It was 5 years ago this summer that I first got really broody. We had taken our youth group camping, to Soul Survivor. As youthworkers we'd always imagined youthwork and babies as fairly incompatible but at this camp, for the first time, I saw people just like me with babies. And still doing youthwork. And still camping. The latter was not so exciting, but the possibility that our lifestyle might still work with a baby or two got me very excited.
So we started 'trying'. (Such an awful term. As if you just sit there in a state of 'zen', imagining yourself pregnant until it becomes a reality) We prayed about it but didn't tell anyone, as we imagined the first time we'd need to talk about this would be to announce good news. I looked at all the stats: each cycle you have a 25% chance of getting pregnant; most couples will conceive within 6 months; 90% will conceive within 1 year. I was torn between "I can't wait" and "I actually hope I don't get pregnant before my big sister!"
My cycles were long and we didn't know many of the details (ovulation predictor kits, cycle length and its effect etc.) that we know now. And we took a month off every now and then, so as not to have a baby at a particularly busy time of the ministry year. Looking back, taking a month 'off' seems laughable, as it's so unlikely we would have conceived anyway.
After 18 months of heartache, we told more people and went to the doctor about our struggles. He didn't seem too troubled by our infertility (technically, if you don't conceive after 1 year, you're classed as infertile, but it doesn't mean you can't possibly have kids) but he sent us off for tests. Hubbie is fine, for which we are very thankful. But several tests later (one of which was particularly horrid and felt like being blown up like a balloon) I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovaries. My GP put me on Metformin, which is supposed to help regulate insulin, and sent me to the Gynaecologist. At this point we were thinking, Great, now we know the problem, we can fix it.
Fast forward 6-9 months and we eventually get to see the Gyn. He asks me if I want IVF. Straight out. I think I was 26 at this point. The wonderful system says, let's not do more investigations, let's not try to level out these hormones, let's take all the hope of doing this naturally away. I think the doctors just want as much control as possible. When I said no (at least, 'not yet') to IVF, he then offered IUI - if you're not sure what IUI is, you can look it up, but it's delicately nicknamed 'turkey-basting'. We did not get on well with that and actually really disliked the clinic. Everyone there was lovely - great nurses - but the place has a strangeness that it's hard to pinpoint.
Back we go to the Gyn. For a while, I'd been wondering why he hadn't prescribed me Clomid, which is meant to boost ovulation, especially in women with PCOS. He'd dismissed it at our first appointment, but finally after a bit of pushing from hubbie and a lot of crying from me (!) he prescribed it. I'm a Clomid baby, so I was hopeful that this would help us.
Well, it did - 3 cycles into Clomid, we got pregnant. Ah, 3 weeks of joy and hope after 3 and 1/2 years of disappointment. But at our 8 week scan we were told that the foetus hadn't developed (called a 'Blighted Ovum') and we had had a 'missed miscarriage'. 3 weeks later I physically miscarried. Totally devastating. A year later and it still makes me well up every time I think about it.
Since then we've had 9 more months of Clomid, with no discernible effect. And a couple of weeks ago the Gyn told us we couldn't have any more, but that the next stage might be to have FSH injections, which 'force' ovulation. Sounds lovely.
Right now, I'm investigating 'ttcn' (trying to conceive naturally) which is basically about getting your body into the best state possible for having a baby. For the moment, we just want to carry on trying naturally rather than move onto more invasive approaches - partly because every time we see the Gyn, he says, "There's no reason why you shouldn't get pregnant." Which is encouraging. And highly frustrating!
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