People who know us, and who know that conception took us a while, or who were privvy to my anguish at the time, seem to feel the need to apologise to us if they, or whoever we are talking about, conceived quickly, or by accident.
There is no need for them to apologise of course. Expecting a baby is a wonderful thing, and even at my lowest or most tearful I never begrudged other people this happiness. After all, as I would always say to friends, it is not as if there is a limited number of babies allowed and them having one minimises our chances of having one.
Not that it wasn't difficult of course. At times I would summon all my courage and sense of what is right to raise a glass to someone's news or give them a celebratory hug, and then go home and howl. But I have never wanted anyone else to go through the months and months of disappointment and upset that we did.
So how should you tell someone who has experienced difficulty conceiving that you are pregnant? Everyone is different of course but my advice is this. Do it matter of factly without beating around the bush. Don't apologise for it but don't gloat either. Above all don't say "I guess we must just be super-fertile" as this is not what someone worried about their fertility wants to hear. But don't hide your happiness either - people trying to conceive are trying because they want babies and think having children is a great thing and as such want you to be happy about your own fortune in this matter. And if you can, tell them by phone or email or alone and then give them a little space so they can wrestle their own sadness away in private and compose their face and their feelings so that they can then be appropriate to you. And when they say congratulations, please believe them. They may be sad about their situation but their joy for you is genuine.
Related post: What I really want
Showing posts with label Fertility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fertility. Show all posts
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Monday, 12 September 2011
My osteopath got me pregnant
I have told this story to so many people that I've decided the easiest thing to do now is blog about it and send the link to anyone who asks, rather than write it out every time. It comes with a health warning though as I don't wish to peddle snake oil, and I'd hate to give any credence to alternative therapies such as homeopathy, reiki, aromatherapy or any other laying on of hands. As Tim Minchin says in his song about 'alternative medicine', if it worked it would just be called 'medicine'. And it may have just been co-incidence and that our time had come, but the usually rational, sceptical me really believes that osteopathy got me pregnant. There, I've said it. May Hippocrates strike me down (only for me too be revived by some water with a memory of some passing lavender but no memory of all the shit and piss that passed through it).
When we had been trying to conceive for a couple of years, after medical investigations had found no major reason for this and before fertility treatment had commenced, I slipped over on ice and hurt my shoulder. I decided to get it sorted out by an osteopath and rang a practice I had used before for a previous injury. The osteopath I had seen then no longer worked there but another did and I booked in to see him.
On the day of my appointment I had terrible period pains. I got these every month - the crippling distracting awful pain would last for about four hours and a lesser version would hang around all day. It started just before I left the house but determined to get my shoulder sorted I made a hot water bottle, shoved it in the back of my skirt and got the bus. I may have looked ridiculous but bus passengers in their jim-jams are not an unusual sight round here so a hot water bottle barely raises an eyebrow.
The osteopath worked on my shoulder then asked about the hot water bottle. I explained and he said he could fix that too. He did something to my back, higher up than the pain, and the pain disappeared instantly. I was so impressed I asked him about fertility. He felt my back again. Of course you're not conceiving, he said, you're all blocked up and your body won't conceive until it is helped to fix itself, or words to that effect.
My period pain came back a couple of hours later, on one side only. The next week I had another appointment for my shoulder. I told him about the returning period pain and he felt my back, agreed that one side still felt 'blocked', and did something more to my back. I am a sceptic - of course he said one side was blocked, I thought, because I told him the pain had come back on one side, like the guesses of a dodgy psychic.
I had another period. The pain was minimal - about 90% better. If nothing else comes from the treatment, a fixed shoulder and a 90% better period pain is enough I thought. But encouraged by the amazing improvement in the period pain I went back one more time. The osteopath did something else to my back. I think you'll be ok now, he said. He was right - that month I conceived.
It may be coincidence. It may be that at over two years we are just one of those couples whose stats combine with people who conceive first try to bring the national average to about a year. But actually, much as I am loathe to sound new agey, much as I promise I don't own a single crystal and am not interested in the colour of my aura, I really think that osteopathy got me pregnant, or as I no doubt annoyingly like to say to my husband, my osteopath* got me up the duff.
(*You can email me on goodynuffmum at gmail dot com if you want his details)
When we had been trying to conceive for a couple of years, after medical investigations had found no major reason for this and before fertility treatment had commenced, I slipped over on ice and hurt my shoulder. I decided to get it sorted out by an osteopath and rang a practice I had used before for a previous injury. The osteopath I had seen then no longer worked there but another did and I booked in to see him.
On the day of my appointment I had terrible period pains. I got these every month - the crippling distracting awful pain would last for about four hours and a lesser version would hang around all day. It started just before I left the house but determined to get my shoulder sorted I made a hot water bottle, shoved it in the back of my skirt and got the bus. I may have looked ridiculous but bus passengers in their jim-jams are not an unusual sight round here so a hot water bottle barely raises an eyebrow.
The osteopath worked on my shoulder then asked about the hot water bottle. I explained and he said he could fix that too. He did something to my back, higher up than the pain, and the pain disappeared instantly. I was so impressed I asked him about fertility. He felt my back again. Of course you're not conceiving, he said, you're all blocked up and your body won't conceive until it is helped to fix itself, or words to that effect.
My period pain came back a couple of hours later, on one side only. The next week I had another appointment for my shoulder. I told him about the returning period pain and he felt my back, agreed that one side still felt 'blocked', and did something more to my back. I am a sceptic - of course he said one side was blocked, I thought, because I told him the pain had come back on one side, like the guesses of a dodgy psychic.
I had another period. The pain was minimal - about 90% better. If nothing else comes from the treatment, a fixed shoulder and a 90% better period pain is enough I thought. But encouraged by the amazing improvement in the period pain I went back one more time. The osteopath did something else to my back. I think you'll be ok now, he said. He was right - that month I conceived.
It may be coincidence. It may be that at over two years we are just one of those couples whose stats combine with people who conceive first try to bring the national average to about a year. But actually, much as I am loathe to sound new agey, much as I promise I don't own a single crystal and am not interested in the colour of my aura, I really think that osteopathy got me pregnant, or as I no doubt annoyingly like to say to my husband, my osteopath* got me up the duff.
(*You can email me on goodynuffmum at gmail dot com if you want his details)
Saturday, 20 August 2011
What I really want
When we were trying to have a baby, and it was taking rather a long time, we had an appointment with a doctor who, having analysed my blood tests and hormone levels and prodded and poked, asked me what I wanted to get out of the appointment. "A baby" I said simply. He looked taken aback - I think he wanted me to say clomid (a fertility drug) or ivf or something medical. But it was true - I desperately, primally, wanted a baby, and I thought I was being both clever and honest in saying that was what I wanted.
Now I have my daughter however I realise that having a baby is not the endpoint, it is the beginning. No, what I want is not a baby, but a baby who then grows into a toddler then a little girl, then a bigger girl. I want her to be a teenager then a young woman. I want her to be a mum, to be a middle aged woman, to be a grandma and to be old. When the doctor asked me what I wanted from that appointment I might as well have said I want to be a grandma one day. See, turns out not just that I wanted baby, but that I wanted to begat generations.
None of which is fair to the baby of course. She may make choices or have choices thrust upon her that mean she doesn't have children, or that her children don't have children. She might emigrate to the other side of the world. She might decide to cease contact with me. The moment she became herself and not an abstract want on my part, was the moment those decisions became no longer anything to do with me.
But although they will not be my decisions, I hope she follows the rule my parents taught me, that we cannot hope for a moment to repay our parents for the love and (emotional and material) support they give us, but we can repay them by doing the same for our own children. I hope we bring our baby up with family at the heart of her life, and a happy childhood she will want to replicate for her children. All of which was a little too complicated to tell the doctor of course.
Now I have my daughter however I realise that having a baby is not the endpoint, it is the beginning. No, what I want is not a baby, but a baby who then grows into a toddler then a little girl, then a bigger girl. I want her to be a teenager then a young woman. I want her to be a mum, to be a middle aged woman, to be a grandma and to be old. When the doctor asked me what I wanted from that appointment I might as well have said I want to be a grandma one day. See, turns out not just that I wanted baby, but that I wanted to begat generations.
None of which is fair to the baby of course. She may make choices or have choices thrust upon her that mean she doesn't have children, or that her children don't have children. She might emigrate to the other side of the world. She might decide to cease contact with me. The moment she became herself and not an abstract want on my part, was the moment those decisions became no longer anything to do with me.
But although they will not be my decisions, I hope she follows the rule my parents taught me, that we cannot hope for a moment to repay our parents for the love and (emotional and material) support they give us, but we can repay them by doing the same for our own children. I hope we bring our baby up with family at the heart of her life, and a happy childhood she will want to replicate for her children. All of which was a little too complicated to tell the doctor of course.
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