New Year has always been a very special time for me. A time for reflection, and planning. A time to take stock and evaluate how I’m doing and what I could do better.
Now that Christmas is subsiding and our days are spent lounging around at home indulging in too much food, drink and TV, there is a heavy weight on my mind.
But, before that, my miscarriage. It still hasn’t happened. I’m still waiting to pass the gestational sac. I had some very, very faint contractions this morning, and a few last night in bed, but aside from effectively a light period bleed, nothing else. I’m hoping it’s not going to be too much longer, but my body always has such trouble letting go of these lost babies. I wanted to start the New Year with all this in the past, but as the days slip by it’s looking less likely.
But, trying to move on…
DH and I have talked a lot over the last couple of days about everything and the subject of IVF has come up again. We will have been trying three years on our own in April. Three years that I have been in stasis… waiting, waiting, waiting for my life to feel complete. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the family I always thought I was supposed to have.
I’ve been mentally better this year, 2014, than I was in 2013. My depression was quite severe back then (probably combined with likely post traumatic stress on almost losing my life during a very bad miscarriage), and I was crying pretty much every day. Now, I’m functioning like a “normal” human for the most part, but I cannot motivate myself to fully move on while I am still expending so much energy thinking about HOW I can have this baby I’ve been trying to have for so long.
I want to get past this, but I know that the only way I can get past this “easily” is to just bloody well have another baby. Anything else is going to take years of grief, loss, bitterness and finally (hopefully), acceptance before I can focus on life outside of this TTC prison.
Which has brought us back to IVF. Somehow (rightly or more probably, wrongly), it gives the comfort of doing something.
I want this baby so much. It’s like a hole in my heart and a dark place in the corner of my life that no light can touch.
Twice I have tried to walk away, with brief success, but never have I let go of the dream. Would I ever even be able to?
There are two clinics that we could travel to.
I looked at the live birth rate, which is given for the 40-42 age group for IVF (2012):
Clinic 1: 10 live births, out of 67 cycles. 122 embryos transferred in total.
Clinic 2: 0 live births, out of 26 cycles. 48 embryos transferred in total.
So, 14.9% success at clinic 1, and a big fat ZERO % success for IVF (for 40-42 year olds) at clinic 2.
The cost of this, is in the region of £5,000 – £6,000. The price of a decent car. Or four great family holidays. Or more than half a (desperately needed) new kitchen. For a one in seven chance of having a baby (and that’s at the better clinic of the two).
DH and I agreed that if it worked we wouldn’t begrudge a single penny of that money.
But if it didn’t…
But on the other hand, I don’t want to spend another year like this. Waiting, hoping, miscarrying. Finding myself at the same point for the third Christmas in a row at the end of it.
We were supposed to be done by now. We were supposed to be finished with all this crazy trying to get and stay pregnant bullish*t.
What are we going to do?
I hate not having a plan, I hate not being in control, I hate how this has panned out over the last few years.
I suppose the thing that frightens me the most, the main reason I haven’t been able to contemplate IVF seriously, is that I am terrified they will transfer a great looking egg, and I will lose it anyway in the first trimester because all of my eggs are just so crap and I am just too old and too worn out.