't know.
I was watching a TV programme about IVF and he asked me why I was watching it. I told him that I just found it interesting.
He asked me why I had had an operation (my investigative laparoscopy). I told him that it was because I had tummy aches and they wanted to know why.
He asked me why Dad had been to the hospital a lot recently (for sperm tests). I told him it was for routine blood tests.
He is clearly giving me the opportunity to be honest with him and include him in the family situation. Why am I finding it so hard to tell him? There's nothing for me to be ashamed of. He knows about the birds and bees, so realises the horrible truth that his parents need to do the deed in order to have more children, and he seems to have accepted that. So what is it that is stopping me being honest with him?
I think I had always thought I'd explain it at the point we started the IVF process. I could then sit him down with some information and explain what was going to happen. As that time hasn't come, I never got around to telling him. But he still needs to know what the delay is in him becoming a big brother. This affects his life too. For a nearly teenage boy, he's surprisingly keen on having babies around the house. I think he likes the idea of being the much older, cool brother who can teach them the guitar and be looked up to. He's very good with babies and young kids and I think he'd suit the older brother life very well.
Maybe it's because of this that it's so hard to tell him. I know he'll be upset at the prospect of remaining an only child all his life. He's a sensitive type too, so I think it'll upset him to know that we can't have what he knows we so desperately want. I can't cry when I tell him either. I don't want to put him in the position where he feels he needs to be the strong adult who needs to console me. That's not fair to do to a child and messes with how they see their relationship with their parents. He's the child and I'm the grown-up and that's how it needs to stay.
A friend has suggested that I set a date to tell him and arrange to take him out for a hot chocolate or something. Then there is a special occasion put by for the sole purpose of speaking to him about fertility and IVF. I think she makes a good point. I do need to psych myself up to speak to him and by setting aside time, I can prepare the answers for any awkward questions and decide upon the best tone to take with him. Being in a public place will hopefully prevent me crying about it too.
Just writing this blog has helped me so much. As I write, the thoughts become more ordered and I find the ability to analyse my feelings a lot easier. I think this particular post has helped me to realise what is holding me back, so I now know what I need to do to move forward. I'll keep you posted on the outcome.
Sunday, 16 August 2009
Adoption
My husband really isn't interested in adopting because he doesn't like the idea of raising someone else's flesh and blood. I always saw it as a last resort, and while I like the idea of having a child that would be unwanted elsewhere and giving them a much better home, I'm not sure whether I'd be able to do it in reality.
Seeing as nothing seems to be happening with finding the funds for IVF, I decided to look into adoption a little more, just out of interest. In this country, there is a very long process before you get approved, and then you have to wait until they match you with a child. They don't allow inter-cultural adoption, so you might have to wait for years. There are obviously more older children than there are babies, so you would also have to wait ages for a baby to come along. If you get over all these obstacles and finally get a child, their birth family are encouraged to keep in touch with them.
All of this reinforces my view that adoption isn't for us. We want a child that will be ours and ours alone. Having strangers be part of our child's life would be very difficult to manage. What if they didn't like the way we did things? Would they interfere? I know it's great that the adopted children can always know where they came from, but what if they don't want to? What if it serves as a constant reminder to them of being unwanted? I just couldn't do it.
So I decided to look at adopting from abroad. I've always sat and watched those TV appeals for money to help AIDS orphans in Africa, sobbing and wanting to do more. Adopting a child who had been orphaned because of this awful disease would be the ultimate way to help, surely? Or all those abandoned little girls from China who are dumped by their families just because their culture values male life over female. I felt that this was perhaps something I would be able to do.
Again, it's a lengthy process, but it's also costly. So we come back to our original problem of not having enough money. It seems that if you have fertility problems and want a child, no matter how you plan to go about doing so, you need to have plenty of cash at the ready.
I've certainly learned that someone who has adopted a child has jumped through so many hoops and that child is so very wanted by them. I really admire someone who has the patience to go through it all, but it's not for me.
Seeing as nothing seems to be happening with finding the funds for IVF, I decided to look into adoption a little more, just out of interest. In this country, there is a very long process before you get approved, and then you have to wait until they match you with a child. They don't allow inter-cultural adoption, so you might have to wait for years. There are obviously more older children than there are babies, so you would also have to wait ages for a baby to come along. If you get over all these obstacles and finally get a child, their birth family are encouraged to keep in touch with them.
All of this reinforces my view that adoption isn't for us. We want a child that will be ours and ours alone. Having strangers be part of our child's life would be very difficult to manage. What if they didn't like the way we did things? Would they interfere? I know it's great that the adopted children can always know where they came from, but what if they don't want to? What if it serves as a constant reminder to them of being unwanted? I just couldn't do it.
So I decided to look at adopting from abroad. I've always sat and watched those TV appeals for money to help AIDS orphans in Africa, sobbing and wanting to do more. Adopting a child who had been orphaned because of this awful disease would be the ultimate way to help, surely? Or all those abandoned little girls from China who are dumped by their families just because their culture values male life over female. I felt that this was perhaps something I would be able to do.
Again, it's a lengthy process, but it's also costly. So we come back to our original problem of not having enough money. It seems that if you have fertility problems and want a child, no matter how you plan to go about doing so, you need to have plenty of cash at the ready.
I've certainly learned that someone who has adopted a child has jumped through so many hoops and that child is so very wanted by them. I really admire someone who has the patience to go through it all, but it's not for me.
Thursday, 6 August 2009
Research
A very interesting report has been published about the postcode lottery attached to IVF provision on the NHS. An MP has carried out his own research and found that the criteria used to assess the suitability for funding varies massively between PCTs.
Some PCTs fund three treatments, as recommended by the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE), but most only fund one. In addition, 54% of PCTs apply some restrictions on IVF if one parent already has a child, even if they are widowed. What I found really crazy is that you can be too old to have funded treatment in one PCT while simultaneously being too young in another.
This whole thing is complete madness. When we were looking for a place to live after finishing university, schools were the main factor. We moved nearest the best schools so that our son could get the best education. We weren't to know then that we needed to cross-reference good school postcodes with generous IVF provision, as well as taking into account crime rates, house prices and everything else one needs to consider.
I hope this research means that the government will now be forced to step in and standardise IVF provision across the country. I don't suppose it would benefit me, because even if that did happen, it would take years, by which point I'd be too old, but it would help others like me.
Some PCTs fund three treatments, as recommended by the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE), but most only fund one. In addition, 54% of PCTs apply some restrictions on IVF if one parent already has a child, even if they are widowed. What I found really crazy is that you can be too old to have funded treatment in one PCT while simultaneously being too young in another.
This whole thing is complete madness. When we were looking for a place to live after finishing university, schools were the main factor. We moved nearest the best schools so that our son could get the best education. We weren't to know then that we needed to cross-reference good school postcodes with generous IVF provision, as well as taking into account crime rates, house prices and everything else one needs to consider.
I hope this research means that the government will now be forced to step in and standardise IVF provision across the country. I don't suppose it would benefit me, because even if that did happen, it would take years, by which point I'd be too old, but it would help others like me.
Saturday, 1 August 2009
Kidding myself
My period is due today. I know the likelihood of it not coming are absolutely minute, but I can't stop myself from hoping. This is where my optimism falls down. Every month I set myself up for disappointment by thinking that somehow one of my husband's little fellas will successfully make the long and arduous journey to my egg.
My husband only has about 10% of the normal healthy sperm that he needs, but that's still a battalion of millions. It would only take one brave little sperm to fight against adversity and keep swimming, passing so many fallen comrades, but enduring, ever onward to the prize at the end of the road.
I spend the days before my period comes examining my body for signs of something being different, although it should be borne in mind that I haven't experienced early pregnancy for 13 years. I'm looking for a glow in my cheeks, signs of nausea, changes in the colour of sensitivity of my nipples. They're never there, but I think sometimes I convince myself that they are. Such is my desperation for them.
Inevitably, my period comes and I feel such a crushing sense of disappointment. It's really hard to accept the failure of our bodies to do what they were designed to do. Every single month. Of course, the misery is helped along nicely by hormones and pains and bleeding. My poor husband just waits for the onslaught of tears when I tell him that I've come on.
You'd think that all this would be enough to stop me hoping that something will be different next month, but in fact, it almost has the opposite effect. I use the hope of the next month to get me through each period and I look forward to feeling excited and positive again. So perhaps the optimism isn't all bad.
So now, I'm going to go and enjoy what's left of my delusion that one little chap reached his destination safely and changed my life in doing so.
My husband only has about 10% of the normal healthy sperm that he needs, but that's still a battalion of millions. It would only take one brave little sperm to fight against adversity and keep swimming, passing so many fallen comrades, but enduring, ever onward to the prize at the end of the road.
I spend the days before my period comes examining my body for signs of something being different, although it should be borne in mind that I haven't experienced early pregnancy for 13 years. I'm looking for a glow in my cheeks, signs of nausea, changes in the colour of sensitivity of my nipples. They're never there, but I think sometimes I convince myself that they are. Such is my desperation for them.
Inevitably, my period comes and I feel such a crushing sense of disappointment. It's really hard to accept the failure of our bodies to do what they were designed to do. Every single month. Of course, the misery is helped along nicely by hormones and pains and bleeding. My poor husband just waits for the onslaught of tears when I tell him that I've come on.
You'd think that all this would be enough to stop me hoping that something will be different next month, but in fact, it almost has the opposite effect. I use the hope of the next month to get me through each period and I look forward to feeling excited and positive again. So perhaps the optimism isn't all bad.
So now, I'm going to go and enjoy what's left of my delusion that one little chap reached his destination safely and changed my life in doing so.
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