The Process Begins

Funnily I have struggled to write since my last post. The mean reds really took me over lol. Bastards. I have been processing a lot, and exploring my choices, and setting my own value. That is probably the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

What I mean by setting my own value is making choices that might hurt myself (because they hurt others) and others but that clearly establish for myself, my own worth. My entire life I have given to others, not always selflessly but more often than not it has been. I haven’t expected much back. And that ‘worked’ for me for years. More recently though, like the last twelve months, I have found myself moving towards expecting more from others, especially those I am or have been closest to. I have thought that I am worth their attention, or their support, or their help, even if I still don’t always ask for it.

It is amazing how many people and how many relationships have struggled from that. And it is amazing how much of a bitch I regard myself as I fight for what I believe I deserve. As much as it is difficult, I feel more than okay to be by myself. I know there are a couple of people in my life that I can rely on and that I trust, and then there are many, many more who offer, honestly, to be there.

And I wonder if I needed to learn this before I set forth on my baby journey again. Even though I still grapple with certain situations and forcing myself to value myself in those situations, for the most part I have become stronger at saying no when I need to and asking for what I need.

My bleeding finally stopped.

I have always said that if I say I am never going to do something, I invariably end up doing it. For decades I have vowed I would never use the pill. The pill stopped my bleeding.

Yep.

This is who I am. Lol.

I am still waiting for it to start but so far it hasn’t and it’s been just under two weeks.

I took the pill for two reasons: to stop my bleeding and so that the fertility clinic can control this next cycle more overtly.

Tonight is my first Lucrin injection. This injection suppresses my normal cycle (whatever that is anymore after 84 days of bleeding). It sets my body up to be controlled by the drugs that will follow, that will hopefully result in a healthy and live birth about eleven months from now. I take the Lucrin and remain on the pill until the 29th August (today is the 23rd). After that I take only the Lucrin until the 3rd September. On the 3rd I have a blood test and my first internal scan to ascertain where my cycle is at, to ensure that the Lucrin has done its job. My life is about to become regimented by injections, blood tests and scans. The injections need to be taken at the same times every day. This means that this is now my priority until I either conceive or don’t. At this point, we are hoping to retrieve my eggs around the 17th September and then transfer the embryos (God willing there are some) on the 20th.

That’s the technical side. I am lucky that I love needles; I love the injections. Lucky too, because there is no one else to do them for me lol.

I picked up my Lucrin injections last Tuesday. It was the first time since starting this journey five years ago, that I drove home excited, barely able to contain myself. It was refreshing.

On Thursday last, I had to have a session with the clinic’s counsellor. I did this over the phone. Linda was lovely. I needed to be updated on the Donor Conception Legislation. More rights for the child; it is good legislation. Throughout the discussion though, I was put into the position of making decisions for my child and at that point, I was happy to transfer myself into the role of mother. After all, I have wanted that for so long now. But towards the end of the conversation, it dawned on me that I am not pregnant and there is a very real chance that I will not be. And I felt overwhelmed by that.

I am still processing it. Thank God for Lauren and Tash who cried with me in the staffroom, as I sat there almost numb.

Such a difficult journey. But I am positive. At least I have tried. There will be no regrets.

The Mean Reds

And haven’t I got them today. I woke up in the middle of the night angry as I haven’t been in a very long time. I have felt frustrated all of last week. My trigger last week, well the thing I can remember reacting to most vehemently in my core, was people around me being the ‘victim’ in their life stories rather than picking up and moving on. I am sure that resulted, in part, in the worst migraine I had had in a fair few weeks. The rest of it is not letting myself cry that I miscarried. Not letting myself feel the anger, the injustice. And trying not to get angry, all over again, at the people who I thought were closest to me, letting me bleed for two days on my own. And then when I spoke to them about it, them blaming me for that or saying they had their own stuff to deal with. I am so angry that I have forgiven them. So angry that I didn’t make them suffer. So angry for being me.

And the victims. I had been thinking that they really need to focus on what they do have in life and celebrate that. If only I could find some of that gratitude today. A full on ego day for me. I have scrubbed my house in the hopes of venting it productively but it has not helped. Whilst I was washing up I thought maybe I was angry at the victims because I don’t permit myself that very often. I’m all like, life is good, people can be forgiven, don’t let your ego rule your decisions, and I fear that today that has resulted in what Holly Golightly referred to as the mean reds.

But being a victim, for a short period of time, is basically saying that you know you deserved better than whatever treatment had been levelled your way. And I have realised that I am angry at me, with me, because of who I am. I am angry that I do not believe, conveyed through my actions, that I deserve better, that I am worth more. Worth more than my friends and family treated me. I am so angry about my birthday this year. So angry that if it hadn’t been for one sister and two friends, I would have damaged myself psychologically more than I did. So so angry that no-one ever thinks about me or plans stuff for me or makes me feel like I am important. I am the go to person. If we need help, advice, or a shoulder we contact Tina. She will know what to do, she will make us feel better, Tina will fix it.

Yes the mean reds. And no end in sight. I know I need to cry. But I push those tears back. Scared that if they start there will be no end to them.

This is part of my process. Someone said this morning that they perceived I have a full circle of support. I told them it was their perception and their perception alone. Someone else, who doesn’t even know me, then said that everyone has support. And I became angry, wanting to shout, how in hell can you say that for everyone, you don’t know me, you don’t know my life story, and yes, I became a victim. But rather than expressing that, I left the conversation  because who am I to make someone who was trying to be nice, feel yuck. How dare I. But how many people visit their shit on me and then walk away. How many people have always done that.

The last eight months have shown me, that for the most part, I live my life alone. Sometimes by choice because I am terrified that if I trust anyone they will break it, and that has happened too many times throughout my life that I am completely damaged now. So many broken promises have left me dry and unable to give anymore.

Yes, the mean reds. A violent, bloody red. Massacred souls screaming from deep within because no one chooses to hear.