The postman has ruined my Monday - I had to write.

So it has been a little over 2 weeks since the world seemed to stop spinning and the news was confirmed that this was not our time. 2 weeks, it seems like its been the longest drawn out 14+ days in existence, this I am struggling with. See I have been here before, I have dealt with it before, more than once. But I am not going to lie, this is hard. I am not sure if it is still a surge of all those hormones going through me, having no purpose at the moment or its just that this time, I really, hoped, wished and wanted it to be our time.

I guess this is why I am writing. As I have said before, it helps. It helped me all through our journey and it is already helping now. Its been a shit couple of weeks, for various reasons, and about half an hour ago, the postman popped a letter through the letter box and there in black and white, the word FAILED! Its knocked me back a bit. I am not sure if it is because it made it all final, definite, not that I was ever hoping for a different outcome, I am not a complete moron.  I skimmed it, I couldn't bring my self to read the endless list of drugs I pumped inside me for nothing but sadness and I couldn't even look at The Beard because I am trying so hard to stay strong and not break. But it has definitely made me feel, hot, sick and very sad. Sitting here typing this with an anger that not even my face would hide and blurry tear filled eyes, that I am determined not to spill.

A little over a week ago, I decided I didn't want to give up. I knew The Beard didn't but I also knew he was waiting, biding his time, to allow me to make that decision in my head and say it out loud. Turned out my wonderful Daddy was the saviour of my fragile mind and made me see sense. He came over and sat with us one evening, shortly after it all went wrong, soon as he walked in the door I gave him a big hug and held back my tears. I adore my dad, he is crazy, funny, a beautiful head of white hair, older than most fathers of daughters of my age, but that just means he has more stories to tell.  I love his hair but find annoying as I have been covering greys since I was 17 and he has the best stories always to tell. This evening he told us a story about how he had been chatting to his next door neighbour. he we go, I thought, but it turned out he had been talking to him about us. His next door neighbour happened to be the medical director at our clinic, he was discussing our case and filling him in on how it had not worked. Dad urged me, when ready, if we go back, to ask for him, and he would see us. I thought it was just a sweet thing to say, but 2 days later when booking our follow up appointment, the nurse asked me who I wanted to see. Now I never really felt a connection with our previous consultant, in fact she scared me to death, so I read out his name, waiting for a laugh and was so surprised when she said 'He will see you'. Suddenly I felt OK. I felt I could go back to the clinic, I could face it and together with The Beard, I think I would be OK. SO Thanks Pops, you probably do not realise just how much that little story and visit helped me feel it could all be OK and I could get over this. I called to tell him straight away, as always, he was out on a jolly but his wonderful partner told me it would be OK and she was pleased and After both conversations, i really felt like i turned a corner.

We have spoken about having another go. The only stumbling block this time is the funds. Expensive business this IVF malarkey I tell you. But I am willing to sell The Beards Kidneys to make this happen (I obviously need mine to house a baby) and I am sure one way or another, we can find away. Ideally i want to have a go sooner rather than later, I fear that if I get settled, find a new job, get Me back, I would then have to break it all down again, knowing how hard I  was affected by it all. it petrifies me to go through all that again, and right now, i think I am in a position to relax, give it my all, operation MEGA and BABYLEEKE is just out there waiting for me to grab by the balls. I  have given myself 3 years, I was always told I would be the age my mother was when she had me, so I  have till I am 39. Then Who knows but till then, I am not going to stop trying, hopefully I will stop crying, and I hope that soon I can be the old me again.

Thank you to all of you with your continuing messages of support, I can not explain how much they really do help. I have spent a wonderful Halloween weekend with The Beard in a caravan, being stupid and playing Nerf gun hide and seek, which was all wonderful, but i also missed being out with my girls, after all Halloween is our annual thing, but I will get there. Right now, being in my happy, comfortable place is my thing, but It doesn't mean I am boring, OK it may, and i still love you all.

A Desperate Mummy to Be xxxxxx