On Infertility - Other People's children

When you are married / in a couple in your early thirties, it is very hard to avoid children. It seems (because it's true) that almost every week we hear about someone falling pregnant, having a baby.

On the one hand, it's wonderful - I am so happy for my friends and families who are having children, creating or growing their family. In different circumstances I would be leaping with joy, but I can't. It's not their fault. People aren't out there falling pregnant to spite me (I would hope not - that would be weird), in fact very few people know that we are trying to have children. But it still hurts. It's not that I'm jealous of them having their baby. I'm jealous of me not having mine, us not having ours.

This is the best way I can explain it is as follows. One of the defining characteristics of being human is dignity. And what is dignity? Dignity is being complete within yourself, despite your circumstances, despite your position in life, being able to stand up straight, your head held high, knowing that you are complete in and of yourself. A dignified person isn't jealous of someone else. Being jealous of someone else is acknowledging that you lack something, believing that you are not complete, that you lack a partner or a bigger house or better job. After years of maturing and learning not to be jealous of what others have, working towards being dignified, I have lost that. When someone else announces they're pregnant, despite everything, it is a reminder of what we, I don't have. That despite all the trying and working so hard, the appointments, the injections, the vitamins, the life overhauls - they have something, they have achieved something that I can't. I just feel acutely the child-shaped hole that I know is in my life.

I don't want their child, I don't want their life, I want mine. 

On Infertility - Intro

Originally, this was going to be just one post, but I found it difficult to encapsulate everything I wanted to say in just one essay, as this topic, what it means to me, is so wide-ranging that it needs to be examined from a number of angles, in a number of different ways.

It pains me to even write "infertility" because I don't want it to be true, but it has happened. I also can't add it as an adjective to describe me, though that's not just optimism; no doctor has described me as "infertile", it's just I haven't fallen pregnant, or I haven't fallen pregnant and carried to term.
It is something we had made accommodation for ("we'll start trying now, but in x years if it doesn't happen we will seek assistance"), without ever believing that it would happen to us. It happens to other people, not us or people we know, but other mystical infertile couples. But that's not true - it is way more common than I have ever thought possible (around 1 in 6 couples have problems conceiving), it's just not something that is talked about (at least in my world). But it happens. It is something I, we, are in the middle of.

One of the things with it, is that unless you have been through or are going through it, it is very difficult to understand what it's like. Not even the most well meaning, empathetic individual (in my experience) can relate, can know what it's like, but partly what I am trying to do here is give an outsider a glimpse into this world.

Ironically (given it is written as the end point), I found this article articulates a lot of what is difficult about it. When you decide you want to have children, that you're going to start trying, it effectively means choosing to overhaul your life completely. Deciding to have children affects all aspects - what you eat (there's so much guidance on what you should and shouldn't consume when trying to conceive), where you live, how you spend your time, how you spend (or don't) your money, career choices; the article I linked above articulates it so well:
"Pursuing a child is an absolute lifestyle. Some people don’t realize how much time it takes. It affects everything—the food you eat, your daily routine, the phone calls, the red tape, the appointments—it holds you back from pursuing other things. I had been living my whole life with the idea that I would have a baby someday, and it affected everything: career decisions, which car I bought, the home that I bought. I lived my life in a way that centered around a future with a baby."

But then, it doesn't happen. You change so many things in your life, hold back on doing things, and for nothing. You wait. Every month is a cycle of hope and expectation and planning, for it all to come to nought the moment either the pregnancy test shows negative or your period arrives. But then you start again, from the beginning, trying hard not to get too emotionally involved, but it's impossible. You hear things about being positive, and that affecting the outcome, but investing too much of yourself means losing that part of yourself when it fails. You want to give of your all - it would be awful, the guilt, of this round being unsuccessful because you didn't try hard enough, you ate the wrong food, did too much / too little exercise, had too little sex or too much, took the wrong drugs, took the right drugs at the wrong time, slept too little, slept too much, was too stressed. And so you continue on and on, with the hope that one day, it will work.

I'm still waiting for that day.

On challenges

The first half of this year has been challenging, to put it mildly. Things that I never thought could happen to me (see: broken leg, family troubles) have. It has been tough, and frustrating and I never in a million years would have wanted anything that has happened so far, to have happened or to happen to other people.

But then, part of me is glad this has all gone on, because what I've found is that when terrible things happen, good can come out of it. I had a very unlikely inspirational person on this point, a manager and friend from when I worked at a waitress. He taught me something very valuable (though I think at the time he was referring to trying to turn a waitressing disaster into something better, like dropping a glass or forgetting to place an order). He would always say "what are you going to do to turn this around?" And that has helped me invaluably. I suppose another way to phrase it is what lessons, or what positives, can you take from a challenge, how can you make sure that this wasn't a wasted opportunity.

With my broken leg and the other troubles, I've learned that:
- total strangers can be wonderful, they can look after you and be kind and caring even Londoners. I generally tend to be a bit sceptical of people (to quote Dr Cox in Scrubs) "People are bastard coated bastards with a bastard filling" (okay, I've never been that bad), but what I've learned is actually people can be lovely, really lovely. Total strangers called an ambulance, shielded me from the cars and made sure I was okay, they've helped me get around, held doors, and generally looked after me;
- the people in my life are wonderful. I'm not saying I had the "bastard" view of friends and family members, I just didn't always realise how much they cared. I've had people visit, cook food, check up on me, make me laugh, carry stuff for me, be concerned for me.
- Given all the loveliness experienced above, it's encouraged me to be a better person (or at least try). When thinking of the strangers who stayed with me, it's made me think "would I do the same?""how can I help out people in my life?"
- You can only take some things, one day at a time. If I had known when I first broke my leg that two months later, I'd still be using crutches, I think I would have freaked out. The surgeon told me it would be three months until I was back to normal, and at the time it seemed terrible, but now it seems about right, and it's been okay
- figure out how you can "turn it around". I would never have wanted to break my leg, but I enjoyed having the break from work (as terrible as that sounds), as it's given me some perspective. It's also given me time to do other stuff, like get a novel ready for a competition (I'd planned on doing it, but I don't know if I would have managed it), realise how rushed and stressed out I was, start blogging and watch some of the world's worst movies without feeling guilty

On the World Cup

Is it finished yet?

On hayfever

In an ideal world, the soundtrack of my summer would be something like Sunny Afternoon by the Kinks or August Day Song by Bebel Gilberto or pretty much anything else which conjures up heavy perfumed air, lazy afternoons, ice cold lemonade, pretty much anything other than sneezing fits in the evening as the pollen settles, and gummy eyes. But no, I think the song that most accurately describes most of my summers (in the UK, it seems that whatever is ailing me doesn't lurk in other countries) is The Divine Comedy's Pop Singer's Fear of the Pollen Count. I hate it, I hate feeling the back of my throat itching up, the streaming nose, the puffy eyes, sneezing fits at inopportune moments. Also, the worst year (and day) I ever had for hayfever was the year of my graduation; all my graduation photos for all eternity, my face is puffy, my eyes red and streaming. It honestly doesn't look like me, or it looks like me inflated. And this was after mammoth doses of antihistamine, anti-histamine eye drops straight from the fridge (best thing ever) and generally doing whatever I could to look normal. I suppose it could have been worse, it could have happened on my wedding day.

But, even after all that, I learned that it doesn't end there. I found out (fortunately after I'd finished having exams, otherwise it would have bummed me out too much) that antihistamines can affect your ability to study. So yeah, not only are exams smack bang in the good weather time so you're inside revising instead of outside, doing pretty much anything else (I tried studying outside, it doesn't work), AND when hayfever is at its height, taking antihistamines to be able to try and deal with it can affect your concentration, and your exam results. I'm seriously contemplating contacting my university and seeing if they'll agree to a do-over, of my exams and my graduation photos. Or you know, so I don't have to do exams ever again, just bump my final grades up by 10% across the board, and redo my graduation photos with professional hair and make up, and Annie Leibovits or Mario Testino. That seems reasonable to me.
An example of what my revised graduation photos would look like, only imagine I'm clutching my degree in my hand as I run from the university to a bright future.

On not buying things

Inspired by this post on Design Sponge, I decided to try not to buy things unnecessarily in May. It went well, very well, I came up with a "no buy" list, that I'd add items to, as I thought of them. I noticed a couple of things, firstly I seem to want to buy very random objects at all sorts of strange times. I didn't realise that. I didn't realise that I'd be walking down the road and decide that I absolutely needed a pair of espadrilles.When I started listing all the objects, it turns out that it happened quite a lot, and this also shows in a way what a curse internet shopping is, as it is now possible to go "I totally need a snorkeling mask" and be able to buy one without having to physically go to a store, look at various snorkeling masks and realise it's a ridiculous idea because you live in a landlocked city. Nope, you can buy almost anything instantaneously which means it is very easy to buy lots of stupid things, stupid things you don't really need.
The second was that, over time the list of things I actually properly needed or really wanted to buy was short, very short.

I said it went well, it did, for about a week and then I ended up with a broken leg, lots of time on the internet and being able to accept parcels at home. It kind of went to pot at that point. BUT, my mindset has changed, even though it properly happened for a week. It has forced me to think more about not just buying things because I want them then and there, but to consider it more, save for something good rather than lots of mediocre or rubbish items.

On fashion

I've always loved and admired clothes and fashion, in an over-exuberant puppy type way. I'm full of enthusiasm and joy, but very clumsy and often making a mess and tracking mud through the house. This has been the case since I was a child, and could apparently always be found in layers and layers of dressing up clothes (regardless of whether or not they made sense or went together). I hope that in my years of living and reading who knows how many fashion blogs, articles and staring at Pinterest with feverish eyes (and making friends with someone eminently and effortlessly chic), that I've improved since. There are many times I read GoFugYourself and agree wholeheartedly with the comments, so I must be going right somewhere. One day I was off sick from school, and my mom gave me "The women we wanted to look like"  to keep me entertained, which was a book she'd gotten from my aunt - I consumed it in that one day. It was amazing, all the beautiful clothes, the beautiful women. It had a profound affect on me.

My main problem is I get so bored with my clothes I feel I need to buy more, or throw everything out and start again, to misquote Elaine Benes (I couldn't find the original quote) "I just look at my wardrobe sometimes and I'm so bored". This maybe a uniquely female problem - Mr LaGoz has a very pared down wardrobe, and I've yet to see him standing in front of it looking at it with despair and going "I just HATE everything I own you know? I need a new suit, in a slightly different shade of charcoal and with a different collar. I also want the pocket about half a centimetre higher, amiright?". Or maybe because he doesn't dress by mood; there are times when my wardrobe just doesn't have the requisite clothes for me to feel like Audrey Hepburn post make-over in Sabrina, or Cher Horowitz in casual mode.

My other problem is that I just don't have enough money. This could be helped by going cold turkey on paying rent and eating, but that seems a bit extreme to get a fabulous YSL* Le Smoking jacket (though don't think I haven't contemplated it ...).

I also think that fashion is an underrated art form; a recent visit to the Jean Paul Gaultier exhibit confirmed that. The man is a genius and a craftsman, a sculpture if you will (and thanks to Stanley Tucci in Devil Wears Prada that my view in general is correct. Yes I know it was probably in the script and doesn't represent the personal views of Mr Tucci, but in my head it does).

*It will always be Yves St Laurent to me. I know this puts me firmly in the past, just like my insistence on treating Pluto as a planet. It was always my favourite, so just dumping it like that was hard to bear. Maybe in time.