I started this blog two years ago, with another name, another aim, and another future in mind.
What a difference two years makes.
Shortly after I started the blog, we started trying for a family. Little did we know we were starting another journey entirely – one that has tested our strength and resilience, our goals and values, our emotions, and our patience.
After just over a year of trying, we started the investigations to determine why it wasn’t happening. A few months later, I learned I had severe endometriosis. It was removed, but we knew our likelihood of conceiving on our own had dropped somewhat. Seven months later, trying fervently to think of it only being seven months of trying and not two years, we have still never had a positive pregnancy test. I’m about to start the first of many “assisted” therapies – a drug called Clomid which will stimulate my ovaries to produce more eggs. Even though I’m ovulating just fine, it will boost our chances from a measly 1-3% to a slightly less measly 4-6%.
The plan is try it for a few months, taking 25mg from day 5-9 of my cycle, with an ultrasound on day 12 to see how things are looking. I know it could make me nauseated or cause vomiting, dizziness, sweats and mood swings. But given I’m starting with a very low dose, hopefully any side effects will be minimal. Acupuncture and herbal tonics from my naturopath on the side will, I hope, help my body manage the change as smoothly as possible.
Why write about all this, why share it with the world?
Because not enough women do. Because I didn’t even know endometriosis was something more severe than bad periods, and that it could cause infertility – and because more women should know.
Because journaling is supposed to be a good form of therapy.
Because so many forums are filled with the heavily abridged and usually rather terrifying versions of women’s journeys down this awful rabbit hole, and surely there is room for a little measured examination and quiet contemplation of the process; of the highs and lows; of the struggles and the growth that comes from them; of facing the realisation that your path is going to be quite different from the women around you, those who reproduce with seeming ease, and those who face the same hurdles as you but manage to leap them before you do; of the waiting, and the wanting, and the woe, and the occasional wonder.
image from this post on Odyssey