Ding ding, Round 2! I sometimes wonder if people would be less inclined to question my childless status if I had a ring girl following me around with what stage of IVF I was in.
Round 1 – Awaiting transfer. Relatively calm. Preparing for her next move.
Round 2 – 2dpt. Waiting impatiently to pee on a stick. Stay the f**k away.
I find it funny how people react when I tell them I’m having IVF. Their reactions can usually be grouped in to 3 sections:
Pity Party – “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Is it you that has the problem? Your husband? Oh my, that’s such a shame. You poor thing. So brave.” (Listen, I’ve woken my husband from a very sound sleep on more than one occasion to get rid of a spider who was doing nothing but minding his own business. I am NOT brave.)
It’s All Relative – My personal favourite. “Oh my aunt/cousin/bridesmaid/boss/cleaners 3rd cousin twice removed dog walkers boyfriends sister went through IVF. Hers never worked but I’m sure you’ll be just fiiiiiiine” You don’t need to prove to me that you understand the process because you know someone that went through it (trust me, it’s not the same) and if you don’t have a story with a positive outcome – don’t bloody tell me it! (Where’s my ring girl when I need her?)
Is there a doctor in the house? – It appears there is yes. Or they MUST have studied for at least a few years otherwise surely they wouldn’t be giving out this invaluable medical advice? “It’s because you’re stressed. You should relax and then it’ll work”. “It’s too much pressure”. Gee. Thanks Doc. Problem solved. Because that’s what they think I have. A problem. A problem that every Tom, Dick and grossly unqualified Harry like to try and fix.
A problem is defined as a harmful situation that needs to be dealt with. That is not what I have. I prefer the term ‘hiccup’. A temporary setback. That’s all it is.
Because I know this won’t be forever.