Tis NOT the season to be jolly

If any season brings home the feeling of emptiness, its Christmas time. For every woman and couple who’ve failed to conceive this year, tis NOT the season to be jolly. Tis not the season for rejoicing.


Why? We’ll be forced to listen to the angelic voices of children singing, watch parents and children open gifts and brave the shopping centres filled with prams. Everywhere we turn, children are at heart and this only emphasizes our childlessness.

But this year I survived Christmas. My best survival yet in fact! I listened to those children sing Christmas carols, watched my nephew open his gifts with a smile and survived the shopping centres. My outlook has been altered this year and I’m glad I got to enjoy Christmas without feeling too empty.

As the New Year approaches and I reflect on the year that was 2010, I’m feeling OK. We’ve spent the better part of our year trying to conceive and got nowhere. Sure I’ve achieved some great things this year personally but my biggest dream and goal are yet to be reached.

The New Year brings new beginnings and a new hope. A hope this time next year we’ll be pregnant and this will be the last childless Christmas.

Understanding our story

DH and I made the decision early in this TTC journey to be open and honest about our issues and what we are going through. We had nothing to be ashamed of after all. What we didn’t expect was for our journey to be a topic of conversation whenever we are guests at a social event. Friends and family are not afraid to ask questions or provide advice. (Because let’s face it; everyone has a story, everyone has advice and everyone thinks it’s ok to tell us what we should be doing).

This took some getting use too. Our parents didn’t bring us up to talk about sex, sperm and vaginas at the dinner table. However people are interested in our story so we answer those personal questions as best we can.

Typing my feelings into this blog each month soothes my anger and sadness. I have no idea if we’ll ever be blessed with children or if everything will continue to be a disappointment. What I do know is I want to be able to help others understand infertility.

It ain’t easy living in a society where family is everything. My husband and I are confronted EVERY SINGLE DAY with our inability to have children; whether it’s a Fisher and Price ad on TV, seeing a pregnant woman in the street or the Kindergarten centre across the road from our apartment. All of it has some kind of impact on us as individuals and as a couple.

Instead of preparing for parenthood and buying cute outfits, cots, prams and car seats, DH and I are forced to either save for our next IVF cycle
or pay off the last failed cycle. Instead of turning our spare room into a nursery, DH and I are forced to keep the door shut so it’s not a constant reminder.

We’ve spent over $30,000 on assisted conception and still there is no hint of a stork visiting us anytime soon.

All we want is a family of our very own. Hard for us and easy for others.

Sit and exist

Space. To fill it or find it?

I just finished reading an article about a columnist wanting to find space in her life. Space to reflect on phone calls, emails and even meditation. The columnist talks about people in her life who schedule 15 minutes in their diary after each appointment in order to sit back and reflect on what just happened. This provides space to reflect and decide what your next move.

Space is easy to create though right? I find it incredibly easy however my lifestyle is pretty streamlined. I don’t go to a gym; I enjoy walking my dog instead. I catch the bus to work; this provides me precious reading time. I don’t play competitive sports; instead I enjoy attending the odd yoga session. I’m a bit of a homebody really. I have a lot of time on my hands and this creates a lot of space in my life. Space to reflect. Space to exist. And space to research our next fertility move.

Surely some people would disagree that finding space is easy. Once you’ve got space, it’s a challenge to not fill it with wasted opportunities. I know plenty of people who waste space once they’ve got it. My husband is one of those people. His diary scares me. His days are full of appointments, phone calls, footy training, gym sessions. The poor man never has time to just sit and exist. I’ve sometimes forced him into cancelling engagements so he can relax at home. But my husband was born with ants in his pants. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word relax (unless it involves two weeks holiday and a pina colada). This has created many an argument between us. He thinks I don’t do enough and I think he does too much. It’s tough trying to find a space we can exist and be happy in. Together.

And then a moment is shared. It’s Sunday morning and we decide to grab a coffee and bacon and egg roll before walking along the beach with our pooch. We sit on park bench and fill our space with the smells of coffee, salty air and listen to the waves crashing. It’s our 15 minutes of unspoken bliss. Our spaces cross paths as we sit and exist.