IVF 7 – a last hoorah

Kiki Green - 8 Jan 18

I’ve got unfinished business… so I’m having a final fling.

With IVF. Actually, donor egg IVF.

I’m trying to give my daughter a sibling to make my husband and I parents of two.

It’s my seventh attempt. Our wonderful, funny, feisty and smart little girl was the result of our third go, four years ago.

I’m trying, really trying, to write the fairy tale ending by remaining calm, happy, hopeful and accepting of the fact I have absolutely no control whatsoever.

Accepting of the unfairness and yet the reality of why I find myself here.

The devastating diagnosis six years ago of my premature ovarian failure, before my husband and I had ever reached the trying for a baby stage.

It was wholly gutting – the pain, anguish and grief extreme.

But in set my determination and within six months of diagnosis I began to embark on my donor egg IVF journey with twists and turns on the way.

I didn’t think I’d still be on that rollercoaster ride all these years and tries later. I’ve always hated rollercoasters.

As thankful as I am for the science that made it possible and my total all encompassing gratitude to my donor(s) I also have grown to loathe the reality of the IVF cycle.

The hope/disappointment cycle, the steroids turning me into a pumped up edgy version of me, someone I don’t recognise.

The high dose hormones messing up
my skin, me aware of them coursing around my body exposing me to goodness knows what risk later in life.

The mental struggle while pumped up on a cocktail of around 14 doses of drugs a day including blood thinning injections I stick into my belly leaving it bruised a dark aubergine colour.

It’s not fun. It’s really fucking hard.
It’s given me PTSD all this.

A big trigger that brought back a lot of anxiety was as IVF 7 approached. I thought I’d just plod through it. I didn’t – I hit a stumbling block.

I was also hit with a horrendous sinus infection that left me in tatters physically at the same time I was having a real PTSD wobble on my IVF tightrope.

Flying in the face of my determination, my mind and body completely at odds with each other, I had to call the clinic and press pause at the start of our final fresh cycle, at the risk of losing the donor we’d waited a year for.

The plan to rest for three months and go again – amazingly our donor agreed to wait – understanding I was unwell.

So I worked on my anxiety and PTSD with yet more counselling and acupuncture.

Here we are. A New Year – a final roll of the dice.

I’m working on my mental approach as one of a serene and calm acceptance instead of a cynical, negative baggage carrying ghost of myself.

While I’ll always have the baggage of loss and pain that came with my infertility journey – I go into my last hurrah with some hope.

What will be will be. This time next month I’ll know.

It’s scary – it’s real. But I will do my damned hardest to remain that calm and happy person.

The easiest way to get through this would be to put me to sleep for a month, have people administer my drugs and wake me up with the result one way or another.

I really want it to work.

If it doesn’t, I’ll be OK…. eventually.
I’m one of the lucky ones.

But I do feel insane for repeatedly putting myself through this.

The end is in sight.

Today I had my intralipid drip – designed to quell my natural killer cells and increase our chances.

The knock at the door that just interrupted my flow was a man delivering more drugs. Here we go.

I have utmost respect and empathy for anyone who has struggled with fertility in any way, anyone who has lost, or is still on the IVF rollercoaster.

I’m with you. We’re stronger together.

Kiki Green

36 - mum of one post premature menopause thanks to a lovely donor! Currently a full time mummy to my daughter - would love a sibling for her, formerly in TV, radio and comms. Future??? Loves chocolate a g&t and to laugh!

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