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.

 

 

We’re getting closer…

Not to having a baby….don’t fret, this isn’t my pregnancy announcement!

Today I had my last pre-treatment blood test. Woohoo.

After I don’t know how many months – about 9 I think, I’m finally done! Most of this is my fault. I’ve had the form in my bag for a month but I just hadn’t got round to making the appointment at the hospital. In fact, its been so long since I’ve been there, they have a new ANPR parking system which was all rather exciting (it’s been a shit week, I’m getting my kicks where I can right now).

I also found out today I don’t have any STDs. What a wonderful day it has been!!

So at 10am next Thursday, I’m due to see my GP again and that’s when we will push the button on the referral – finally!

I guess it’s just the start of another chapter in our quest to have another Child.

(as a side note, I’m on CD23. Though I’m spotty and craving carbs so looks like it’s a normal month for me!) xx

When sex becomes boring…my top tips!

Ok so in ten years I’ve obviously had sex with the hubster quite a lot. Go me. In the last couple of years, we’ve had more sex than id care to mention in the quest for Baby C.

I’ve read loads of stats on the average number of times a week “normal couples” are getting jiggy with it. I’m sure it was three times a week at one point and then once a month in the next article! This sounds great, but obviously these couples were not trying to get pregnant.

So I did some market research of the sex lives of 30 somethings in the area where I live (Ok im a marketer, what I write and the truth are poles apart) – I went to a bar, drank wine and talked about sex with my mates.

This “market research” made me realise a lot of them weren’t having sex as often as I had been led to believe, mainly because of small kids, working long hours etc, but they were all happy with strong relationships and smiles on their faces at the thought of said activity. Did I sit there and think, wow, my relationship is so much better than yours as I’m having sex every other day?!

Did I fuck.

Too much sex is a curse.

I don’t mean that first relationship sex…that’s amazing.

I mean the baby making sex.

You start off still enjoying it…of course you do….mainly because its sex…it’s possibly the one thing you and your boyf/husband/partner/girlf do together that belongs to just you two. You also think you’re amazing at it and will of course get pregnant straight away. Why wouldn’t you? You achieve everything else you want in life.

When sex becomes a chore, you have a problem.

We have that problem.

I’m running out of ideas to keep the hubster interested. Now before the feminists amongst you start screaming at me….I’m fully aware that it takes two to make a baby. But my bit is done. My eggs are there ready and waiting. I don’t have to get my eggs into my husband (please medical science, hurry up lol). I need the hubster. And I need him ready and raring to go.

So from a failing master, here are my top tips to keep it interesting:

  •  Do not think you are Jenna Jameson. Yep I’m old school and she is the best! Apparently men do not like that look from their wives every other day (occasionally is fine though)
  • Tone down the Black/Red lace. I have drawers full of the stuff from our earlier days. Problem is, crotchless knickers are too Jenna Jameson (see above)
  • Wax down the dining table, the coffee table, the wood floor…..you know you want to say over Sunday Lunch with Grandma “oh baby xxx, you were conceived right where the cabbage is..”
  • Throw away your Wednesday pants (we all have that pair of pants that we hope aren’t the ones we are wearing when we get run over by a bus). You do not want to conceive your much longed for child wearing grey undies
  • Get waxed! Sex every other day causes havoc with your skin if you are shaving. You need to prepare yourself for this continuous “insert word” that won’t offend
  • Clear out the car……. babies are not just conceived in the bedroom/dining room. Just be careful of those flashing car lights!
  • Restuarant toilets. I’ll leave that one there
  • It is not a marathon, it’s a sprint. Forget the 90 minute sessions, “go hard and get home”!
  • Forget orgasming…you obviously, not him. If you’re not careful, you’ll have trouble walking most days
  • Refrain from saying “come on then we best get this done”. For obvious reasons, you want to stay married!

Good luck fellow sex addicts. Go forth and multiple #hopefully

Dear Husband

I wish I could give you a medal.

I wish you could fully understand how much I love you.

I wish I could show you just how much I still fancy the pants off you after 10 years.

I wish, more than anything, I could give you the best gift of all.

So, another two-week wait has come to an end. AF arrived on CD29. The bitch. When she didn’t arrive on CD28, I did indulge myself with a pregnancy test. Not because I like putting myself through pain, but we were going to a friends and before I had copious amounts of wine, I thought it best to check. Lord knows why I bothered.

The boy and I were in the supermarket getting some photos printed for his family photo wall. As we walked past the pharmacy I quickly grabbed a test. As we walked out the boy said

“should I get excited?”

I laughed. And then he laughed. It was as if we both knew it would be negative so it was ok to make fun of our inability to make our family any bigger.

So dear husband.

Is been a tough month.

Im sorry the sadness took over most of September.

Im sorry that we wont be giving the boy or our mums the best Christmas present ever.

But we have each other, which is a hell of a lot more than some people close to us have right now.

So we’ll keep trying….we’ll probably keep crying but at least we’ll be doing it all together.

Mwah x