I don’t want you to go to school either darls!

So my twins have started ‘big’ school…when they look anything but big!  I’m always saying “what a big boy” and “you’re such a big girl”, but when you put a school uniform on them, even the tiniest possible size, they seem to shrink back down to being your tiny little ones again.  My little girl Anya is swamped by her cardigan, even she says it’s “stupid”, she seems too tiny to be wearing a school uniform.

For me this time the heartbreak has been huge.  Saying goodbye to such a busy and all consuming chapter in my life and waving off my precious babies to the next stage in their exciting lives.  It’s hit me hard and especially when Anya has cried and screamed every day, in fact kicked the teacher twice!  I can’t believe they are four and a half, can’t believe my tiny 2lb miracles are now ready for school at all!  I just want to hold them a little longer, extend this chapter and I suppose feel them in my arms needing me like they used to.

I was no different when Zac started school and I can’t believe he’s now in year 5.  I felt like I was handing my baby over the state and I was losing him.  I was heartbroken but unlike Anya, he never looked back and took to it like a duck to water, which perhaps made it worse.  I wanted him to miss me and need me!

And yet, that pain was different.  I was determined not to make a big deal of the huge milestone my twins going to school was given their prematurity and bumpy start to life because right now, four and half years on, we are a normal family, they are happy healthy kids and I am just like any other mummy who’s kid is starting school.  I avoided the reference to their start and it felt nice to be like a ‘normal’ mummy for once.

What I did feel was that my pain was wholly different to that of those mummies whose first born was starting and who were desperate for another child to fill that void.  Whose ‘baby’ was flying and leaving an empty nest when their mummy was desperate and unable to fill the vacancy.  Who had watched every milestone and month pass by hoping to conceive at least, never mind give birth, by September so they didn’t feel bereft.  Who had to leave nursery or pre-school yet didn’t feel ready to leave that life, that routine or group of carers.  Who was watching other mummies in the playground try to get their child into school whilst battling a feisty toddler or juggle a new baby when their arms were left empty.  Who just wanted to scream let me have my baby back, I’m not ready for this experience to end.  Who cried a million tears silently, on her own, not just at the child starting school but at the child who she loved but had lost or not yet met.

I was that mummy when Zac started school.  It was an all consuming experience that too few could understand.  It had so many layers, was so complex and was hugely painful.  Life was racing on fast forward and I couldn’t keep up.  I was supposed to have another baby by then.  I had lost the opportunity on too many occasions and life wasn’t panning out as I’d planned or hoped for.  And it hurt.

This week, Facebook was filled with mummies tormented by their little one starting school, with a few able to admit the pain and hurt at their loneliness and it was heartbreaking to read.

I have no real effective words of comfort, advice or tips on how to cope in these weeks ahead.  It’s tough enough for me with the twins starting knowing I no longer yearn for a child, but I know it’s doubly tough for you with the empty void you also feel, the frustration that haunts you and the feeling that people don’t understand the depth of your hurt.

But I do.  And there are others who do too.  Find them, talk to them, open up and share your feelings.  Be kind to yourself.  Cut yourself some slack and squeeze that baby with all your might when you strip off that “stupid”, over-sized uniform and tuck them up tonight. x

Almost here……

So nearly four years on and my book is finally here.  Not launched yet, but we are now just a few days away.  Just a few tweaks to the distribution and then we’re off!

Today I went to the publishers to collect some copies ready for The Fertility Show and as Zac was off school poorly today, I had to take him along with me for the drive.  Somehow, it was meant to be that he should have a high temperature and be off school today.  Afterall, if he hadn’t been such a wonderful, beautiful boy, that meant the world to us, we would never have been on this crazy journey in the first place.  It felt like a nice full circle closing, (though of course grumpy pants didn’t think so and is actually all rather bored of ‘mummy’s flippin book’ at the moment!)

I’ve seen a draft version in print before and that was a thrilling moment and it was exciting to tear open a box with Jason and give him the first official copy – note to self, he’s not paid me yet!.  But perhaps the real ‘WOW’ moment for me today was seeing a stack of the books in the warehouse and the first palette all boxed up.  This was more than ‘my book’ it was a bloody great big pile of books all ready to be dispatched to anyone who wants to read it, all over the world.  My stomach lurched and it really was a moment to remember!  “Bloody Hell!”

Getting a book published had been on my Bucket List for a long long time.  It’s almost unbelievable and too much to take in to realise it can now be crossed off!  But this last couple of years has turned into much, much more than just trying to tick off an entry on my Bucket List.  It’s become less about my story and more about the story of Secondary Infertility.  Two words that I had never even heard off when I first added ‘book published’ on my Bucket List.  Two words I’d never heard off when I started, and ended, my fertility treatment.  Two little but significant words that changed my life forever.

Of course I’m excited about getting the book finally published, holding it, seeing what it actually looks like after all these years in the planning.  With regards people reading it however, I’m really quite nervous about looking into the whites of people’s eyes that I know, after they have read it, knowing they will have seen into the depths of my heart and soul  – it’s quite a frightening thought in someways.  The obvious excitement is also tinged with a little anxiety!

Yet truly, the most thrilling prospect today is sitting back at my desk and seeing all the feedback on Twitter and Facebook from couples (mostly girls) who want to read the story and who I know will feel comfort and understanding.  They are the ones it was written for.  They are the ones I imagined each night as I tapped away.  I wrote 102,000 words detailing our story but really I just wanted to say “you are not alone, you should not feel guilty, it’s OK to want another baby” over and over and over again – perhaps 102,000 times!  Yet that book wouldn’t have sold for sure, and writing about our most intimate moments and thoughts, seemed to be potentially a more interesting read.  We’ll certainly find out over the next few months!…….

So my excitement tonight is a little premature.  This is a personal achievement for me for sure but it’s not really crossing the finish line until the book is in the hands of someone who it was written for, who needs it, who will benefit from it.  When they put it down and sigh saying “I finally feel understood” and toast that freedom with a large G&T then I will really be able to WHOOP WHOOP!

To remind myself of the very last paragraph in the book:

And finally thank you to the publisher who turned me down and said “There isn’t a market for this book.” You lit a touch paper in me I never knew existed and prompted me to prove you wrong. There is unfortunately a huge market of couples across the world that will sadly appreciate, buy and benefit from this book and it is my intention to reach them. They may not know it yet, they may be unaware of the name of their condition, but without your rejection it would never have been my mission to tell them.

What I really wanted to finish that paragraph with was FUCK YOU!!  #fingersalute

 

 

That look on his face.

As much as sitting on the loo staring at the dark streak of blood on the paper in my hands gave me a kick in the stomach, that was nothing compared to the pain of having to tell my husband.  It wasn’t bad enough that I should have the earth shattering discovery that I was bleeding and my dream of being a mum for the second time was over for another cycle, I then had to find the courage and strength to impart the tragic news to the person I loved the most, my husband.

Infertility is often all about the woman, for obvious (unfair if you ask me and God IS a man but anyway) reasons.

I could be broken, physically, mentally and emotionally destroyed yet I would have to muster that certain something that would not only enable me to deliver the news, but also be there to comfort and support him when his dream of becoming a father was snatched away, again.

I was talking to another girl recently about ‘that look on his face’.  That little boy lost look that cannot disguise the immense, acute pain coupled with the longing yet confused look as to what to do next.  Should I hug her?  Will she hug me?  Can I change this?  Can I rewind time?  Can it be true?  It is alright to cry?  Do I really have to look at that paper FFS?

There is no disputing that men are often overlooked throughout the treatment and it’s pleasing that mens’ fertility issues are being talked about more and more.  Yet still, no matter how much attention is paid to perhaps Men-related causes of infertility, whatever the cause, there will always be that look between and woman and her partner when she has to deliver the news.  It’s unavoidable, and I guess in some relationships, that look could be on a female partner where the other is trying to get pregnant.

I will never forget that look.  I’ll never forget the fear and fury and having to tell someone that news knowing how devastated they would be.  When I needed support the most I had to find strength to comfort someone else.  Yet it’s the way it was, will be and can only be.

New Chapter Release

https://morelovetogivebyhelendavies.com/sample-chapters/chapter-15-staring-at-the-face-of-frightening-statistics/

So those who know me well, probably won’t be surprised to learn that I’ve started writing another book, which is again about Secondary Infertility, but is more of a guide and practical support for those suffering and for those around someone suffering.  It will hopefully be an easy to digest ‘friend’ to anyone wanting to understand more about their situation and on realising it is a ‘condition’, the content will also hopefully make them feel empowered and a little more at peace.

In researching this new book, I have been all over the blogs and websites recently and what has struck me is that whilst my babies are now 2, nothing has changed.  There are new women every day, bravely joining blogs and forums asking the same questions, feeling the same fear and wanting to know more information.  I never really thought the problem had or would go away, but neither had I given it much thought since I had stopped visiting the sites, so this came as somewhat of a surprise.  And it saddened me.

I am currently a ‘text buddy’ to four girls, all going through fertility difficulties, all with different stories and situations, but all share the same pain.  And all have the same thirst for knowledge, hunger for understanding and desperate need of support.  The feeling of helplessness I often feel does quite bother me and I have an appreciation of my close friends and family who clearly would have had the same feelings in supporting me on my journey.

And so, the only thing I can do is to show understanding and so I thought I’d share another chapter from More Love To Give – An IVF Memoir, and enlighten them, and anyone else in a similar boat, that those feelings they have are normal and it’s OK to feel that way.  This chapter describes the first group meeting we attended before any treatment started and gives an insight into how the emotions make your brain run riot in your head and your heart bang twice as loud as I’m sure it should!

My putting the proverbial pen to paper a second time isn’t that I’ve given up on this first book.  Far from it.  I’m bloody determined to get it published but have been a little sidetracked in recent months.  The second book is a ‘buddy’ for the first, a partner, a support to help it get to it’s final destination.  And sometimes, that’s all any of us can be.

I hope you enjoy x

 

 

Wisdom in one so young

So this morning I sadly received a text from a friend whose second IVF cycle failed.  BFN as they say (well they say Big Fat Negative though admittedly the ‘F’ always meant something else in this house!)  I was so terribly sorry for her and angry at her misfortune and it took me right back to those dark days when I would just want to scream and shout at the lack of control I had over the result.

As I walked into the kitchen shortly afterwards, our 18 month old twins were tormenting Zac, soon to be 7 in just 15 days time and he was looking rather harrassed.  He was trying to complete a game of Fifa on his iPad and the babies were trying to grab it and were screaming in frustration at him.  I laughed at the chaos around me, and poor Zac’s plight, and said: “Zac, when you are all grown up, do you think you would like to have babies?”  I was totally surprised at his answer.

“Well I guess so, if I’m lucky.”  When I asked what he meant he simply said: “Well some people can’t have babies can they?  I might not be lucky enough to have babies.”

So grown up, so wise, so accurate.  I felt an instant pang of guilt.  Had I created a world around my young boy that had taught him one of life’s cruel lessons as such a tender age?  I know we had brought Zac along on our journey to extend the family and I was always careful when explaining to him why he didn’t have a brother or sister at the time, but it had clearly left a mark on him and made a lasting impression that I was ashamed I had not continued to nurture.

As I stewed in my own thoughts and Zac rescued his iPad from his now tantruming little brother he said: “I guess if I say my prayers and am a good boy I might have babies, but don’t worry Mummy, our babies haven’t put me off, they are only annoying sometimes!”

Jason and I laughed at his wisdom and his conclusion that the twins were only temporarily annoying.  Yet today, I’ll say my prayers for my friend, remembering how lucky we were to have ours answered and how extra lucky our babies are to have such a wonderful big brother in Zac.

In their shoes – and I don’t like it!

Each time my treatment failed or my period came, I became hardened to that pain and became deaf to my loved ones soothing words.

Their sympathetic repetitive phrases used to drive me mad and the helpless look on their faces as they struggled to find anything to say to help me was almost as painful as the despair itself.

I did feel sorry for them.  I did long for them not to feel any pain and often, once the realisation that we had been unsuccessful yet again had sunk in, I’d start to dread telling friends and family, knowing that they too would be hurt once more.

Recently, I was supporting someone I have known for years through her fertility treatment. This time, her fourth cycle, she seemed to be passing every hurdle brilliantly and she got further than she had ever got before.  And then she shared her tragic news.  It was not to be.

Whilst I have supported a number of girls through negative tests, miscarriages and failed cycles, this one hit me harder than any before.  I was convinced it was their time.  I had no words.  I literally did not know what to say to her and for the very first time I wanted to get on the phone to my Mum, brother, sister in law, big sister, friends and wider family and say how utterly sorry I was for everything I put them through.  For all the times I growled as they tried to find something to say.  For all the grunts when they said they were sorry for us.  For all the times I left the silence between us as they struggled to make me feel a little bit better.

It was horrid.  I felt useless.  I realised just how hard it had been for those around us.

In the end, after expressing my sorrow of course, I used the words with her that I found to be the only words that helped me. “It’s shit”

I found in saying these words to friends and family, it let them off the hook in trying to find clever words to fix the situation.  There are no words, there is no fix, the situation is just shit.  I knew it, they knew it and actually, bluntly acknowledging the fact always made me and them feel better.

They say swearing demonstrates a poor vocabulary, but when all else fails – who gives a shit?!

At what cost a child?

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2926471/Woman-appeals-donations-strangers-afford-IVF-refused-treatment-NHS.html

This story is in the paper today about a woman whose only hope of a child is through IVF as her partner had testicular cancer, but because he has also had a child in another relationship before the cancer, the NHS refuses to fund their fertility treatment.

Her mother describes Eva: ‘Eva is a shadow of her former self. As Eva’s parent I have watched how the desire for a child has affected every part of who she is.

‘Eva has lost her confidence and self-esteem… she is depressed, angry, and always emotionally fragile.’

Funding debates are complicated and views are subjective and having had to pay for four rounds myself i am obviously fairly one sided in my views. What frustrates me mostly in the ‘should fertility treatment be funded?’ debate is that the fertility organs aren’t viewed the same as any other organs that aren’t functioning properly. It takes two to tango, two people and two sets of fertility organs to create a new life – if one of those isn’t working properly why are these not eligible for funded treatment? Unjust? I think so. Needs addressing? Definitely. I consider myself lucky to have afforded 4 rounds but there would have shortly come a time where I could not have afforded another round, if that time had come after three rounds I would not have my babies today. Unbearable thought.
That Eva has had to resort to the Gofundme site is testament to the pain longing for a child creates and her sheer determination to be a mummy. I hope she is successful. But then her real battle starts and I wish her success with her treatment too.
I can’t ever remember seeing a morbidly obese person launching a Gofundme site for a stomach stapling!! #unjust

Zephyr’s playmates are finally on the way!

http://www.mirror.co.uk/tv/tv-news/Julia-Bradbury-im-44-pregnant-4984899

Julia Bradbury was so desperate to “provide a playmate” for her son Zephyr she underwent 5 rounds of IVF and at age 44 is now expecting two playmates, twins!  “It’s a lovely thing to be able to give that gift of a sibling, Zeph’s very excited about becoming a big brother.”

Enjoying, loving and watching your child grow can be such a huge motivator to have another baby.  Your desire to provide a full and happy life for that first child leads you to want to provide a larger, loving family, a buddy, a sibling.  It’s a different desire to wanting a first but it’s an instinctive drive all the same.

That feeling is no less painful, but it’s a lot less understood.  Let’s hope little Zephyr is thrilled with his new playmates and Julia’s desire is finally fulfilled.

Between a rock and a hard place is a very hard place to be.

Having just been rejected by a publisher, following two rejections from agents last month, I am, as you can imagine, feeling a little flat.  Yet not because my book has been rejected, believe it or not (I mean JK Rowling apparently had her Harry Potter manuscript rejected 20 times), but because of the reasons being given.

They feel “‘More Love To Give’ is for a very niche audience”; no shit Sherlock!  This subject will of course only appeal to a very small audience, though on the positive side, thankfully there are fewer people who will want to read about struggling for a second baby than there are interested in wizards!  I can live with a ‘niche, specialist market’ reason.  Yet the next two leave me furious and frustrated: “There are very few searches on Amazon for Secondary Infertility” and “another memoir book about Secondary Infertility has only sold 29 copies in 10 years” 

I could have told them there will be very few searches for Secondary Infertility on Amazon given I went through four rounds of IVF and wrote a bloody book about it before I realised my situation had a title!  I Googled and searched for ‘IVF’, ‘infertility’ and ‘trying for a second baby’.  I never searched for Secondary Infertility because it is an area that is so over-looked and has such a stigma attached to it that nobody spoke to me about it, so I never knew where to find specific help – THAT’S WHY I’VE WRITTEN A BOOK TO HELP OTHERS IN THE SAME WILDERNESS!

And as for having my future mapped out based on somebody else’s dismal attempt at writing and selling their poor excuse for a book, well that is just infuriating!  29 copies? Somebody wasn’t doing their job right were they to only sell 29 for goodness sake!  Or could it be, that just too little promotion was done to reach those people who would have loved to read the book but didn’t know where to look or how to search for it on Amazon??!!  Believe me, I know the market is a helluva lot bigger than 29!

Mr Chicken meet Mr Egg.  Mr Head meet Mr Brickwall.  

To date, I have 34 copies of my book reserved and I even took a reservation from the checkout girl at Tesco last week, who was cooing over my twins and talking about how she has been desperate for another child for years but her husband is happy with their son and refuses to have another. “Oh really?…”, said I.  Another copy reserved. Bish bosh.  And I haven’t even started yet!

I fully expected to get lots of rejections and I’m slightly sad but cool that I’m going through the process.  I was so close with this publisher this time.  One step on from an agent and they were really tempted, but it was just the stats and facts about the potential market and previous book’s performance that held us back.

It may be a small minority of people, let’s face it we won’t be knocking good ‘ol Lynda Bellingham off the bestsellers’ list, but perhaps that makes me more determined to get this topic talked about.  Those few people with so much more love to give have too few places to find support.  They deserve to have someone take a punt on them, and my book, and for the profile of ‘Secondary Infertility’ to be raised.

You can’t get to your destination if you don’t know where to look for a signpost.

29 copies?!  Hmph!

So near and yet so far

In the six hours since the MLTG page went live on the world wide web, it already has 50 likes, 14 shares and I have 4 orders for my book!  How cool is that?  And yet it is the 3 comments made on the page that mean the most.  Sitting for hundreds of hours pouring my heart out into the laptop, often felt like the loneliest place on the planet.  I will never forget the moment I read a paragraph in Zita West’s Guide to IVF (bible) that mentioned existing parents often had a feeling of guilt.  At last somebody understood.  That was me!  I was shocked as I read the words but I was also immensely comforted.  I’ll also remember the shock at learning that our situation actually had a name ‘Secondary Infertility’. At last I felt ‘defined’, part of a group and suddenly not so alone.  To receive feedback today from 3 people who are currently in a similar situation and have thanked me for sharing my story is one of the strangest feelings I have ever felt.  In the words of one: “I honestly can’t relate to that enough.  You have captured how I’m sure a million women feel.  At a daunting yet exciting time this had given me so much positivity for the future.”  I have always dreamed of getting this book published but tonight, this means more to me than any Amazon listing.  I know how she feels, she now feels understood.  She doesn’t feel so alone and I hope she can start to shake off a little of the guilt she has been carrying round.  Yet I feel sad that despite launching on the world wide web, this friend lives just 10 minutes away.  We live so near, yet when you are struggling alone, we live so far away.  Let’s talk more.  Let’s share more.  Let’s drop the shame. x