Image: The Young Mummy.
I’ve just walked in from the doctors. With a heavy heart, I walked inside to my husband who made me only cry more with the generous hug he gave me. He held me for a long time, but it still doesn’t seem like long enough. Today I am again deflated. Today I am again mentally exhausted. Today, my doctor said to me those two words: fertility treatment.
I have been wanting to write about my journey of getting pregnant a second time for a while now. I feel that I’ve shared every little detail with you all throughout my TYM journey thus far, so why not this? But something kept stopping me. Was I embarrassed? Was I ashamed to admit that we were having troubles?
We had decided not to tell a single soul when we started trying in the second half of last year, and as a couple we wanted to maintain that privacy so we could surprise our families & friends so much when the joyful news came. I very recently confided in Jaryd’s Stepmum by telling her we’d be trying for four months.
A shameful lie. Another reason I’ve put off writing about this is because part of me maintained hope, and I thought “Na, don’t write that now, because I’ll definitely get pregnant next month and then I’ll look silly!” As the months passed, how wrong was I? (WATCH: Jessica Rowe speaks about her experience with IVF. Post continues after video.)
Top Comments
Your words resonated with me so much, thank you for sharing. We're 8 months trying and I agree, there's so many others who have had it so much harder, but we all run our own race and the monthly disappointment is simply palpable... There is a sad sort of comfort that others feel the same I think x Thank you again...