Time to pull out the big guns
Big guns = IVF
That’s the message I got when I returned to the doctor after my three months of trying with no ‘luck’ (man I have grown to hate that word!)
The doctor said due to my age and relative lack of issues (yep – that’s what he thought at this stage) that we should have success ‘cutting out the middle man’ and heading to IVF.
I was actually excited by the prospect, but concerned that my husband would not. The whole way home I thought about how to tell him the news and get him to agree. I felt like I would need to sell the idea, to convince him this was what we needed to do. Each step of the way so far, I had been so much more emotionally vested in the process. I was not sure my husband felt strongly enough about the need to get pregnant to be prepared to turn to IVF.
These concerns turned out to be unwaranted. As soon as I told him what the doctor said, he immediately agreed to go to IVF. No convincing/begging/crying necessary! It was at this point that I realised he was now at the point where he was wanting it as much as me.
At this point, though, I did first start to harbour some resentment about the whole process. Why should we have to go through the emotional, physical and financial stress to have a baby when so many other women found it so easy? Was I any less deserving than them? I knew I would be a good mother. I was ready to be a good mother. And in my job – I meet plenty of not-so-good mothers. I started to develop a pretty severe case of the ‘why me’s?’
So, anyway, we had our appointment at the IVF clinic, found out the information – and the cost (yikes!) and prepared to start IVF with my next cycle. I came to terms with that fact that this would just have to be the process I would go through to have my baby, and that was OK.
I was nervous, excited and my sense of hope and confidence had well and truly been reignited. I fully believed that I would be successful first cycle. My luck was surely about to change.