Time to Smile xx

I turn 31 on Friday, and this has gotten me thinking about how I spent a whole year of being 30. Realistically, I spent it either having surgeries and procedures, or recovering from those surgeries and procedures. I have spent an entire year in horrible pain, attempting and failing to find something to ease that pain. I'm still having the same pain, it is getting worse and the Specialists are looking at options for me, but I really think I am resigning myself to being in pain for the foreseeable future, and realising that I need to find the strength from within myself to cope with that and not have it dictate my life as it has been doing.

Lots of things happened while I was 30, I had 2 major operations, 3 IV nerve-block infusions, I had an occipital infusion, I had injections to basically put my reproductive system to sleep to allow my body to heal (I'll write more about this soon). This was the year that we got a new puppy (the beautiful and not-at-all spoiled, Penny), we went on an amazing cruise holiday in the Caribbean - our activities were very limited due to my pain levels, as this was only a few weeks after my last surgery, but we had an absolutely amazing time, and probably the most difficult thing I did while I was 30.... I did this past week..... I went to the DENTIST...!!!

We had booked this cruise holiday back in January 2013, and it felt like it was never going to come round. Of course, having surgery six weeks before our departure date did put a spanner in the works, and we were sure I wouldn't be cleared to go.... but thanks to my amazing GP and an insane amount of medication (I don't know how I got through airport security), I was cleared to go, equipped with a detailed letter clearly outlining my medical information and current situation - should I need to receive medical attention while we were away. Thankfully, this didn't become necessary and just getting away from everything for a bit really was exactly what we both needed.

This holiday was significant for us in another way, it meant that we would be docked at the beautiful port of Belize on the 6th of November, exactly 5 years after we lost Noah. This had crossed my mind when I returned from the UK in August, and I wanted to make it special for both of us, but I also wanted to make sure that this was a turning point for us.... Of course then I had emergency surgery, and I actually completely forgot about what I had arranged.

On the morning of the 6th of November, we got off the ship and had a lovely few hours in Belize. Even though it was well above 30 degrees and the sun was blazing, there was an unseen dark cloud surrounding us, neither of us needed to vocalise it - we just knew what the other was feeling, memories of that day five years earlier are etched in our minds and we can easily recall that day, minute by minute as if it were yesterday. Knowing that I needed a distraction, but also wanting to do something special, Patrick took me to a jewellery store and got me the most beautiful diamond and blue tourmaline ring. It is beautiful, it is precious and I will treasure it forever. It is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen and it means the world to me, not only because of the connection it now has with Noah, but because of the thought and sentiment behind Patrick buying it for me.

We got back to the ship a little after 4pm - it took a little longer to get back, as I had to stop every few feet to admire the amazing sparkle off of my new ring as the sun bounced off of it. The sun easily hit this ring, as that dark cloud had lifted just enough to let the light in.
We went straight back to our stateroom when we got back on the ship, and there waiting for us... was what I had arranged back in August. It was as much a surprise for me as I had genuinely completely forgotten about it. It was a gift from Noah... chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of champagne... accompanied by a simple note that read 'It's Time to Smile xx'

... And smile, we did. Patrick was astounded that I had managed to organise this without his knowledge, as we hadn't been apart for the entire holiday. I noticed his eyes welling up as he considered the sentiment behind this gesture, not only the memory of Noah, but also what this gesture signified. He has waited a long, long time for me to reach a point where I could feel that it is time to smile again, and in a way, even though I had organised this myself.... it truly felt to us like Noah was giving us permission to smile again. He was giving us permission to let go of the grief and sadness and to move on with our lives. We will never forget, and it will never be easy. Significant dates will always be difficult, but maybe, just maybe.. we will remember to find a reason to smile no matter how difficult those days become.


I mentioned earlier about going to the Dentist this past week. I know this is a routine thing for most people, but I have the most horrendous fear of Dentists. I hadn't been in 9 years, but I made myself go last Saturday (I had some help with this, and in all honesty, there is no way I would have gone if it hadn't been for a little push from some of my friends). I was in such a state, I was in tears just entering the Surgery. The Dentist and the hygienist were just lovely and put me right at ease. They talked me through everything and made me feel like I had total control. If I wanted them to stop at any point, all I had to do was raise my right hand. They did a routine examination, and a scale and polish. I was feeling super proud of myself for going through with the appointment... but then they told me that I would have to return for three fillings, and would have to be admitted to hospital in the New Year to have two of my wisdom teeth surgically removed. I went yesterday to have the first of three fillings. I have honestly never felt fear like that in my life. He put gel on my gums to make the needle less painful, and I was freaking out just at the gel part. I wasn't worried about the needle, they don't bother me, but I really cannot pinpoint the actual root of my fear. I was ready to leave at that point, I was panicky and just did not want to be there. That Dentist is an absolute genius, because he somehow managed to calm me down enough for me to give it another go. As soon as I felt the needle enter my gum, I found myself in a very familiar situation. I found myself forcing my mind to detach from my body, and suddenly I was somewhere else. I was aware of the drills and whatever else he was using to work on my tooth, but I was okay. I wasn't even there. This is an escape mechanism that I perfected during the many, many painful procedures I endured while going through IVF. I could detach from my body and put myself in an environment where I was safe and comfortable. This is why I often describe those procedures as if I was standing there watching them happen to somebody else. 

I left there feeling so much more confident, but also extremely proud of myself. I had accomplished something that I had been putting off for so long. I have to go back on Saturday for 2 more fillings, so I hope I'm feeling as confident going in on Saturday morning...!!!

A lot of things happened while I was 30, the most significant thing being my heart stopping for 24 seconds. This has definitely been the most defining and clarifying occurrence  of the last 12 months... if not, the last 31 years. It's made me appreciate life and just how delicate life is. It's woken me up to just how much my body can take, and I truly see this as a warning from my body that it just cannot take anymore. People keep asking me if I saw a light or anything like that when my heart stopped.... the answer is that I did not see a light when my heart stopped... it was when I woke up and realised what had happened, that I saw the light. 

I did a lot while I was 30, but there was one thing that I forgot to do..... I forgot to live.

I will not be making that mistake again xx

Wave Of Light 2014

I have so many things to write about, but I need to get my head around them first - before I can put them into words.

For now though, Here is our contribution to this year's Wave Of Light. One candle lighting for each of our babies.

October 15th: International Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day.

All around the world, parents light candles for their angel babies at 7pm. Its a small gesture, but it means so much to us, and seeing social networks filling up with pictures of burning candles for all of those precious angel babies - is the ultimate reminder that we are not alone.

A simple, but profound way to connect strangers worldwide in heartbreaking solidarity.

.xx.

Lucky To Be Here...

Three weeks ago, as I drove home from an appointment with Gordon in Cork... I got the most horrible pain in my left side, a ripping pain... a familiar pain, a pain that made my heart sink. I knew that pain only too well, it was the pain of an ovarian cyst rupturing, and in my experience.. anytime I have experienced this pain in the past, it has been followed by emergency surgery. I did not want to have more surgery, in fact... I was prepared to avoid having more surgery at all costs.

I managed to get home, the pain settled after a few hours and while it never went away, it never got any worse. So in my mind, I figured maybe its just going to clear up on its own. 
I went to work as normal the next two days, and couldn't understand the puzzled looks I was getting. I think I was oblivious to the pain I was in, power of the mind or something like that, but apparently it was very very obvious to all around me that there was something wrong, and I needed to be getting some medical attention.

I continued as I was for two more days... until midnight on the Saturday. I was home alone as Patrick's band was playing at a wedding and he wouldn't be home til after 3am. It was around midnight when I felt the pain ripping up through my side and I fought it til Patrick came home. I took some painkillers and fell asleep for a few hours. I woke up just after 6am and it was only at that point that I knew I needed to get some help. Even still, I figured I'd call the Caredoc and they'd put me on some antibiotics and I'd be fine in a few days.

I did call the Caredoc, who immediately sent an ambulance. I felt it was a bit 'overkill', but it wasn't long before I was proven very very wrong. The ambulance arrived and I walked out and got into the back and lay on the stretcher. The pain was bad, very bad, but another problem quickly became evident. My blood pressure was very very low, but my heart rate was very very high. This meant that they could not give me any painkillers. The paramedic arranged for an advanced paramedic to meet us en route. He was unable to get an IV line in, as my veins are so bad, So they decided the best course of action was to try some gas and air, and to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.
I struggled with taking the gas and air, I wasn't able to take really deep breaths because the pain was too bad. I managed to get the hang of the breathing and was experiencing some relief from the pain.
Suddenly I felt myself losing consciousness, it felt exactly like being put asleep before an operation. I was out for a few seconds and as I was coming round, I could hear the paramedic talking to me, but it seemed like he was really really far away. I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. It was all very very confusing.

So... we arrived at the hospital and I told the Dr. that I was 99% certain that I had a ruptured cyst. They admitted me and registered me under a gynae team. They put me on 8 hourly pethidine injections, and that really helped with the pain. The following day (Monday), they did an ultrasound scan and decided that it was not a gynae problem and I was passed over to a surgical team. The next day, they did a colonoscopy - which also came back clear. They were supposed to do a CT scan the next day, but due to some processing issues, it didn't happen til the Thursday. The CT scan also came back clear. The Consultant instructed me to fast from midnight and they would decide on a course of action the following morning. 

In my heart, I knew this meant surgery. I really did not want more surgery. The surgical consultant came to see me early on Friday morning, and said the words that I did not want to hear 'We need to operate'. I understood, I didn't know how I was feeling, but I understood. I called Patrick and he came to the hospital as quickly as he could. I had to wait a few hours but I was doing ok. In my heart I knew that I was right. I knew it was a ruptured cyst, and I knew that it would just be a routine operation, nothing to worry about. I wasn't really a ball of nerves like I usually am, I really just wanted to get the pain sorted. Even as they wheeled me down to theatre, I was okay. Patrick kissed me and I said 'see ya later', I really was okay, I wasn't worried... it was just routine.

So... I was wrong about that too. It turned out that there was nothing routine about this operation. I was correct about the ruptured cyst... except it wasn't just 'a' ruptured cyst... it was 6 ruptured cysts, my appendix was infected and needed to be removed, they found endometriosis that needed to be burned, and again... both ovaries needed to be burned and drilled. Both the surgical consultant and the gynae consultant were operating on me at the same time.... and then..... then my heart arrested for 24 seconds, and I had to be resuscitated. What should have been a routine 90 minute operation, became a four hour battle in theatre. I was intubated for seven hours and spent that evening in the special care unit. I returned to the ward early the following morning, and was greeted with lots and lots of messages on my phone, very very worried messages from friends who had expected to hear from me immediately after the operation. The next concern was that there was an outbreak of the Norovirus in the hospital, in fact - the ward I was in was currently the only room in the whole hospital that didn't have the virus. I was faced with a decision... do I stay in the hospital for a few days to rest and recover a bit before going home, while risking contracting the Norovirus which would be detrimental to my recovery, or do I go home even though it is way too soon after surgery, but at least I'd be safe from the virus. I decided to go home, and every day since then I have asked myself if I made the right decision.

I was okay for the first few days. Sure, I was in pain and very sore and stiff, but once the anaesthetic really wore off... Good Grief, I genuinely felt like I had been hit by a double-decker bus. Every part of my body actually hurt, it was all so painful. Six days after getting home, Penny jumped on my stomach and burst the stitches in the wound that goes right through my belly-button. The surgeon had told me to be very careful with that wound. It wasn't very secure. The same wound has just been opened and stitched too many times, that the skin just cannot be stitched anymore. This meant a trip to the Caredoc on Friday night, who cleaned the wound and packed it really tight in the hope of stopping the bleeding/seeping. She told me that the wound was infected and prescribed some antibiotics. Unfortunately, the wound has continued to bleed and seep. We have been cleaning it and changing the bandages every few hours in the hope that we can get it to heal. It seems that is all we can do, as it just cannot be stitched. 

The following morning I woke up at 4am with the most horrific pain in both of my sides. It felt tight, compressed and I couldn't move. I called Patrick and he came downstairs. We managed to get me into a position where the pain was manageable, but it seemed to me that I was getting worse, rather than better. It turns out that sometimes the ovaries can 'sleep' during anaesthetics, and it can take them a while to wake up, but once they do... you are going to feel them. Anything to do with the ovaries is extremely painful and takes a long time to heal. I remember the ovary pain from the previous times that I have had them burned and drilled, but I don't remember the pain coming on a few days after the operation.

I'm struggling a lot with this recovery. It's been 9 days since the operation, and I am still in a huge amount of pain. Moving hurts. My right side is in absolute bits. The wound in my belly-button is still seeping, but we're keeping on top of it. I am getting a lot of rest and doing what I need to do for myself right now. The fact that I had to have yet more surgery has come as a huge shock, but the realisation of what happened during that operation has scared the life out of me. It has shaken me so badly, and it has shaken everyone that knows me. This is the biggest operation that I have ever had, and yes, it has taken eleven operations for me to realise that I need to put myself first.

So many of my friends have called and messaged over the last 9 days, wanting to visit, and while I hated doing it - I had to tell each and every one of them that I just wasn't able for visitors just yet, I needed another week or so to get myself feeling a bit more human. Every time that I have had surgery in the past, I had visitors straight away and didn't really give myself those initial few days to allow my body to rest. I realised the importance of allowing my body to rest, this time, but aside from that, I just wasn't in a place where I wanted to see people, or maybe that I didn't want them to see me. My body has been through a huge amount of trauma, and for the first time in my life.... I realise just how lucky I am to be here.

Maybe It's Time.......

I've found myself fighting tears a lot lately. We've been doing some redecorating at work, starting with our Baby Room, and it was 'time' for me to do something I felt like I needed to do a long time ago, and tried several times... but I could never bring myself to actually do it..... Until now...

This is one of the walls in the newly redecorated Baby Room, and the question I have been asked so many times in the past two weeks is 'Where did you get that border, it's beautiful?' It is beautiful and it is perfect and it is more special to me than anyone could ever even imagine.

You see.... I found that border in a magazine and I spent days trying of find somewhere in the country that stocked it. I came up blank, but I did find a shop that would order it in especially for me... and so that's what we did. That border was ordered back in the Summer of 2010, right before we started our first IVF cycle.... and it has sat in a drawer in the kitchen ever since.

To me, that border was the epitome of perfection, it was exactly what I wanted in the nursery for my son or daughter that was sure to arrive nine months after we started that first cycle... What could possibly go wrong...???

I suppose a more accurate question would be 'What wouldn't go wrong?'... and we all know that the answer to that is 'Absolutely Nothing'. Anything that could go wrong, did go wrong and here I stood 4 years, 7 pregnancies and 10 angel babies later... looking at that border every time I opened that drawer in the kitchen and every time I did, that knife twisted in my heart and I realised that I am no longer that enthusiastic 26 year old, I am no longer that woman who has suffered a miscarriage and an ectopic pregnancy, but was willing to place herself in the hands of the Fertility Doctors... because they assured her that they could help her to get pregnant and stay pregnant, they could make sure that there was a beautiful baby to place in that beautiful nursery room with that perfect border. I am no longer that person who can remove myself from my body and stand by and watch as I push myself further and further into the oblivion that is Fertility Treatment, completely regardless of what it was doing to me.... I was only the vessel.... the carrier... it was my future baby that was the only important person, and it didn't matter what I had to go through for that baby, I would do it.... and it didn't matter what anyone said to me... it didn't matter that my oldest brother pleaded to me down the phone after yet another surgery, to 'please stop this, this is going to kill you', It didn't matter that Patrick told me of his concerns that 'maybe someday you won't wake up from an operation', it didn't matter that my friends asked me 'what is it going to take to get you to stop this?', To which I always responded 'I will have a baby, or die trying'..... None of this mattered to me.... the only thing that mattered was the future baby that I would have to place in that beautiful nursery with the perfect border... nothing else mattered... I didn't matter. 

And so... I finally discovered the strength to part with that notion of my beautiful nursery with the perfect border, and instead decided that maybe I could share that idea with all of the fantastic people who place their babies in my care every single day. 

That border has been up in the Baby Room for about two weeks now and I find myself going in there and feeling very comforted. Everyone comments that it is 'just perfect' and that it is now a 'beautiful nursery'... and it is, it is a beautiful nursery room with a perfect border and the only difference is that it can now be enjoyed by lots of different babies, instead of just one. 

I spent the past 3 days in the UK for some University things, and I got to spend some time with some very special friends. While I was over there, even though I was on a fairly tight schedule - I realised that I was having a really good time, I was having fun, I was enjoying myself, I wasn't stressed... (well, apart from a minor meltdown because I couldn't figure out the underground system on my own). While I was there, I was just 'Anne-Marie', and I was happy to just be 'Anne-Marie'. I didn't have the daily reminders of everything that I have been through and everything that I have lost. 

On Friday evening after dinner, I had a bit of a heart-to-heart with one of my friends about this and what surprises me is that I could open up and talk about it, I could vocalise what has been going on in my head for months but what I haven't wanted to say out loud because it scared me too much to hear it. For the first time, I could hear how ridiculous it sounds to go to the Czech Republic and put myself through absolute hell all over again... based on the hope of a 1% chance that my embryos might be viable enough to get past the first trimester. 1% - that's what we're talking about here.... 1%. 

For the first time, I could see what I've put myself through... I could see what I was and what this has done to me. Being removed from my 'situation' with a little distance, I could see what everyone else sees... and for the first time ever, I could talk about this without breaking down in floods of tears. This friend who I adore and for whom I have so much respect, took my hand and said' Anne-Marie, maybe it's time you started to live your life', and as I sit here and type this blog post, fighting to see the keys through floods of tears... I have to admit that maybe I agree.

Patrick and I had a long conversation about this, this morning, and I could see as I spoke to him about what I was feeling that I was just reiterating to him what he had been feeling all along, but needed me to come to that realisation for myself. Maybe it's time that we stop putting our lives on hold for this anymore, maybe it's time that we start making plans for more than 3 months into the future, instead of  being afraid to do that in case that is the time that we are ready to go ahead with more treatment. Maybe it's time that we start to do the things that we have always wanted to do, but haven't 'just in case', maybe it's time when it's ok for me to decide I want to drink coffee (I haven't had coffee in years), or I want to go out and get hammered with my friends every so often, maybe it's time for me to let my hair down and have some fun and not be afraid that everything I do is going to have some adverse effect on my future pregnancy. Maybe it's time for me to start running again, dancing again, singing again.....

Maybe it's time for me to just be 'Anne-Marie' again.......

"It's Okay To Be Okay"

I had a visit with Gordon today, it was a really nice session - we talked a lot. It felt like it had been ages since I'd been there, but really it was only a few weeks.... I had to cancel my last appointment coz I dropped my beautiful MacBook Pro on my left foot, the edge of it landed right along the line where my toes meet my foot. It's been extremely painful and I've been on crutches and unable to drive. It does seem to be improving a bit now though, so fingers crossed I'll be able to manage without the crutches in the next few days.

This was the first time in quite a while that we have talked about returning to IVF and that kind of thing. I told Gordon that my head was so messed up about it and as the time increases since our last IVF treatments - I'm finding myself getting more and more comfortable with the idea of not going back for more treatment. I told him that it feels so wrong to be feeling that way, especially as I have always said that if there is even a 1% chance that it could work, then nothing would stop me. It's just not sitting right with me at all that I am starting to feel this way.

Gordon's response completely stopped me in my tracks, it interrupted my train of thought and made me re-evaluate how I have been feeling.

Gordon said "Anne-Marie, it's okay to be okay"

He reminded me of how the past 5 years have been for me, he talked about how IVF has completely controlled my life, he recalled everything that I have been through because of IVF, he talked about what I am still going through because of IVF... He told me that the fact that I have spent so long wanting to rush straight back into all of that, just wasn't healthy for me. He said that I needed to get to a place within myself where I can just be okay and not have everything revolve around IVF, and he said that he was really happy that I seemed to be achieving that level of 'being' now.

Gordon talked about how sometimes we just need to slow down, and when we are unable to do that for ourselves... Life can make us slow down - whether we want to, or not. I guess life is kinda making me slow down (or trying to, at least). Apart from the ongoing nerve pain I've been having in my lower left abdomen, for the past 6 weeks I have been experiencing horrible attacks of cluster headaches. They are like really really intense migraines that are concentrated around my left eye, causing it to weep and swell. They also travel down the back of the left side of my head and into my neck and shoulder. These cluster headaches are occurring almost daily, sometimes several times a day and are extremely debilitating. I mentioned these headaches to my Pain Specialist during the review appointment after the last Infusion, and he suggested that we can try a procedure called an 'Occipital Nerve Block', this basically involves injecting a series of anaesthetics and steroids directly into the nerves that cause the pain (in the back of my head), in order to numb or 'block' that nerve and reduce the levels of pain that I am feeling during these attacks. If this is successful, it could achieve an end to this attack of Cluster headaches (they tend to be seasonal, so could return around the same time next year), or at the very least - reduced levels of pain for a number of weeks.

I am scheduled to have my first Occipital Nerve Block this coming Friday morning,  followed immediately by my third Nerve Block Infusion. After the horrid experience I had last time, my Pain Specialist has agreed to keep the levels of Ketamine the same as last time (to hopefully keep the hallucinations to a minimum), increase the levels of Lidocaine (for increased pain relief), and double the levels of Propofol (so that I will fall asleep much more quickly). I'm expecting to be pretty sick and out-of-it for the weekend, but hopefully after 2-3 days, I will be feeling a whole lot better.

So, with an injured foot on top of all of that going on... maybe Gordon is right. Maybe I do need to slow down a bit.... and now that I am starting to notice that I can be okay.... maybe, just maybe I can work towards being okay to be okay... and if he's right about all of that.... maybe he is right that I will just know when I am ready to go back for more treatment, but not before I am just okay for a while.xx.

Friendship is........

One year ago yesterday, I sat in Gordon's Clinic. I wasn't able to concentrate, I was barely able to speak. I was waiting for news and I truly wasn't sure how I was going to react when I got it.
You see... my best friend (and colleague) had gone into hospital that morning to have her baby. She was having a C-section, so I knew that at some point that morning I would get a message, probably a picture... what I didn't know was how that was going to affect me. I didn't know what my reaction would be. 

The message finally came. it read 'Baby Eimear arrived at 10:14 weighing 6lbs 12ox. xx', accompanied by a picture of this beautiful little being, minutes old. 

I cried..... I don't fully know why I was crying, but gosh did I cry. I was so happy for my friend, she'd had a tough pregnancy and I was conscious that I had somewhat distanced myself from her pregnancy, even though we never spoke about it.... I know she was also conscious of not flashing her pregnancy in my face. There were times over the previous few months when I'd felt like the crappiest friend ever, times when she'd been admitted to hospital and she didn't even tell me until afterwards. It was only a few weeks ago that she even told me about the difficult time she had when she was having Eimear.

Infertility controls your life to such an extent, that not only can you not have your own experiences to enjoy.... it doesn't let you enjoy other people's experiences either... and then there's the whole aspect of how it affects other people. I know how uneasy she was about breaking the news to me that we had to cancel our overnight shopping trip because she was pregnant, I know how difficult it was for her to conveniently 'forget' to bring her scan pictures to work, I know what was going through her mind when she changed the settings on her Facebook page so that her scan pictures would not show up on my newsfeed.  She was pregnant, she was about to bring new life into the world, she was having a difficult pregnancy... she did not need the added pressure of having to protect me from her pregnancy.

I think part of the reason I was crying was pure relief. She could just be my 'friend' again, she no longer had to be my 'pregnant friend'. I think I had built up the anticipation of this moment for so long, so many times I had imagined getting that message and each time I had imagined myself reacting differently... I think I was so relieved that it had finally happened... baby Eimear had arrived safely, she was healthy and happy, my friend was doing well, all was going fine.... and I think I was relieved that on some level, I actually was okay.

Eimear was 9 days old when I got to see her, my friend simply messaged me that morning telling me that she had no visitors that day and Eimear wanted a cuddle. I drove to her house, an absolute ball of anxiety about how I was going to handle this.... but once I got there and she placed Eimear in my arms... none of it mattered anymore, she was perfect, it was all perfect and it was at that point that I knew that I could be okay and that everything was going to be okay.

I left my friend's house that day and I was proud of myself, I was so proud of myself, but also, I was proud of my friend. It had been difficult from both sides, but we got through it, and that's testament to her as a person, and the strength of our friendship.

Gordon asked me why this particular pregnancy had affected me so much, I've had lots of friends and family members who have had babies..... and I refused to answer him, I asked him please not to push me on this. He was surprised as I don't think I have ever asked him not to push a topic before, I usually completely trust him and am happy to go along with however he wants the sessions to progress. 

A few weeks later, I showed him that picture and he told me he was so proud of me. He then asked 'Can you tell me now?' I shook my head, and the subject has never been brought up again.

I can tell you now... the disaster that was the 'double transfer - ectopic pregnancy - emergency surgery - chemotherapy' fiasco... involved the transfer of 2 beautiful embryos, one day 5 blastocyst and one day 6 blastocyst. The resulting due dates for those babies was the 8th and 9th of July. That whole episode was quite honestly, the absolute lowest point in my life, and I've tried so hard to recover from that. I've tried to block it out as much as I can, and I promised myself that those dates now belong to my friend and the beautiful Eimear and I'm not gona let that date affect me anymore.

Yeah... you'd think I'd have learned by now that things don't quite work that way. I knew that I needed some time to myself yesterday evening, I knew that I had some crying to do and I really just wanted to be alone. I thought I was doing ok, when I got a Skype call from a very close friend of mine in the UK. As soon as I answered the call I was asked 'what's wrong?', I brushed it off as just having a bad day and tried to move forward with the conversation. This friend however, wasn't going to leave it at that. Again I said that I was just having a bad day and I wasn't able to talk about it, but I'd explain everything tomorrow. Still, it wasn't going to be let lie at that and eventually I just said that my best friend's daughter had her first birthday today, and it was just making me think about stuff.

Ok... so UK friend, knowing that I'd been trying recently to detach from external 'pregnancy related' stimulants, and had been telling myself repeatedly that 'this actually doesn't affect me', when I'd see pregnant women in the supermarket or wherever, and I seemed to be doing well with this approach.

UK friend responds with "You know, you've really got to find a way to stop letting what is happening to other people, affect you so much"... Well, I suppose I need to both apologise to, and thank this friend... because that comment sent me into a 20 minute crying rant of everything that was going on in my head and in my heart, and while it was said in terms of 'I can't believe you just said that to me', before I realised what was happening, I had divulged everything about those dates and why it was so hard for me. 

I lay awake for most of the night, not being able to turn off my head and my thoughts, and kinda feeling embarrassed about getting so upset and externalising my connection to those dates without really meaning to. It's funny how something becomes so real as soon as you say it out loud, and I was annoyed with myself for saying it out loud. I was annoyed that I couldn't just deal with it internally like I had planned, I was annoyed that I had reacted to that comment in the way that I did...but... I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and after allowing my thoughts to settle for a bit - I realised that there is actually no reason for me to keep that a secret, and maybe reacting like that was just what I needed to do.

So... I'm sorry I took your head off, but when it grows back... I'll thank you for being you and saying exactly what you were thinking, because otherwise it may have been another year or two before I actually faced up to the reality of this.

Life is hard, really hard at times and there will always be good days and bad days, the thing I still struggle with (yes, even after all of this time) is that I don't have to go through my bad days alone, I don't have to shut myself off, I don't have to lock myself in the bedroom when I feel like I'm going to break down and I need to cry. I have friends, I have the best friends in the world. I have friends who will shelter me from their worries, who will think of me and how things affect me even though they are going through so much themselves, I have friends who will let me rant at them for 20 minutes simply because they know I need to and will then apologise for upsetting me, even though I was completely out of line. 

I do not have a lot of people that I call my 'friend', but to the two that I have spoken about in this post...

Thank you for being my friend xx 

(Oh... and Happy Birthday Eimear xx)

A Lot Has Happened........

I haven't posted in a while. I've thought about posting a lot but lots of things have happened in the past two months and I kinda started to feel like I don't know where to start with a new post. 

I thought about posting the day I brought that quilt down to Gordon's Clinic and he was just speechless, when he found his words - he told me that he knew what this meant to me and what it will mean to the other women and couples who attend his Clinic. He told me that I can have it back anytime that I want because he knows how much of myself I put into that, and I responded by telling him that I might ask for it, but I will never ask for it back. I told him that there will be days that I will need to know that this quilt is there and there will be days that I need to sit and hold that quilt and probably cry my eyes out. That's the thing about this journey (and probably any difficult journey), there will always be 'days'... days when you are good, days when you are not so good, days when you want to physically injure the person sitting across from you in the restaurant coz he is breathing too loudly, days when you want to be left alone to curl up in a ball or just be with your thoughts and memories, days when you want to be surrounded by people, days when you need to talk about what you are going through and days when you don't want to talk to anyone.  Gordon has gotten pretty good at knowing what kind of day I'm having without me actually having to tell him. He can tell a lot from the tone of my emails (I know that sounds like I email him every day.... I really really don't, but I'm sure at times it certainly feels like I do, to him...!!!), or from how I greet him when he opens the door for me at his Clinic, so I don't doubt that someday will be the 'day' that I need to see that quilt and hold it and feel it. Probably some day when I feel like hope has abandoned me and I will need to be reminded and re-inspired by the amount of hope that has gone into that quilt... when it was being made, but also since it has been at Aculife Clinic. 
Gordon emailed me that evening to tell me that the response to the quilt at his Clinic was just amazing. He was showing it to his clients and many had actually asked to see it as they had read my blog post. He said the one resounding response from almost every woman who saw it, was "Some day I want my star to be on that quilt". They were all asking if they could have a star on the quilt when their baby finally arrives. You have to imagine that every woman who attends Aculife Clinic has a story, a journey, they have all had a difficult time trying to get pregnant or trying to stay pregnant, they all have the one same dream to hold their own baby in their arms, and if my quilt has given them the hope, strength and determination for 'if' to become 'when', even for one second.... then that makes me very very happy and I know I did the right thing. Of course the answer is 'yes', Every Aculife baby can and will have a star on that quilt.

I also thought about posting when I was referred to a pain specialist because the pain in my left side just would not ease or settle down at all, since the surgery last December. The Pain specialist believes that my pain is caused by a combination of 2 things. The first being that the nerves in my lower left abdominal area are just so badly damaged from being operated on so many times - that they just do not know how to stop hurting. He likened it to an amputee who continues to feel pain in their limb even though it is no longer there. The nerves just do not know how to stop hurting. 
The second reason is down to adhesions. Every time you are opened up and your insides are exposed to air, this creates a sticky substance that joins organs together. So, for example, if I have an adhesion joining my bowel to my ovary... every time food passes through my bowel, as my bowel contracts - it pulls on the adhesion, which in turn pulls on my ovary and this entire process causes a lot of pain.
So we got to talking about solutions or indeed, options. The only option for the adhesions is surgery, and as far as I'm concerned that is not an option right now or anytime in the foreseeable future.
There are a few options to try and help the nerve pain, but the one we decided to try was a series of nerve block infusions. This is basically an infusion of three different anaesthetic drugs - Ketamine, Lignocaine and Propofol. To date, I have had 2 of these infusions. The first was a very funny experience. The doses used were low and basically I was just laying on a bed with a needle in my arm, having a mixture of these drugs pumped into me. I felt nothing for about 10 minutes, but the nurse had warned me that it can kinda creep up on you. When the ten minute mark hit, suddenly I felt the walls and the ceiling closing in on me. I really didn't like that, I'm very claustrophobic. Then out of nowhere, my hallucinations came in the form of hedgehogs crawling all over me, and every time the blood-pressure cuff would tighten, I was convinced that it was hedgehogs biting me. Ok.... I didn't say it was a funny experience for me... but it was for everyone else. Apparently I told the anaesthetist that I was going to recommend him to all of my friends, and I demanded pizza off of the poor nurse who was getting me tea and toast in the recovery room... and when I got home, I practically attacked Patrick and my brother Liam because they wouldn't stop asking me questions while I was trying to sleep and they kept laughing at me..... well, it turns out they weren't actually asking me questions and were laughing at the fact that I was going mental at them because I was imagining that they were asking me questions. I got two days proper relief from the pain in my side after this infusion, and definitely a decreased awareness of the pain for a few weeks afterwards. I did have a pain in my head for the first day after the infusion, but that passed quickly.
The second infusion was a completely different story. The doses were a lot higher. I had brought my music and headphones in with me as a means of distracting myself from what was going on around me. I was kinda surprised as the Pain Specialist told me if I was planing on using them, I better do it at that point, as he was connecting up the syringe. I quickly found out why he told me that. Within minutes, I had lost all use of my hands, feet, legs and arms. I had no feeling in them, I couldn't move my head or my neck. I was completely paralysed. I couldn't speak. As the drugs flowed into my system, I began to hallucinate again... except this time it wasn't hedgehogs..... this time it was babies.... 10 beautiful babies around my bed. Nine little boys and one little girl... and she was beautiful, I was fixated on her. She had her hair in pigtails and she was just the most perfect, precious little thing. I can see her now, as clear as anything. In that moment, I was so thankful for this experience, In my drug induced state, I felt like I had been given a moment with my babies, something that I never got to have, and I was so so thankful for it. It was short lived though as suddenly, one by one... each of my babies was taken away and I knew that I would never see them again. I began to cry... except crying when you are paralysed is pretty much just tears running down your face. I cried and cried and cried and eventually I must have dozed off, I have no idea what I may have said to the Dr. as I was coming round and the meds were wearing off, or even if I said anything to him, it may have been because my face was tear-stained and it was very obvious that I had been crying, but he placed his hand on my left shoulder and just gently squeezed. It was a lovely gesture and I genuinely think that he knew that this infusion had been really tough for me.
After this infusion was tough also.... not least because everyone was expecting funny stories like the previous time :-), but I was in a zombie-like state for a few days, I couldn't shake off what I had just experienced, I couldn't get the image of those babies and particularly that little baby girl out of my head, I genuinely felt like I had just lost them all over again. It was tough, it was very tough.
That infusion was three weeks ago and for the majority of that time, I have been suffering with horrible attacks of cluster-headaches (they're like migraines, but more intense and can attack up to 11 times a day). I don't know if there is a connection between the infusion and this attack, as I have had an attack of cluster headaches once before, but I'm meeting with the Pain Specialist next Tuesday to discuss it and see where we go from here.

I thought about posting after Patrick's sister-in-law (and one of my truly closest friends) was in a horrific car accident 4 weeks ago. All of our lives changed in a split second, and for a few days we really didn't know if we would ever see her again. Thankfully, she is a fighter and has made fantastic progress. She is home and doing great. She has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but how it so easily could have been so different. This made me so thankful for what I do have and made me conscious of the things that really matter and those that really really don't. I'm a real worrier, but this has given me the realisation that life is so precious and can be changed permanently or taken away in a split second - do we really have time to be worrying needlessly..???

A lot has happened in a relatively short space of time, and I'm glad that I have now posted abut all the things I thought of posting about, but now let me tell you about the thing that triggered me posting this morning at all.....

I was doing some early morning browsing on Facebook, when I came across this. Initially it just made me mad. Hundreds/thousands of babies being abandoned because their parents can't afford to keep them... and they can legally just drop their babies off at these hatches, with no process, no procedures.... just abandonment and the knowledge that they will never see their child again... and yet, here we are... desperate to have a child of our own, we could give a child like that such a wonderful life.... but we can't. Why?..... because my BMI is above what is considered 'normal'.
Early last year, we went to an information meeting about Adoption... we just wanted to keep our options open and explore all avenues. Well... the outcome of that was that we would not be able to adopt an Irish child because Patrick was too old. He was 36 at the time, but as the process takes 4 years and he would then be 40, that automatically rules us out as prospective adoptive parents for Irish children. It didn't matter that I was only 29 or what our situation was... that ruled us out immediately. So we looked to International adoption. A few years back, it was a relatively easier process and lots of countries were happily adopting their children out to Irish couples. Until one couple adopted a little boy from Indonesia, but decided to return him to the Indonesian orphanage because they fell pregnant with their own child shortly after. This created havoc among the countries who were previously very willing to work with the Irish parents, and it is now a ridiculously stringent process to adopt internationally... which begins with ruling out anyone who's BMI is above 'normal'.

Things that have happened recently have made me realise that I've spent way too many years being embarrassed or ashamed about the amount of weight I put on while we were going through the IVF process and how I've struggled to shift much of that weight because I have been continuously in so much pain, but I would love someone to explain to me why the number that is produced when you divide my weight by my height is more relevant to my ability to care for a child and give a child a good stable home, and a life that they could only dream of at one of their 'hatches', than my actual ability to do this. For eleven years now, I have studied one aspect of 'Childhood' after another, I have top scoring qualifications and Degrees in Early Childhood Care and Education, Clinical Psychology, Educational Psychology, Developmental Psychology and have recently embarked on another Masters Degree in Paediatrics and Epidemiology for Children's Health.  
Five years ago I developed an Early Years Educare Centre in my home town and it has gone from strength to strength. Patrick began working with me last August and there are times that I have to stand back and just admire how good he is with the children who attend the service. He works primarily in the kitchen and doing maintenance when he gets time, but he has such a natural ability with the children (he tells me it is because he is still a big child himself). I watch him with his nieces and nephews and it is impossible not to notice what a great Dad he would make.

Yet, these things aren't even considered. I can't imagine how difficult it is to be in a position where you feel that you have no choice but to abandon your child at a hatch, knowing that you will never see them again, because you can't afford to give them the care that they need..... but wouldn't you much rather know that your child was going to a loving, caring family than be left in the care of the state indefinitely?

It seems to me the desperation of the parents having to abandon their children, is not terribly different from the desperation of those who would give anything to have a child to call their own, and it also seems to me that there is a very very simple solution to all of this.... 

But hey, I'm fat.... what do I know...???

Garden Of Dreams Quilt

Every time, as each of my pregnancies failed, I found myself following the same pattern. Apart from the loss and grief and pain, I always found myself wanting something, needing something... something to honour each baby, something to 'remember' them by, I always felt compelled to make them a part of my every day life..... and I always did just that. The 'things' ranged from art projects, to jewellery, to trinkets and trinket boxes, to teddies, to an Angel Garden, to a fully set up nursery that nobody was allowed to enter because that was 'The Baby's Room'. 

When I had been through this ten times, each time more difficult than the last... I found myself surrounded by quite a lot of 'things' -Things that I thought that I was comforted by, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that was what I had to do. It took me a long time to realise that I was in fact, just surrounding myself with pain and grief and loss. I didn't 'need' the things to make me remember my pregnancies and my babies.... they are a part of me and nothing is ever going to change that. I had found myself having a lot of bad days, and taking progressively longer to come out of my bad days. It was the most difficult thing that I have ever done, but I had to put away the 'things'. Our house had become almost shrine-like, with there being something in every room that was a trigger to grief and sadness. I was living in my fertility history - I was my fertility history...

So, I still have all the 'things', but now they are put away in a box. I know where they are and I can take them out at any time if I want to. The nursery was dismantled and stored away and is now a beautiful spare bedroom. It's bright and airy and just a really nice room, a happy room.

Another thing I should mention..... I LOVE to sew. I find it to be so therapeutic and I just love every part of doing it. I especially love to make quilts. So... while I was in my negative... 'surrounded by grief and sadness' space, I thought I wanted to make a quilt to honour all ten babies.... But I could never bring myself to even start it. I didn't know where to start, or even how to start. 
One evening I found myself looking up different kinds of quilts and came across a book called 'The Healing Quilt' by Lauraine Snelling. I didn't read the book, just the synopsis... it was basically about how four women decide to make a quilt to raise money for a mammogram machine for their local hospital to help a relative of theirs who may or may not have cancer, and as they go through the process of making the quilt blocks and putting them together, they are confronted with the ragged pieces of their own lives and the whole process becomes a healing and cathartic experience for all of them. 

I decided that I didn't want to make a memory quilt, I wanted to make a healing quilt, a hopeful quilt. I spent hours and hours looking for the perfect fabrics and eventually found a range of fabrics called 'The Garden of Dreams' and they were just perfect. I ordered them all the way from China, and I think the girls at work thought I had officially lost it when these fabrics were delivered to my workplace. I was so happy, the fabrics were more beautiful and more meaningful and just more perfect than I ever could have imagined. This was early August 2013.

I vowed that I would only work on this quilt when I was feeling positive and hopeful. It would never be one of those projects that you just do because you've had a bad day at work and you just need to unwind. The first cut and the first stitches were made in that fabric on the day that we attended the Open Day at SIMS Clinic. That was the day that I truly believe that I had found Hope again. That was almost eight months ago, and true to my vow... I only worked on this quilt when I was feeling good and positive and hopeful. It did take eight months, but the last stitch went into that quilt tonight.

Do you wana see...???

I've worked on this quilt a lot this past week, and it has given me so much inspiration. It has pulled me out of the slump that I have been in for the past 4 months. Tuesday just past, as I sat in my sewing room, stitching away to my heart's content... I found myself thinking about all of the people who have been told that they will never be able to have children, but do end up having a child... because they didn't give up. I started to think about all of the women that I pass at Gordon's Clinic and how every single one of them is on the same journey that I am on, the same quest with the same struggles to just find any tiny amount of Hope that maybe, just maybe... it will happen.... and for the first time in a long time, I found myself thinking about the day that I bring my baby home from the hospital, home to a positive, nurturing environment, a place that is full of hope and belief that anything can happen. 

My thoughts kept returning to the other women at Gordon's Clinic. I have found myself many times, afraid to look up from my phone in the waiting room as another lady walks past... for fear of seeing a pregnant woman and having that throw me back into an oblivion of 'when will it be my turn...???'. I haven't really considered that maybe, just maybe... that lady walking past me could perhaps draw some comfort or hope or perhaps even some peace from even making eye contact with just another woman in the waiting room who knows exactly what she is going through. I know there are quite a few women who attend Gordon's Clinic who read and follow my blog, and now that I have discovered 'HOPE' again, I want to share it with each and every one of you. I want to share it with every woman who ever shed a tear in one of the treatment rooms at Aculife Clinic, every woman who ever felt that they just cannot do this anymore, every woman who ever got angry because of the path they find themselves on, every woman who has sat in front of Gordon and cried to him about all of the women surrounding you that are pregnant and how difficult that is for you....

Not only am I sharing my hope with you, I'm sharing my quilt with you.

I am going to bring this quilt to Cork tomorrow and I am going to leave it with Gordon. 

Oh..... I haven't told you the best part yet......

If you look really, really closely you will notice that I have stitched one thousand and eight cascading gold stars into the quilt. That's a precise number... a very precise number..... It is the number of babies that are currently in this world because of Gordon Mullins and Aculife Clinic. Hope and inspiration don't come in much bigger portions than that. 

(You do have to look REALLY closely though)

And... One more thing. This is the first quilt ever that I have given to anybody, that remains unfinished. If you look really, really closely... you will see that there is room for one more star. That star is my star, it is your star, it is the star of every woman who enters that Clinic..... 

I truly believe that this will be complete some day.

To the ladies of Aculife Clinic (was gona go with 'Gordon's Gals' but thought better of it ;-) ),

This is my gift of hope to all of you. I truly wish that you can find as much hope and inspiration in it, as I found in making it. 

Anne-Marie.xx.

(Btw, Gordon knows nothing about this........ yet...!!!)

'That Is Your Space'

Isn't it funny how our emotions can manifest in unexpected ways? I've made no secret of the fact that I've been having the crappiest time in the past few weeks, but really since the surgery and probably as far back as when that bombshell was dropped on us last October. 

When Gordon was checking my pulses last Friday, he commented that my lungs were weak and it was really jumping out at him. That didn't really surprise me as I'd been on antibiotics for a chest infection two weeks ago and while I had felt that it had cleared up, I had been feeling kinda miserable since the previous Wednesday. I was feeling kinda flu-ey, with a sore throat and had developed an annoying cough. I hadn't really thought much of it as there are so many illnesses and viruses going around at the minute... and with a compromised immune system, along with working with children... I do tend to pick up absolutely everything that is going around.

Gordon used some lung points, and they really hurt... not only while he was inserting the needles, but for quite a few minutes after they had been inserted. He said that they were hurting because there is a lot of grief in my body. I didn't really pay any attention to that comment at the time, but it has turned out to be quite a relevant and interesting observation.

So... I had a really miserable weekend, both emotionally miserable and physically miserable. I woke up at 3am this morning and was spiking a temperature of 39.6, was struggling to catch my breath and then started coughing up green, bloody mucus (TMI sorry). Time for a trip to the Caredoc. I'm always concerned when I see anything green coming from a person because it usually indicates an infection of some sort. Luckily enough there was a Dr. in Cashel and she was able to see me right away. After a fairly detailed examination, she diagnosed a bronchial infection and a sinus infection, put me on a nebuliser for a bit and prescribed a course of steroids and antibiotics for a week. 

I emailed Gordon this morning to update him on what was going on and also to let him know that he was spot-on about my lungs being weak. He responded by telling me that when there is lingering grief in the body, it affects the lungs. Huge amounts of grief tends to overwhelm the lungs and manifest itself in the form of illnesses like bronchitis or even pneumonia. It was only then that I recalled the comment he had made on Friday about my lungs being weak and there being a lot of grief in my body. I began to think about my medical history and I realised that up until about 3 years ago, I had never ever suffered with any problems with my chest. In the past three years, I have had bronchitis twice, I've suffered huge issues with my chest after having operations, and I've had about 3 chest infections every year. Just some food for thought really, but something that has really made me think. Sometimes it is hard to imagine that our emotions can affect our physical well-being to such an extent, but I guess the evidence speaks for itself.

As I sat in Gordon's waiting room on Friday, feeling probably the most unsettled that I have felt in a long time, freaking out because I was forced to park my car in a way that meant I was taking up two spaces, because the two cars on either side of me had each taken up two spaces and that was the only available space. I found myself looking through the albums that Gordon has sitting on the table in his waiting room. There are three albums full of Thank You cards and pictures of the new babies that Gordon has played some part in bringing into the world. In the midst of all of those cards and beautiful pictures... I spotted a card that I had sent to Gordon (I think in 2011). It was a CHRISTMAS CARD...!!! and simply read 'Thanks for everything, have a great Christmas'. I have to say I was surprised (and that's putting it mildly). With the mindset that I was in... I found it quite difficult to see a Christmas card from me among all of those Thank You cards and new baby pictures. My initial thought was that my card doesn't belong in there.... I don't belong in there....

And... of course... me being me... I had to mention this to Gordon... (after I had managed to move my car into just one space of course, to relieve my OCD, so I could actually think about something apart from the fact that I was taking up two parking spaces...!!!) I told Gordon that it really sucks to see a Christmas card from me in there, when it should be a Thank You card with a new baby picture. Looking back now, I regret even mentioning it to him. I should have trusted him and just known that he would have put that card in there for a reason and I could have just hugged him when he told me what that reason was. He said 'Anne-Marie, that card is in there because that is your space, and that space is just waiting and ready for the day that you send me a picture of your new baby and then I will replace your Christmas card with that picture.'

It's funny how I had initially seen it so differently, it had seemed to me that it was just a huge reminder of how I just don't fit in there, when the biggest contribution I can make to an album of new babies is a Christmas card. Instead, Gordon was making sure that I truly would 'fit in'. He was making sure that there would always be a place for my baby in that album - whenever he/she finally arrives. Gordon is so certain and assured that I will have my own baby some day, and that Christmas card will be replaced with a picture of my new baby. When I think about it now (with a much clearer head), I am almost embarrassed at how it had initially seemed to me, but I can truly see now that it really is just a way of reassuring me that I will never be overlooked, and my space will be there for as long as I need it to be.... Gordon will be there on this journey with us for as long as we are on this journey.... and the day that he can replace that Christmas card with a photo of our new baby... that will be the day that I stop being concerned about 'fitting in' or being left behind... because not only will that album be 'complete'... but my world will be 'complete' too.

This House Is Too Quiet.......

I woke up at 6 this morning and my first thought was 'Yaaayyyyy, time to get ready for work' (yep, I'm really sad like that - I LOVE Monday mornings), within a split second I had realised 'Oh, its still Sunday, Yaaayyyy for that' and then..... 'Oh, its THAT Sunday!'

Mother's Day - we meet again... my arch nemesis, that has the ability to render me emotionally incapacitated, simply by just existing. On this day six years ago, I was the Mother without her baby. As the years went on... 'baby' quickly became 'babies' and I find myself laying in bed thinking about the hustle and bustle that should be going on downstairs. This house is too quiet. 

Social Media is awash with Mother's Day posts, people honouring their mothers and partners honouring their children's mother... and rightly so, Mothers are amazing. I have seen a lot of posts from people sending thoughts to those who's Mothers are no longer with them, and I can only imagine that to be as painful as what I am feeling today.  Being a parent is the hardest, but most rewarding job in the world... and in reality, one day isn't really enough.

(I think Lulu just picked up on my thoughts about the house being too quiet... coz she just ran downstairs and set off the burglar alarm...!!!)

I know I am not alone in my dislike of this day. I know that anybody who has lost a child will be feeling that today. Even those who have other children that will make a fuss of them today... there is always that feeling of 'but XXX should be here too'.  The thing is though..... I really want to love this day. I so badly want to be part of the 'Mammy Club' that I hear so many of my friends talk about. I so badly just want to hold my baby in my arms and know that nothing else in this world matters. I want to know why that has been taken from me time and time again. Ten times I have had a baby growing inside me. I've done the morning sickness and the weird cravings, I've heard the heartbeats, I've had countless scans, I've endured more than one hundred hours of active labour.... Ten times I've done this... why do I not even get to have one baby...???



I think what makes today so difficult is that I actually don't know what to do with today. I don't want to go anywhere because I don't want to put myself in a position where I am surrounded by what I am trying to avoid. Every year I tell myself that I want to change my associations with this day. I don't want to be a miserable ball of uselessness. 
When I was with Gordon on Friday, he told me 'Anne-Marie, I think maybe you just need to cry'... I think maybe he was right, because the floodgates opened before I started writing this post, and they are still flowing good and strong. Maybe this is the day that I do just get to cry... for the reasons that we all know... but also, maybe just because I need to. This is the day that I can cry my heart out and nobody will ask 'what's up?'... because everyone already knows. I don't have to explain why I'm sad today... It's just... 'because'.......

I do hope that all of the Mothers out there do have a very special day today, and I hope that all of the people who are missing their Mother today, and all of the Mothers who are missing their babies today... can find some way to just get through the day. 
For everyone that smiles today, there is somebody who is shedding a tear (or ten thousand tears, like me), Maybe some day we too will smile on Mother's day, and through our smiles - just shed one tear (or ten).

I keep reminding myself that it is just one day, and the alarm clock will go off at 6am tomorrow morning and it will be Monday morning and it will be time to get up for work.... Yaaaayyyyyyy...!!!

Fertility Olympics

I currently find myself in a mindset where I really do not want to write, but if history has taught me anything..... it's that when I find myself not wanting to write - that really is the time that I most need to write. Similarly, when I find myself not 'wanting' to go to Cork to have a session with Gordon - that is the time when I most need to go to Cork. I had an appointment with Gordon yesterday, and I found myself very reluctantly travelling to Cork. It wasn't that I didn't want to see Gordon, or that I didn't want to have acupuncture - it was that my head was in such a messed up place that I felt like I didn't want to burden him with it.  Gordon always tells me that it is the day that I do not show up for an appointment, the day that I do not have the strength to meet with him, even to just talk about what is going on..... that is the day that he will worry about me. 

So... what is going on...??? The truthful answer is that I really don't know. I am still in a lot of pain. I am pretty much going from being premenstrual, to menstruating, to ovulating and back to being premenstrual again. I am having about four days a month where I am just uncomfortable and not in really bad pain. I feel like I am just not getting a break from it and it is seriously messing with my head. My GP is referring me to a pain specialist to see if we can find a way to manage this pain until it settles down.... in about 6 to 8 cycles...!!!

The most accurate way to describe how I am currently feeling, would be 'fed up'. I'm fed up with being in pain, I'm fed up of feeling crap, I'm fed up of pregnancy announcements, I'm fed up of feeling like I'm being left behind, I'm fed up of not knowing where this journey is going to take me, I'm fed up of not being in control. I'm finding myself wanting to scream at the world... to just STOP! I want the world to stop moving forward without me. I want the whole world to stop getting pregnant until I do. (I never said my feelings were reasonable - just honest). Mostly though, I'm fed up of being fed up. 

This weekend is especially difficult for me and I so wish it wasn't, as it was my beautiful bichon, Lulu's third birthday yesterday and we got a new bichon puppy (Penny) so she will have some company. I should be loving this, it should be such an exciting time - just like when we got Lulu first, but instead I am reminded that I missed Lulu's first birthday 2 years ago because I was having surgery for yet another ectopic pregnancy, yet another baby that should be here... just... lost. Also, I'm dealing with the torture that is tomorrow. 'Mother's Day' is always horrific for me. It is the one day every year when I really just want to climb under a rock and wait for it to just pass me by. I know I have lots of predetermined 'bad days' throughout the year... days that would have been my due dates, days that I lost my babies, days when bad things happened..... but 'Mother's Day' is just a culmination of all of those 'bad days'. It is the day when all of the things that I should have, but don't have, hit me with the power of an arctic truck filled with grief and sadness and just... well... missing my babies.

Here is a pic of our new puppy...

I spoke with Gordon for quite a long time yesterday, and the one comment he kept making was that 'there is just no spark anymore'. He kept telling me that I need to find something, anything to relight that spark in my life. Everything I have been through has completely drained me of any spark of happiness and he said that I need to make it my mission to find some way to see the positives in things. He also told me that we need to find that spark long before we even consider going to the Czech Republic for more treatment. 

Gordon did give me some amazing advice yesterday. He told me that I need to stop looking at the processes that I need to go through on this journey, as a group of individual battles that I must fight with everything that I have to conquer each one as I encounter them. He told me that I need to look at this whole journey as my 'Fertility Olympics', and I need to view the entire process in the same manner that an athlete views the actual Olympics. It is not just about putting everything into the four weeks that you are actually 'competing', it is more about the build-up, the preparations, the four years immediately previous to the Olympics, and all of the minor 'competitions' that you must conquer on the road to the Olympics. 
My 'Fertility Olympics' will take place in the Czech Republic in 2015, so I need to put everything that I have into making sure that I am in the best place possible within myself, and that my body is in the best condition possible to give our last chance at this, the best chance possible at being successful.

I know this is amazing advice and I know that I will so embrace that and take that completely onboard, as soon as my head is in a better place. In order to help to get my head in a better place, Gordon has asked me to do one thing - He said that because having a baby is my ultimate goal in life, and that is not an option in the immediate future - he has asked me to find something in life that I want to do... something that is just for me, not for Patrick, or for work, or for my family or friends, or for Lulu, or for anybody.... something that is just for me.

To be completely honest..... my response was: "I don't think there is anything", but I will certainly make a genuine attempt at finding something.

Right now, all I want to do is curl up and get through this weekend.......

Happiness Is...

It's unusual for me to draft a blog post. I usually just start writing and see what comes out.
Recently (ever since my last post), I've been thinking a lot about 'happiness' and what it would take to just be happy. I found myself making notes of the different thoughts that I was having, with a view to writing about them. 

I drafted that post over a few days, was happy with how it was looking and then... then I decided not to post it. I had logged on to Gordon's website and saw that his latest post was entitled 'Fertility and Happiness', and to his credit - this is the most amazing post he has ever written. This post made me stop and think. I felt that he had put things so clearly and so beautifully, and while there were quite a few similarities between that and what I had drafted, his words were flowing in a way that mine weren't. His writing carried you along on a weightless wave of pursuit until you can find a way to arrive at the destination that is 'Happiness'. That was very calming and settling for me to read and I genuinely felt that the topic had been accomplished and anything else that could be said about it would only serve to take from the beauty of Gordon's post.

I emailed Gordon to congratulate him on a fantastic blogpost and to let him know that I was so proud of what he had written that I would not be posting about the same topic. He responded telling me that he feels that it is important for me to post my thoughts on 'happiness', and he thinks it would be quite interesting to actually look at 'happiness and fertility' from two different angles.... so here goes...

Over the past 5 years there have been many times of uncertainty, many times where I have felt completely in Limbo, not knowing what path I was going to take or even what step to take next. 
I remember emailing Gordon (yes, I email him a lot!) during one of those times. It was just after we had gotten Patrick's sperm re-analysed and had been told that he has 100% anti-sperm antibodies. I was going through a really bad time with all of this and even though we still had 2 embryos from the original cycle in cyropreservation, I wasn't in a place where I could even think about going back to the fertility clinic for yet another cycle. (To give you some perspective... the cycle immediately previous to this one - resulted in the whole Ectopic Pregnancy - Emergency Surgery - Chemotherapy situation) I was going back and forth in my head for weeks, I could not make a decision. I would think that I wanted to go back for another cycle and then I would be struck by the paralysing fear of something similar happening again. This went on for weeks and weeks and eventually I emailed Gordon on a Friday to tell him that I was taking the whole weekend to figure this all out and I would force myself to have a decision made by the following Monday. I received an email from Gordon that Monday, simply asking 'Decision Made?'. I responded with ' I don't know what I am going to do, but I have decided that I just want to be happy'. He asked what is it going to take to make me happy?, to which I responded 'having a healthy baby' and therein the decision was made and it was an easy decision to make. When you can see the finish line and the prize that lies immediately beyond that line... the process to get there doesn't seem so daunting. I went through that process, I went through that whole cycle... knowing that even though I was really struggling from day to day, every day was one day closer to achieving 'happiness'. Unfortunately, that didn't quite work out as planned and what has transpired since then has made the achievement of 'happiness' seem almost unattainable.

I've been thinking lately about how much our fertility journey has impacted on our whole lives, and really, I suppose - how we haven't really had 'lives' since this journey started. It completely takes over. When I think back to when Patrick and I first got together. I was still at University and gosh, did we have a lot of fun. My friends from University still talk about the crazy nights out we all had (almost every week) and how I was so vibrant, so much fun, a party animal of sorts and the things we got up to... well.... lets just say there were many, many memories made :-) Patrick and I got engaged when I was still at University and married the following year. I had always known that I wanted to get married and start a family while I was still young, and in my head.... I had it all. By the time I was 25, I was married, we'd had our house built and had moved in, I had opened my own business which is running successfully to this day, We still met regularly with my friends from University and continued to make fun memories.... Life was as close to perfect as I thought it ever could be... so it was the perfect time to start a family..... and that is where life stopped for us.

Life became so meticulously timetabled, there was no room for spontaneity - no room for fun and definitely no happiness. Everything became about my cycles and what was to be expected on each day of each cycle. It became about a lot of worrying and anxiety if things didn't fully go as scheduled.  Everything became about being home at a certain time to take injections. We couldn't make plans. Nights out have been pretty non-existent, even the consumption of alcohol has pretty much become a bi-annual thing. (Yes... I am having alcohol pretty much just twice a year since this began).
My friends from University will call every so often to try and arrange for us all to get together and nine times out of ten, I have had to say 'I'm sorry, I can't go'. I'll either be having some surgery or procedure of some kind, or recovering from that... or taking hormones that are making me too ill, or in too much pain to travel, or just so fed up with my own pathetic existence that I don't feel like being around people. 
We have been on some pretty fantastic holidays in the past few years, but even those have not been to enjoy ourselves.... they have been to get away... they have been because I couldn't stand to be at home on the dates that my babies would have been due... and while it doesn't make the dates any less significant... I wanted to create good memories to have of those days to go along with the otherwise heartbreaking associations.

I remember on my very first visit to Gordon's clinic, he told me of the importance of having fun, of enjoying myself. He said just one hour of real fun and enjoyment per week is enough to make a huge difference. That sounded like such an easy task at the time.... surely everybody manages at least an hour of fun every week..... but even that became too much to ask. While you are going through an IVF cycle, you are afraid to do anything, because you are afraid that anything that you do will affect the outcome of the cycle. You constantly question and second-guess yourself. I didn't allow myself to drink coffee, or eat chocolate, or run, or dance, or walk too fast. It even affected the clothes that I wore... because what if the waistband of that skirt or trousers might be a tad tight and might cause the embryos not to attach. I remember suffering with migraines for weeks and weeks and just putting up with them because I was too afraid to even take paracetamol. You live in fear.... and in turn... when things inevitably did go wrong, It was so easy to look back and think 'Oh, I shouldn't have run to answer the phone that time..... Or I should have drank more water... or maybe it was the time I was a minute and a half late taking that hormone injection'.

Everything that we have been through has sucked the fun and enjoyment from our lives. I don't know what it is to be 'happy' anymore. Sure, we have many fleeting moments of contentment, but that is not enough. I guess I thought that we would be able to inject some 'happiness' into our lives during our current 'break from all things fertility' and perhaps we will be able to, but I am still suffering so bad from my last surgery. I am uncomfortable all the time, the really bad intense pain does not occur as often as it was doing, but while I thought I would be pain free by this stage... its looking like a long road ahead to getting to that point, if I ever get to a point of being pain free. 
Sure, we have plans. We are going to Dublin for a weekend in the coming weeks, something we have had booked since last October... and while I am so looking forward to it, even a weekend away comes with an arm-long list of restrictions. I can't do this, I can't do that, that will be too far to walk, I won't be able to spend that long sitting down... etc... etc... 

Gosh, how I wish I was able to just let my hair down, to have a good time and not have to worry about the damage I am doing to myself or how it will affect things in the future. How I wish I could just be ME.

When I think of who 'ME' is.... I think of the vibrant, sparkly, feisty young woman who was forever on the stage, always singing and dancing, always involved in productions, always doing 'something'. I think of the young woman bouncing around, exuding 'happiness', so bubbly that she gives everyone she meets an emotional 'lift' with no effort, just by being herself. I think of the young woman who would always be the life and soul of any party.... and now, I think of what I have become.

Certainly, I can be any one or all of those things.... but only with effort... only by consciously suppressing how I am really feeling and putting that front up to the world.

I don't know if I will ever return to that version of 'ME', but perhaps there is a way to figure out who the current 'ME' is and to come to terms with that in a way that is acceptable to me. Unfortunately, the quest for the achievement of 'happiness' is still one that eludes me, as I genuinely believe that I will never truly be happy until I am holding my baby in my arms... the likelihood of that actually happening is anybody's guess right now and therefore I feel that I must stop trying to find 'happiness' for now, but more find a way to accept myself in the place that I currently find myself.

One thing I am happy about though is that I am finding myself no longer trying to sugar-coat how I am feeling. I feel that even my writing has changed and I am a lot more candid and true to how I am really feeling now. This journey was never going to be all rainbows and butterflies, but instead of some rainbows and butterflies... well, we are left with no rainbows or butterflies... and in many ways I have come to terms with the fact that there are lots of things that are going to upset me or that will bring to mind upsetting memories, and while I do not want anyone to feel like they have to walk on eggshells around me for fear of upsetting me, I have to accept that all of these things are part of me and part of who I am.

Sometimes it strikes me as quite strange at how raw things can feel to me, even though this has been going on for so many years. I wanted to share a story with you about something that happened yesterday. I was chatting online with some of my closest friends from the UK, it was quite a lighthearted conversation with lots of joking and laughing going on. I was vaguely conscious all the time that yesterday was one of those 'significant dates' for me, but felt like I was doing pretty well and was managing not to dwell on it. The conversation somehow came around to the subject of 'ugly babies' (looking back, it was a humorous conversation... kinda like the Father Ted 'Hairy Baby' skit). The three other members of the conversation all seemed to be finding this quite funny, but it sent me into total meltdown. With the mindset that I was in, I just could not see how they could think that it could ever be okay to call any baby 'ugly', nor could I understand how they could ever think that this could be funny. In my head, all I could think of was about the babies that I have lost and how every baby I see is the most beautiful baby that I have ever seen. I found myself thinking 'How dare they say that about anybody's baby, they don't know what that person might have gone through to have that baby and they think it is ok to say that the child is 'ugly' '. I got soooooo mad with them. (Anybody who knows me knows that I do not get mad very often, but gosh... when I do... its best to run fast and run far coz it ain't gona be pretty). At that point, I was completely beyond any reasonable level of communication or comprehension that they were in fact just kidding around and would never actually refer to or even think of any baby as being 'ugly'. I spent about 30 minutes being mad... and about 4 hours feeling embarrassed at how I had reacted. I am thankful that these people are actually friends of mine and have some understanding of why I reacted in the way that I did, but it just drives the point home to me that I am still very unsettled and not at all 'myself'... and still very much 'recovering'.

So..... Happiness is..... well, I have absolutely no idea..... but I know this is not it...!!!