Control

I have decided to take control.  The moment has come when battle must commence and that time is nigh. My middle aged waistline is the enemy and whilst control pants would be the obvious weapon of choice, it is not what I have plumped for and this is in part due to that dark, familiar shadow, called infertility.   Not that I am really complaining: Sometimes, in our journey we are given the chance to glimpse our body's future: namely, how we will react to the menopause  and when we are likely to go through it -  and my prediction wasn't great: Sooner rather than later, which has to be good to know, in a sad  you-are-not-a-normal-body type way.

So I am running - pounding the streets in a regular and progressive way and have been doing so since January, which has impressed me mightily.  I am not a natural born runner - it is not the way I am built: If I say I run with 2 sports bras, you will know what I mean.  But I made the decision that a good dose of a high impact sport was needed in preparation to combat any bone thinning and to keep me feeling young.  I don't have the childcare or the time to join a gym so running was a no-brainer - I could put on my lycra, shoes, bras and just go.  But what has made this into a genuine experience for me is this, a series of free training podcasts that provide the structure for my runs, with all the music and the support of 'Robert' who made them - it is just like running with my own personal trainer: 'Keep going' 'You can do it' 'Are your arms loose?' says my man from Southern California, and my arms and legs duly respond.  Further more, I love it which is a miracle in itself:  From Week One when I was running in one minute stints between walking, I can now run for 25 minutes without stopping and  I have never, ever been able to do that in my life before.  Doing something different, making a difference - it is just so invigorating.

My other decision regarding my health was that I wasn't going to go on a diet - I fundamentally don't believe in them: I don't believe in deprivation and think food is vital for the soul.  What I do believe in eating healthily but would never decline a croissant as I believe they were put on this planet for a purpose.  So I have been curious to see when my exercise would tip the balance into weight loss - and it has started.  Running 25 minutes means I can almost eat what I like - although the comments of my changing shape have started before this which has also proved interesting as I know I haven't been losing weight, but possibly toning and building muscle?  But this summer could prove a good one -  as long as I continue, my bikini will see the light of day again.  Cream cakes and a bikini? This has to be a good call.

Are you singing from the same him sheet?

Our partners.  We think of them as emotional crutches, our foundations, our total support network.  There through thick and thin and always wanting the best.  A partner in crime, a partner for life, one half of a whole.  But is this right?

Maybe partners are battling their own demons.

Maybe they feel guilty: That somehow this is their fault, that it is ultimately their failure to impregnate you and give you, with a snap of their fingers and a loving moment, your hearts desire, especially when it appears that everyone else only has to do this.

Maybe they feel frustration:  It can't be easy to stand on the sidelines watching as a beloved gets more and more upset and starts moving towards more and more invasive tests and treatment.  The emotional and financial costs on fast rising trajectory.

Maybe they feel detachment: Always having to be strong, always having to be the man, always having to watch other men being dads whilst coping with a raging torrent of emotions inside.

Maybe they feel hate: Hate at what this is doing to you, at what it is doing to them, to all the things they hold so dear.

Maybe they feel shock: Male factor infertility is still one of the last taboos where a bad test result can strip a man of his perceived masculinity.  He is now comparing himself to every other men with children and feeling a failure, less of a man, defective and sexually inadequate.  It doesn't matter how you feel about him and his test results - it's about how he's feeling.

Maybe he is feeling remorse, because, just maybe, he thinks he wants this more than you and doesn't want to put you under yet more pressure.

Maybe he doesn't want to be a dad at all and doesn't know how to tell you.

Maybe because he is losing control he wants to run away either physically or mentally.  Men have a very different response to stressful situations - we want to talk, they want to hide in a cave till they can come up with a practical solution, even if that solution means giving up on trying to conceive, because just making that decision gives the back a sense of control.

Who knows, perhaps there is even resentment.

Anger, disbelief, denial. devastation, injustice and inadequacy.  These are all normal feelings but who can he discuss the situation with? You? You are the obvious person  - but you are already low because of this, so chances are these undiscussed feelings become just another pink elephant in the corner.  Who else can he talk to without fear of being misunderstood? everything that he has taken for granted, his personal identity, family, his marriage even, now seem insecure and at risk: Not easy subjects  to open up to over a pint and a packet of crisps.

The truth is infertility is a medical condition not a personal decision or a personal failing.

What needs to happen is to take each emotion - the anger, the resentment, the frustration - and direct it in the correct way - not to a partner, but to the situation.  These feelings are normal - it's what you do with them that matters.

Talk: This can be easier for women than men and has to be done in a safe way, if need be, find a good infertility counsellor, but the bottom line is that it is OK to feel out of control and full of fear.

Plan: Thrash out what you are both prepared to do, what infertility treatments, how many rounds, where and what price.  Know where each of you stand and where your stumbling blocks are: I always thought that if fertility treatment didn't work for me there would always be the adoption route: it was my safety net.  It was only when my daughter was born that my husband admitted his concerns about adoption and I was truly shocked:  I don't know how I would have behaved if he had suddenly said he wasn't happy with adoption if  we were already travelling down that route.  Communication is a must.

Decide: You need to work out together how you are going to handle certain situations, like holidays and people.  Are you going to be open? or not?  Do you want to be around families at Christmas or would you prefer to leave the country? Plan ahead and stick to your guns.

Accept: You are two different people with two different attitudes and when one is up, it doesn't mean the other is and vice versa.

The only failure here and in life is a failure to love: to love your partner, no matter what, to love your life, to love yourself.  Ultimately what this all means is you can honestly say you loved and stayed strong for each other through the hardest of circumstances, and that you both loved and would  have moved heaven and earth for your children, before they were even conceived, let alone born.

Little update

I had hoped to write a post for this week - there is one lurking up my sleeve on what this might all feel like for partners, but I have been rather side-tracked by the 'ICLW' week on my other Blog, the poetry one - to get to my official ICLW blog click here  but you are absolutely and more than welcome to have a browse around this one which is a mixture of infertility and the odd family post, for instance  I know a big subject on ICLW this month has been whether or not to tell people what is happening, so this post may appeal: in Jan 10 there is 'To tell or not to tell that is the question'.  ICLW is rather like a Blog party where you join a list and agree to visit 6 different Blogs every day leaving comments.  ICLW has been enlightening, amusing, heart-breaking and thoroughly engaging and I recommend anyone to make their way to the list for a browse.  Go Here  ( Ooh er - first time I have actually managed to do a link within a post.  Sigh) You will see the purple box on the right hand side - click on that and it will take you there.  I would direct you straight there, but I can't remember the address without it being written down, so bare with me.  All I can say is that it will be worth the trip and you will be able to see for yourselves why it is so time and emotion consuming.  And illustrates just how many brilliant Blogs there are out there.

A long time...

No posting.  Life has been getting in the way: A very active Charlie, falling out of the rhythm of writing - falling out of the rhythm of finding the time and before I know it, half a year has gone by.  This little post is to say, bigger posts are on the way: a bigger plan is on the way...through my profile you will be able to see there is another Blog up and nearly running called 'Songs for my Unborn Children', the title of my infertility poetry.  I have decided to grab the bulls by the horns and publish via a Blog the complete volume.

My reasons are simple:  I didn't write the poems for commercial reasons, I wrote them both to salve my pain and to describe to those who didn't know the emotional, physical and social impact of infertility.  So now, rather them have the poems sitting gathering dust in a cupboard, I would like them to reach an audience  - to reach the people who don't always have a voice because sometimes, when you are in the thick of infertility, you just can't say these things out loud.  But when someone does say the difficult things it hits such a chord and you think yes - that's exactly it, and the relief of recognition is enormous.  And thats what I hope the poems will do.

Bit of a hunt

Just posted a post, but it seems to have slipped down the list: Check down the list for 'Is it positive to be positive?'

LIttle Charlie x

Today is my Charlie's first birthday. My little baby is one today, bless him.

It really makes you think: about this day last year, how tiny he was, how much better a c-section was, what a true miracle he is and just how lucky I am to be able to write ' love Mummy' in his card.

This day has far more relevance for me than for him. He is far too busy playing with bits of wrapping paper and cardboard boxes.

Bows, rows and boatnecks

I have worked out there is a fifth and final stage of sleep deprivation: You sleep. Genuinely sleep. And wake up feeling worse.

Why? Tell me why??

Is it because something in your body knows you will never ever be able to catch up ever again?

It just seems and feels so very cruel.

It also seems cruel that I have a beautiful daughter to dress who doesn't want to wear any of the beautiful clothes I have bought her. I knew I would face this one day, but I hadn't appreciated quite how much it would gall me. Or that it would be this soon.

We have been having rows every morning. I lay out her clothes. She says no. I say yes. She says no. I say yes or no nursery: Shoot. Self. Foot. Again.

Mostly I win. Eventually.

But yesterday I decided I needed to take a step back and view this as an opportunity to encourage Bella's natural creativity and embrace her ability to express herself through her clothes as her own special little self.

I let her choose her outfit. She picked a hooded pink fleece, cherise leggings and a pair of Crocs.

Not a pintuck or peterpan collar in sight. No liberty print. No Gingham. No jaunty three-quater length jeans with a swinging sailor top and little pumps. A sweatshirt, leggings and...Crocs. the sweatshirt did not cover her saggy bottom (her bottom isn't saggy per se, it's just it's on the small side and the leggings are) and her legs looked stick thin, particulalry with the huge crocs on the end. I keep telling her - you wear Crocs with loose three quarter length trousers, if at all. But worst of all, my three year old daughter was a hoody who thought she looked 'cool'.

Suffice to say, the experiment will not be repeated until she has firmly understood what cool is: So not for at least another thirty years.

For now, I fear there is only one course of action open to me: I am bribing her with chocolate.