For me, the first week in March is a time of quiet reflection and also celebration.
We’d had a long journey. 3 years, cancelled operations, endless waiting, not knowing, more and more pregnancy announcements from friends. The loneliness I felt was palpable. It does that to you, sodding infertility. The worst bit isn’t the drugs, or the stream of doctors looking at your lady bits, the general anesthetics, or even the disappointment. It’s that it turns you into a person that you don’t really recognise. It makes you bitter.
Then, we made a choice. We decided to ignore the NHS clinic we’d put all our trust in up until that point, and move, leaving behind 2 failed IVF attempts. On 1st March 2011, 3 years ago this week, we had our first appointment at ARGC. I walked into that shoddy looking building just off Harley Street and I felt different. I felt that these people were going to give me a baby. For the first time in years, I felt hopeful again.
And do you know what? They only bloody well gave me two babies. Almost a year to the day after that first appointment, G&H came hurtling into our world, righting all of the wrongs that had pained us.
How can you ever begin to thank someone that did that for you? They took that “you’ve got a 10% chance” statistic we’d been given and gave us a family.
So this week, as always now, will be full of grateful reflection on how far we’ve come. I’ll send an email to the clinic, with photos and over-emotional thanks, reminding them that every single day they make someone’s life.
Then, later in the week, there’ll be a pair of big birthdays and a Postman Pat cake..
PS. I’m linking my moments of reflection with lovely Sara at Mum Turned Mom for #ThePrompt.