You know it will be hard? …
Today I went to the doctors to start this long process. I was terrified. I don’t know why, I don’t know what I thought she was going to say (oddly I requested a woman as I felt embarrassed to tell a male doctor … totally irrational!) but I felt exposed and scared that she could put a halt to this on Day 1.
It was roughly one thousand degrees last night so I didn’t sleep. I wouldn’t have slept anyway. I am a seriously good sleeper, usually. Head hits pillow, I wake up 8 hours later. However if there is anything on my mind then I catastrophise like everyone else and sleep disappears. Such was last night; hot sticky body, busy muddled mind. I clearly did fall asleep though as I woke with the most incredible pillow scars ever.
I wanted to go to the doctor looking like someone who would cope with being a single mother by choice,(not someone who 2 hours after my appointment would turn up to a client meeting with a bulldog clip keeping her shoes together!) I wanted to make a good impression, pillow scars and hair like Steven Tyler was not what I was going for! It, inexplicably, felt like a job interview. I had prepared the answers to the questions I thought would be asked and this time I KNEW the answer to ‘where do you want to be in ten years time?’ I want to be at my child’s Sports Day. I wanted to be making plans for the school holidays. I want the house to be noisy. I want to be so tired I feel like I am hallucinating.
I wait in the incredible reception (seriously it is a gorgeous!) and sweat. A handsome child comes out of the doctors area and call his next patient. Seriously he was so young. I suddenly feel really old, too old to even start this. Doctors are MUCH younger than me, I really do need to start my family! My doctor calls me in, via the receptionist. I walk for miles to her room, tripping over my own feet, counting the requisite number of doors as instructed.
She has a kind face, thank god. I am obsessed with kind faces, some people just don’t have them and I instinctively don’t trust them! I sit down and go in to full chat mode. I am a chatter. I get nervous and I chat (unless I am at a party where I don’t know anyone, then I become mute and head to the kitchen to be ‘helpful.’) I warn her that I am going to cry. I cry at adverts, of course I am going to cry when asking Santa Claus what I really, really want because I have been a good girl this year. On cue I burst in to tears. I tell her that there is nothing wrong, I am going to tell her something great.
Sputtering, I eventually blurt out,’I want a baby, I need sperm!’ Thankfully she laughed. She didn’t send me to the Naughty Step to think about what I had said. She said, ‘Of course you do, your are 37, lets get on with it.’ I must have visibly relaxed in the overly waxed seat, (my nails had managed to dig half a cm down in the previous minute) I felt like she had just approved me. Like the notion of me becoming a Mum wasn’t the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. She seemed excited. We talked about my weight. She told me about a diet that didn’t include vegetables for two weeks?!? I politely declined and said I was going to join Slimming World and see how that went. She told me that every half stone I lost the better my chances were. I knew this. I know this. I am on it! I should have been on it before. I know.
-You know it is going to be hard, really hard?’
-Yes, yes I know. I have been surrounded by children since I was 13. I have often wanted to give them back! I know it feels different when they are yours. I am not saying you still might not want to give them back from time to time! But I know that everything is going to change. Everything.
-You know it is going to cost thousands? You should just go and have sex with someone.
-OF COURSE I SHOULD! But that clearly isn’t working out, so this is my route. The route that I am going to have to make right for me.
-Right well, lets book you in for some bloods.
She checks my recent history and sees that I have been checked for PCOS & Diabetes in the last year. No sign. She sees my cholesterol is really low (apparently a modern miracle for someone who eats!) and can see no obvious reasons why I shouldn’t look into it further at this stage. I feel sick. I know that she literally cannot tell if I am fertile from looking a tests for another disease, but I feel encouraged. There wasn’t a ‘oh, wait you broke your nose in the 90’s? No babies for you’ She just told me at what point in my cycle I needed my bloods taken and that I should take it from there.
Step 1 of a million, taken. No roadblocks. Not yet.
Photo: This is the reception of my doctors. The amazing sky light. Oddly, its roundness has turned egg shaped, as if to remind me why I am here!
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