I woke up today feeling blue. I know why: I’m going to a friend’s baby party today (she had her newborn the same weekend we found our first round of IVF had failed) and I just don’t want to.
I know it’ll be full of yummy mommies and smug daddies, and cute babies everywhere. Because we’re in our mid-30s, and that’s the way it is.
I’d love not to go. It’s a beautiful day in Windsor today. I’d much prefer to sit in the garden and read the paper and potter about. But this friend is a good one, and I want to be there for her. And I do want to meet their new baby… ish.
So what are my coping tactics? Apart from limiting my appearance to an hour (even though it’ll take an hour to get there and back), today I thought I’d focus on counting my blessings.
I have a lot to be grateful for. I am healthy, I live in a gorgeous cottage with a brilliant husband, I have two amazing cats, I have a good job, I have lovely friends and family…
… with IVF, I am still relatively young (36), with good hormone levels and every chance of it working. We can afford to go private, I am getting health investigations paid for through work, and my work are supportive.
Things could be worse and really aren’t that bad in the grand scheme of things. Just think: in three months’ time, maybe I’ll be pregnant. And how grateful will we be if that happens?
But what if? my mind asks. What if it doesn’t and we have to move onto IVF round three. What then? Will I have had enough, will my body be knackered, will my work have had enough of me, will me and my DH still be on the same team? I will be so, so sad, I think. I’ll be broken. And I’m absolutely terrified about that.
Then I have to bring myself back into the room and say: one step at a time. Let’s be grateful for what we have: a strong relationship, choices, loving people around us… and hope. You still have hope. And things always work out, one way or another.