Upside down, boy you turn me…….#loveDianaRoss

I’m ovulating.

Just from the title of this post, you know where this going before I even tell you don’t you…?

Normally, to not freak my husband out totally, I shove a pillow under my bum after sex, you know, just to help the little fellas along. This clearly isn’t fucking working though is it, so I’ve taken to standing on my head after the deed is done. Who needs a cuddle and sweet nothings once I’ve extracted what I need from my poor unsuspecting husband. He isn’t actually unsuspecting, to be clear, he knows what we are doing, but I still don’t think he really gets it…. like…understands that sex just isn’t enough for us to get pregnant.

Anyway, last night, after the deed, for some reason the husband had to go downstairs…it will have been cat related. Everything that man does is related to our cats…Anyway I quickly jumped off the bed and stood on my head. This all sounds rather normal to anyone trying to get pregnant I’m sure.

Problem is, I’m not very good at standing on my head. And I got stuck.

As my husband came back in, he made a weird noise and asked what on earth I was doing (like I said, he really doesn’t get even after 4 years of trying). I asked him to help me back up, to which he offered me one hand. One hand I tell you. I am not a tiny girl. It was going to take both his hands and a lot of arm strength to get me back up right. Of course, I only had one of his hands which led to me thumping the floor like an elephant and screaming that I had popped my shoulder. This may have been slightly dramatic, in fact, I may have bounced on the floor slightly and landed in a position that would make Christian Grey blush.

The husband got back into bed laughing as our bedroom door came flying open with my 15-year-old screaming “Mum, mum what it is…. are you ok”.

There I was in a position that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a hardcore porn movie, totally naked, with my baby boy looking at me with his head slightly to the side checking I wasn’t dead.

In the space of what felt like a million years but was really a second or so he said “oh Jesus Christ, really….on a Monday night guys, you are so lame”.

There we have it. I’m never having sex again.
(well until ovulation next month if i’m lucky)

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In a couple of days, my baby turns 15.

In a couple of days, my baby turns 15.

Fiftfrickingteen.

In 12 months time, he will be able to get married (not that I would give my permission), buy a lotto ticket, pilot a glider (who knew) or worse still LEAVE HOME!!!

Im not mentally prepared for the next year at all. GCSEs, choosing a college and the possibility of the boy wonder riding around on a moped (I will buy him one to stop him leaving home) make me want to curl up in a ball and cry, whilst hurling abuse at my useless ovaries for not giving me another child to love.

Bar my baby growing up way too fast for my liking, life is quite nice at the moment.

After a pretty crappy first half of the year, things have turned around somewhat. The husband and I are still going strong. It’s not perfect, but we are defo getting there. After the shock of the redundancy, im now in a rather exciting new role which is taking up much of my time and headspace – which is certainly a good thing.

So where are we with the baby “thing”. We’re trying – obviously. There isn’t the pressure there was before but we are trying. I still feel sad every time I read that a celeb is pregnant with their 8th baby in the Daily Mail and im still crying when my friends announce their pregnancies whilst desperately trying to sound happy. I am happy for them of course – im just envious and would love it to be us.

The boy asked me yesterday what was going on with “operation <makes a cry noise that puts me off babies>”. I was as honest with him as I am with you…I want it. The husband wants it. But we’re not ready to go down the medical route again just yet.

Who knows, maybe we wont have too? #fingerscrossed

I’ve changed……!

So, we’ve been back together for two months now – time flies huh!

As I’ve mentioned before, 2017 has not been the best year for N and I, but it is defo getting better 🙂

So, what’s changed?

Well, that’s easy, ME!

For those who know me personally and saw my Facebook posts when we were separated, you will know that my husband has an issue with my weight. I’m a size 12, so not massive, but I do moan a lot about my weight and could do with shifting a couple of stone – which even the fertility nurse mentioned last year, so the husband certainly does have a valid point, just maybe his delivery of said opinion could have been better.

Before we separated, my husband’s opinion of how I looked meant the world the to me. If he didn’t tell me I looked nice it would affect my mood for a considerable amount of time. This is not normal behaviour and though I’d love to blame dormant depression, I think I was just a bit of a dick. Needy, lacking confidence maybe, not really the bubbly, happy person I like to think I am.

Now, before my friends jump at me and tell me this was not my issue, it was my husband making me feel this way…I don’t think it was. It was my issue as I allowed him to have the control over my happiness. We’re married, he’s the one person in the world whose opinion of me matters. Right?

During counselling, I learnt to stop creating a version of myself that is a victim. I also learnt to stop persecuting and how to tell the difference between thoughts, feelings and reality. This is helping me on a daily basis – I’m not perfect, and I still would love my husband to look at me like I’m a princess – maybe he does and I still can’t quite see it. That said, he has a couple of times in the last 2 months made me feel like the most amazing person in the world. He’s made me feel loved, cared for, respected etc. That’s good right…considering everything we’ve been through.
The other change I’ve noticed is I’m not scared anymore. A decade ago I moved 50 miles to live with my now husband…it’s not that far I agree…but it took me from a 15-min drive to my parents, to 45 mins. It took my 5-year-old to a different school and changed his life forever as he is now a true city boy. I’ve also been scared, deep down, that if we divorced, I’d feel lost. Stuck in a city that wasn’t mine. Away from family and a life that I missed. I now know that that is bollocks. This city is my home. I love it. I feel more like Portsmouth is my hometown than Basingstoke ever felt. I have a great life, with amazing friends and experience wonderful life moments in this adorable waterfront city. I’m not scared anymore. When you let go of that fear, a weight is lifted.

The last thing that has changed is we are finally putting ourselves first. We are saying no to social occasions to spend more time together or as a family. We are going out just the two of us, without always feeling like we need friends with us. We’re going to go to more gigs together, all the things you do in the dating stage, that 11 years later are lost somewhere in a life full of fertility disappointment. Im also remembering that getting back together was a joint decision. Our marriage IS what we both want.

So back to reality. Aunt Flo is due in 2 days. I’ve had no backache, no cramps, no chocolate binges and we of course, did it at the right times this month. I was feeling quite positive, until the soap awards last night which saw me sobbing as Lucy-Jo took to the stage and said “where’s my husband” …all she was doing was looking for him in the crowd…. I however, found this devastating and cried like a baby. So, I think we know what’s on its way for me!

 

 

 

So, it’s been an interesting month

It’s been 3 weeks since the hubster and I began repairing our 10.5-year relationship. Christ, it was hard going at first.

Separate sofas, scared for our skin to touch in our massive bed…still not comfortable phoning each other in the day to say hi, heaven forbid one of us would ask the other where they were going or what time they would be home.

Then there was the teenager. “oh, he’s back then”. The nearly 15-year-old had to stand down as man of the house and his mums right hand man to make way for a man he had stopped calling Dad, who he hadn’t so much as spoken to for nearly a month.

It was fucking horrible.

People asked how I felt and I knew I was supposed to say, “so happy, so glad we’re back together”. Yet all I could muster was “yeah its ok”. To be honest, I think people wondered what the hell we were doing.

The elephant in the room was my redundancy. Three weeks before we got back together, I’d been made redundant, totally out of the blue. I’m a very ambitious young (nearly middle aged?) lady.  Without my career, I was lost. Who the hell was I? I was still the teenagers mum. But I wasn’t my husband’s wife. I wasn’t anyone’s Head of Marketing. I was a total failure 4 months before I turned 36 – heading to 40 with a life in tatters.

Yet weirdly, and maybe it was what we needed, the hubster was there. I become vulnerable – possibly for the first time in long time, he felt I needed him. Not financially at that point, just emotionally. We stopped arguing and began enjoying each other’s company. We still weren’t talking about the issues, we were forgetting them, and without realising, we were going back a decade and remembering why we put in all the effort of a 50-mile distance relationship in the first place.

We blocked out the outside world for a bit and spent time just us, sometimes not even talking, just being there. When we did see friends, old and new, we weren’t the same couple. There was no negativity. We were there because we wanted to be. Sounds odd, but that was a new feeling.

In the last 10 days, the teenager has begun calling him Dad again. The cuddles before bed have returned. The shaking of hands is back. The4 hubster isn’t saying no to everything the boy asks for – little things…”can I grab the iPad” …”Can I stay out til 10.30”?

This weekend the hubster and I were in our house with a friend, it was late (it was 4am!) but we were chatting about our relationship and he said how proud he was of me. I haven’t fallen apart (yet) and he can see that I’ve changed – in fact, his words “She’s been amazing”. He looked happy. If you knew him, you’d know that’s an odd sight – he has one of those stubble ridden moody little faces at times.

So, we’re riding this wave, and we seem to be surfing pretty well right now. I’ve even managed to write this whilst on my period, no tears, no disappointment – see, things really have changed.

 

 

Change of plan

It’s been nearly 10.5 years. That’s a long time, right?

I was 25. My son was 4.

He taught the boy how to ride a bike.  He persisted when I would have given up.

He gave me a good talking to when I couldn’t face speaking to my 17-year-old niece who was pregnant. He made me realise my disappointment was my issue. Said Great-Niece was spoilt rotten on birth btw!

He caught me…literally…the day the call came from my Mum to tell us my Dad had died suddenly at home. He carried my Dads coffin for his final journey alongside my brother, brother-in-law and nephews.

A decade in and he has never missed a parents evening.

He married me when marriage was not something he had ever wanted. He worked his butt off doing a job he hated to ensure we had our dream wedding day. He cried during our vows and delivered the most beautiful speech in front of our family and friends.

He’s fed my handbag addiction.

He’s cradled me every month for the last 3.5 years when Mother Nature has deprived us of our own child.

So where did it all go wrong? I guess if I could pin point this, we wouldn’t have spent the past two months living apart. In some ways, I can’t say I’ve missed him. Our relationship had become so toxic it was a relief to be alone.

But things have changed.

We’ve been to counselling. We’ve been out a couple of times for a drink just the two of us. We’ve had candlelit dinners at home. We’ve walked along the seafront talking, looking at each other, listening, discussing, laughing.

I don’t feel responsible for him now. That probably sounds odd. We had become one person. We’d lost who we were. We were like a mirror image.

Now we are me and him. We are two people who love each other and want to be together. We don’t need each other. We can exist separately, but we don’t want to. We’re not perfect. But we had the chance to run away. It was quite pleasant, no plates were thrown, no suits were cut up. There also hasn’t been a major romantic gesture to get us to this point. Just a “I think it’s time you came home”.

So, there we are.

He’s home.

Who knows if the two week wait will become a thing for us again. Now’s obviously not the right time, but maybe one day we’ll be in a place to try again and it won’t break us. Maybe it will even work!?

 

So turns out…it wasn’t enough.

I’m going to be in so much trouble for this post but I think it’s important that I stick with the blog and the honesty that comes with it.

We’ve separated.

After ten years and 3.5 years of trying for a baby, at the moment my marriage is in turmoil.

The husband moved out nearly a month ago. I say moved, I locked him out therefore giving him no choice but to leave. There are obviously a lot of reasons behind this, I’m certainly not going to blame our infertility for everything as anyone who knows us knows full well we are not the perfect couple. We have trust issues. We have communication issues. One of us, it seems, has an issue with their weight. We have respect issues. Basically we have fricking issues!

It’s taken me nearly a month to write this as I’ve literally not stopped crying. Whilst it may have been my decision at the beginning, that still never prepares you for life on your own, or indeed the bitterness and pure hatred that comes next. I guess it’s like grief. You go through the denial period, the anger etc and at some point you come out the other side.

The reason I now feel ready to share the news with you is because we’re off to counselling. This time next week we will be sat in a room, with a stranger, trying to work out if we can save the last decade of our lives or if indeed we even want too.

So there we are. Certainly no baby making coming from me for a while.

p.s I have the best friends. Whether its my inner circle (who have pretty much kept me alive the last few weeks) or my social friends who have reached out, it has all helped and I love you all x

I blame my Marriage.

Sorry for the radio silence WordPressers.

I’m pretty sure, like me, Christmas and New Year seem like ages ago already. That’s not to say we’ve stopped eating cheese and biscuits most nights. I will even admit to eating Christmas pudding for dinner last Friday night – what a rebel!

Our Christmas was lovely, but odd. It was full of wonderful family time, great food and drink and lots of laughs. But it was odd.

Last Christmas we hosted, so we were uber busy most of December planning table decorations – ok I was! My husband wasnt bothered if the candles matched the napkins or if we had enough cake forks (which we didn’t!). Because of this, I didn’t have time to think about life much, I was fully living in the moment, enjoying having our family around us.

This year was different.

This year I felt like our Christmas was missing something. Well, someone I guess.

Whilst our friends were busy visiting Santa, making Christmas decorations out of paper and leaving treats out for the reindeer, we were watching Netflix, or propping up the bar of our local pub.

Whilst our friends were frantically hiding presents and thinking of excuses for reasons their children needed to still want that amazing toy they had been talking about all year but now hated…we were showing the teenager his new bike on Christmas Eve and apologising for not being able to hid the massive thing very well.

I felt lost. I felt like Christmas had lost its magic. This is totally ridiculous as my son hasn’t believed in Santa for years – but this year it hurt. This year it felt like we were in this land that none of our friends lived. The land of nothing.

I know what your thinking…..Fuck me..,.you spent most Christmas boozy….you went to the pub whenever you fancied and slept in til the afternoon – GET A GRIP LOVE.

New Year’s Eve we were in a pub all night, no kids whatsoever (except the 14.5-year-old who was allowed in cos everyone loves him). I drank til I could drink no more. The boy played darts with our mates and every other man in the pub and we all walked home at 1.30am having had super time.

Now January has arrived, I realise I must sound like a twat. But after months of writing about how close our fertility issues have bought us…im now living in fear that they will break us.

I couldn’t enjoy Christmas. What princess doesn’t enjoy bloody Christmas! I say Princess as I was spoilt rotten by the husband, teenager and my mum this year. In my head that’s cos they feel sorry for me bcos I don’t have a baby….in reality its cos they love me – stupid hormones and fecked up brain!

I do love my husband and I don’t blame him for any of this – its as much my fault as his. But I do blame our marriage. Our marriage can’t give me the one thing I want and I need to get over that pretty quickly before I lose everything I have.

So ive started a new diploma…learning should help keep me busy right. Im upping my exercise regime and making plans to see my chums more. The husband and I are going to go on more breaks together – to get away from life and the day to day shit. No-one can say we’re not trying. Let’s just hope its enough x

In love with a Hare

Last week, I received a super duper gift from a very special lady.

A moon gazing hare landed on our doorstep. My new little fertility symbol friend is on my bedside table and ive taken to it so much I rub it every night and every morning.

On a serious note, this gift broke my emotions into little pieces. I know the most extraordinary people – so thank you.

Thanks to everyone over the past year who has told me about their own struggles, cuddled me when I’ve cried for hours or forgiven me for being an utter bith, just cos you know that deep down I’m falling apart.

Who knows if my little chum will help…what I do know is ovulation is here and the hubby and I are too exhausted and stressed out to get down to it so this month might be a bit of a struggle.

That said, maybe the Hare will have such powers we don’t even need to have sex! It is Christmas after all 🙂

Im too bloody old!

A few weeks ago we were over the moon at our referral for fertility treatment. It had been a slog to get there with lots of blood tests, tears, dark rooms, tears. did i mention the tears?

At Doctor appointments we would constantly, and I really do mean constantly, discuss the fact that I already had a 14-year-old. My GP would smile and say don’t worry, as long as “the husband” has no children its ok.

I researched NHS fertility treatment online and it seemed each NHS trust had different criteria for acceptance but I assumed my GP knew all of this and wouldn’t get our hopes up for nothing.

You know what’s coming right…

I phoned the clinic when the referral came through as I had checked the criteria for Hampshire, again, and I was sure we didn’t meet it. They confirmed, rather nicely, that I was indeed correct and in fact, I didn’t meet the criteria on TWO counts!

Firstly, having a child does indeed count us out for NHS treatment. Whether my husband has biological children or not doesn’t come into the equation.

Secondly, I’m too old. You have to be under 35 for NHS treatment and Im 35 and 4 months.

I know this is a sensitive subject and NHS funding is under scrutiny all the time. Im the first one to tut when you read about the girls that get boobs jobs on the NHS to become glamour models etc or when lifesaving drugs are a postcode lottery.

So with that reason in mind, forget about me.

What about my husband? He doesn’t qualify for treatment because his wife has a teenager and she’s too old! How is that fair? Or should noone get fertility treatment on the NHS? How do you choose?

Anyway there is bugger all we can do about it. We are still going to our consultation in the New Year to see what the options are. And I guess if we can’t afford to pay for the treatment, we shouldn’t be having a child in the first place right?

 

#lifesuckssometimes
#wewillkeeptrying

 

 

Teenagers are vile!?

Sorry for the radio silence two week waiters. Life has been a bit of a nightmare the last few weeks and, I can’t believe I’m about to type this, baby making has been the least of my worries!

Teenagers.

Bugger me. They are vile.

Life at home has been horrific over the last month. My husband and son fell out big time. I then fell out with son and then life turned into World War Three.

Normally, the 14-year-old is a beaut. Sadly, hormones, life and “the worse parents ever”, led to a huge showdown where, I’m slightly embarrassed to type, the boys bags were packed and my ex-husband was called to collect him.

Anyone who knows me, knows my thoughts on the boys Dads parenting skills, so to call him must have meant we had hit rock bottom. Which believe me we really had.

Of course, the Ex didn’t show but let’s not dwell on his inadequacies.

My first thought was that my son had turned into a drug dealer or someone that couldn’t get through the day without cocaine. I know now that this is not true and that he really is still my beautiful little boy.

In his defence, his best friend had just moved to South Africa and despite putting a brave face on, we know this had hit him like a steam truck. Is that a reason for behaving as he did? Of course not. But as parents, we need to remember what it’s like to be 14, full of hormones, with the stress of living in such a demanding world.

Anyway, numerous visits to the school (who have been great) and lots of talking have turned things around and we are getting back to some form of normality.

  • We are trying harder
  • We are playing games
  • We are going on days out just the three of us

All of the above may seem obvious. But when our children get older and their own social lives take centre stage, we forget that deep down they are still kids. They still need us and somewhere hidden deep, deep inside, they still want us.

So i’ve learnt a lot this past month about parenting. Mostly, that we are all pretty much making it up as we go along. Yet no matter how hard it gets, those babies, whatever their age, need us more than we could ever imagine.