Sooooo.  That’s going to be the code, I think, for all future posts about pregnancy.  Not so much a code but a warning, I guess.  Because I know that this blog means different things to each of you and to me.  The book reviews, the food reviews, the travel, the shopping, the riveting details of my everyday life captured for posterity with those unforgettable photographs stills (that sounds so much more ‘photojournalism’)…

But for others of you, the posts about pregnancy and infertility may resonate more.  Pregnancy and infertility.  Two words that have been dwelling on my mind more than they should given the amount of sadness and pain that they have caused.  Given their prominence in my world right now, how could I not blog about them.  I hope it’s a two way street.  That the writing that helps me deal with them could perhaps help even one of you feel less alone in all of this at the same time.

Probably best for me to not try and over explain but I just wanted a way of identifying these posts from the others to give everyone fair warning. Feel free to comment or email if you feel it’s all getting into over sharing and overly hormonal territory.  Much appreciated.

Okay.  So I’d better follow protocol.

Soooooo.

Here I am.  The Trying Times are behind me and it is now Time To Try (Again).  Isn’t the passage of time a beautiful thing?  It must be the mind’s Photo Shop or Blemish Balm.  It smoothes over the sharp edges and casts a warm glow over even the ugliest times.  Then again, it could have been all those holidays and the resultant shifts in time zone.  However it happened, the past is now in its place and all that remains is now and the future.

I’ve written previously about my apprehension at trying again by whatever means.  Since the Trying Times, I’ve been alternating between realism (cynicism) and hope (thank you my beautiful family and friends and inspiring library of self help books). The realist wears comfort flats and dwells on the fact that success rates per cycle are not a rolled gold 100%.  The high heeled hoper on the other hand is confident that at the end of the day, statistics are just numbers (and that if you wear heels with everything, your legs really do look longer and your hips leaner).

Today, it’s hard to not look at the next few weeks as an adventure.  I am starting my first IVF cycle with all its attendant blood tests, injections and ultrasounds.  There are some things even I wouldn’t make you suffer through and a happy snap of the kit from the clinic is one of those.

Even with a glass of wine on the kitchen table, there is no disguising:

1. The number of needles involved, they do look small though.  Practically invisible – without my glasses on.  But this may not be the best injecting technique.
2. The fact that it’s not just a matter of stabbing somewhere and hoping for the best, I have to dial up a dose … somehow and mix stuff up without letting any air in.  Seriously, why is there no app for this?!?!?
3. How yellow sharps containers really are, you never really notice it at work but in someone’s kitchen, it really is hard to miss and somehow incongruous.  I don’t think anything KitchenAid could compete.  
4. The fun times to be had at work next week whilst under the influence of The Hormones.  What better time to try and conquer my pituitary axis then the week of some major interviews?

Who really knows what the next few weeks will bring?  I can hope and then I can reflect upon my track record.  Or I can do neither and simply be in the moment.  And not exhaust myself and make an intense time any more draining than it has to be.

I’m hoping that all of this won’t be too disruptive to everything else going on in my life but if I’m away from the blog for a while, you’ll know why.

Take care and have a lovely weekend,