OTD

My head was humming with so many thoughts I thought it might actually explode. That on top of a banging headache didn't make for a very successful night's sleep. I woke up every hour and at 5am I could hold my pee no longer. Jon and I dragged ourselves, bleary-eyed into the bathroom and I urinated into a plastic cup. Three minutes and two negative tests later and we were back in bed, devastated and contemplating what what do next. I suggested I'd like to get away for a week on a beach, somewhere hot, anywhere but here would be preferable right now. I cried, I could tell Jon wanted to cry too but he was trying to be brave for me. The tests confirmed the inevitable, the progesterone hadn't done it's job and I'd started bleeding yesterday afternoon; while I was prepared for the worst, I was still clinging on to the tiniest glimmer of hope. We'd already spent most of last night in tears so it was almost a relief to put us out of our misery, our only NHS cycle had failed so we can finally put this to bed and start dealing with life without IVF.

I'd taken the last two days off work as I'd been feeling shitty, it's that all-too-familiar pre-festive bug that you usually get when you work and party too hard in the run up to Christmas. It's a real kick in the teeth as I'd avoided all three of my Christmas parties, hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in six weeks and had been eating healthily. I was now glad of the two days at home as on top of feeling like crap physically, I now have to deal with the emotional agony of our IVF failure. It f***ing hurts.

Unfortunately, Jon had to go to work this morning so I was left at home alone with my thoughts. Messages from friends came through on my phone, all wanting to know how it had gone. While I was grateful for the outpouring of love jumping out from the screen, I soon got tired and upset with trying to refashion the same unfortunate reply. I started to copy and paste the response message which, if you know me, is something I would never usually do. I just wanted to let everyone know as quickly as possible without having to ponder over it. At that moment, I felt a slight pang of regret that we'd told so many of our close friends about the IVF treatment, I did however, appreciate the love and support.

One of the hardest things I had to do was tell my mother, I could tell she was beyond heartbroken for us. Since my father's death (and years before), she's longed for a grandchild and I'd really hoped that we would be able to make this dream possible, not only for myself and Jon, but for her and Jon's parents too.

 After festering in bed all morning, I decided to be more proactive with my afternoon; I washed my hair with nice smelling shampoo, drank a strong coffee and painted my nails - all things that had been part of my self-imposed prohibition. The original plan was for me to travel up to Norfolk to stay with my Mum for a couple of days and to attend a wedding as her plus one. I couldn't bear the thought of being without Jon tonight or driving on my own while I was feeling so dreadful, so Jon returned home early, we packed up the car and drove the three hour journey to the motherland together.

Of course there were tears all round, but sometimes there's nothing better than a big Mama hug.