Despicable me

My period arrived yesterday, painlessly and with minimal fuss (fannyfare?). Even though it’s not a proper period, it’s nice to feel normal again, with no drugs in my system except folic acid and no meds schedule to adhere to.

I talk to Doctor O next week but suspect he’ll say the failed transfer was just one of those things and to proceed as planned with another frozen transfer. I will ask about tests though. I’m happy to start again at the end of November if that’s what they recommend.

I had a “woe is me” episode of bitterness on Saturday night. I was out for dinner with two friends, both 37, one of whom is trying for her second child, having gotten pregnant pretty much after her honeymoon four years ago, and one of whom is on maternity leave with her first baby, having gotten married two years ago.

These two are among the (majority of) friends I haven’t told about my plan to become a single mother by choice. Not because they wouldn’t agree with it but just because I didn’t want a horde of people asking me every 10 seconds how things were going. I’m really glad about this decision, particularly as I didn’t foresee still not being pregnant a whole year later.

Sometimes this approach backfires on you though, as on Saturday night, two days after my first negative home test and two days before my official hCG blood test.

My friend who is trying for her second revealed that she is having to inject fertility meds, as her hormone levels are low and she rarely ovulates. The details were a bit sketchy and I didn’t want to pry (or to appear too knowledgeable about the variety of fertility meds on the market…). She can’t face injecting herself and went on about how “gigantic” the needles are and how her husband has to chase her around the room to jab her. I feel bad about their fertility problems but was still thinking tetchily, “If you had to do it yourself, you would.” I was also internally rolling my eyes when, at the end of the evening, she rang him to make sure he was ready to inject her when she got home. I know this is unfair. If I had a man in my life, I would probably still choose to inject myself, but I know a lot of women prefer not to. I’m not proud of this reaction. It’s also not her fault I haven’t told them about trying to conceive. So my bad on that score. I still kind of wanted to punch her in the face, though.

We also had a farcical situation whereby the (useless) waitress gave us all green tea, instead of mint. I only noticed the mistake half-way through the pot. My friend brought it to the waitress’s attention, pointing out that caffeine gives her heart palpitations. Meanwhile, I was silently panicking and berating myself for drinking a half pot of heavily stewed green tea during my two week wait when I was trying to avoid caffeine.

Then, as we all said goodbye at the end of the evening, my other friend launched into a rant about a friend of hers with psychological problems who is attempting to get pregnant at 46 with her new husband. “Whatever about her mental state, it’s madness trying for a child after 40, what with the Down’s Syndrome risk and all the other possible complications. Selfish!” I stood there open-mouthed and took my leave before I got upset, thinking, “She does know I would like kids and remembers coming to my 40th birthday party this year, right?” I definitely wanted to punch her in the face.

I was totally crushed on the way home, more upset than on the following Monday, when I got the negative hCG result. And I felt like a two-faced, malevolent shadow for much of the dinner, not nice.

Probably, it was actually the imminent negative result that was really getting me down. And perhaps the culmination of several months of hormones too. As I say, I’m not proud of my reactions. If they had known about my plans, they most likely would have been very supportive. I can’t expect people to second-guess what’s going on with me. And the friends who do know are brilliant about it.

I’m usually fine with doing this stuff by myself and, God knows, if I do manage to have a baby on my own, there will probably be negative comments from some quarters that will make me laugh about getting upset at such innocuous remarks. And much greater mountains to climb. The episode does make me wonder how many ttc’ers I have unwittingly crushed with thoughtless comments over the years. Asking them all for forgiveness through the ether.

We’re allowed the odd episode of feeling sorry for ourselves, no? As long as it doesn’t turn into a whole season. I feel better now, having unloaded, and will move on.

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This entry was posted in biological clock, choice mom, donor insemination, fertility clinic, pregnancy, single mom, single mother by choice, single motherhood, single mum, solo mom, sperm donor, trying to conceive, ttc and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Despicable me

  1. I’m so sorry to hear this outcome… And yes–you are definitely allowed to feel sorry for yourself. But YOU are not the despicable one, my dear, it’s the process. But a necessary road to your sweet baby. So hang in there. And don’t begrudge your friends too much…those comments are really hard to take but they are unaware of your plans and into their own struggles. They’ll be so amazed and proud of you when they learn that you gave yourself all those injections. Hope you get a good break full of coffee and booze before your next cycle. Big hugs.

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