London Southern Belle

much too tired to write something clever

Sunshine.

This is one aspect of living in America that I took for granted for many years and miss dearly since my move to the UK. Of course, the sun shines here, just not as often or for as long as I would like. I found myself racing home yesterday after work to retrieve handsome man 'o mine from the train station and hurriedly making our way home to catch some rays from our back garden.  Keys down, work clothes off, sunglasses, magazines and folding lounge chairs out - and for an entire hour we basked in the sun. It was glorious.

Today is overcast with strands of sunshine at times however, the sun is trailing in the distance as I type. Luckily, I have the day off and a much needed morning stroll along the high-street and a stop for Starbucks coffee was a priority. It is a all a part of my 'stress free before IVF treatment' plan.  I'm heading out again for some much needed stress free shopping in a few. Ok, so I don't really need an excuse to shop.

Speaking of stress free, we leave for Czech Republic next month to meet my lovely fertility doctor and have some routine tests.  It is quickly approaching and hard to believe that September is just around the corner. I am more excited than ever.

Last weekend my good friend Rach and I completed a 5k cancer research run. It was amazing and I know my Aunt Millie would have been proud. It was a surreal experience as it has been for the last three years I have taken part. It feels good to know I have made such a positive contribution to a terrific cause. I wish I had gotten involved years ago.

May the sun shine on you today!

I couldn't find a post-it

Dear 2008,

Hi, I’m Amanda. How are you?

I’m pleased to have met you and thank you for gladly welcoming me into a new year of life and adventure. Now that introductions are out of the way may I make one request? If you happen to see 2007 could you take this time to wind up your classy new Nine West boot and swiftly kick 2007 between the legs? 

You didn’t think I would pay that much on a pair of boots just to be trendy, now did you?

While I may revel in a few key points that 2007 graciously brought, the trials I faced could have been left out.  Thank you very much. But, 2007 decided to test me continually. Yes, I was able to visit Paris on two occasions, once with my parents  -which was a.maz.ing. Yes,  I managed to get through my first year of teaching at college level and completed a year of my graduate course through Greenwich University in London amongst other adventures.  It is true that 2007 pulled out a few stops throughout the year but, on the down side it also revealed something more devastating than anything I have experienced thus far. It opened its filthy drenched trench coat and waggled its tackle at me.  Hey, if you get to wear £450 boots, then I can make 2007 wear a greasy trench. Yes, 2007 has a lot of explaining to do.

Shall I stop there? I think I shall. Not.

2008, it is time for wheelin' & dealin’. No more baby roulette. I’m here to make a few deals with you and you must comply. After all, I’m good to this ole’ life that you throw at me from time to time. Lucky for me, I played softball as a youngster. I gently take the good with the bad (with tears and tantrums in between, but I’m human – and female! I'm menopausal, too! Remember when 1997 decided to break my plumbing!) Later this year, is my first IVF treatment. There my name sits, politely poised on a fertility clinic’s reception book – appointment for 2-3 little delicate embryos to be placed within this body of mine. If you can keep our little embies warm and happy so at least one of them becomes a baby of our own (we certainly would not mind if two decided to stay!) Handsome man ‘o mine are not choosey in the sex of our miracle(s) so you may choose yourself.

Do you feel privileged? Well, you should.

You are probably asking yourself, “What’s in it for me?”  The deal is if you go easy on the negativity of my year, I’ll go easy on your groin when 2009 rolls in. If that is not enough for you to be good to me, I do not know what is. Yes, I’m just that generous.

So as you can see for yourself (*ahem* take off the rose coloured glasses, will you?) 2007 left behind quite the mess. I am expecting you to get out your lovely feather trimmed pink rubber gloves and get to work. And, just like I have mentioned to handsome man ‘o mine, 2008 is the year of no 'tutting' (you know that sound he makes when he is annoyed and it sound s as if he is kissing his two front teeth? ah, yes, that noise). That goes for you, too. No huffing, no puffing, no wining, no crying. It’s go time. Make it happen.

 

Kindness,

Amanda

PS- You know what would be fantastic? If those of you (ALL 175!) that emailed me for the password to my blog once it went private would comment! I would love to hear from you! De-lurk in 2008 and show some love!

 

Something new

I shall continue to update this site as much as time allows but also have a new place to discuss our journey to having a child. I wanted a place to express my feelings through our journey of IVF in its entirety. If you want to mosey over here feel free to.

My life. My dreams. Our journey.

We are four months shy of a year passing since the day handsome man o’ mine and I decided to add to our family of two by adopting a child. The day we decided to add to our family of two is incredibly vivid and the emotions of excitement and nervousness nearly overcome my soul as I attempt to put those feelings into writing.   We just knew that we were ready to become parents. Knowing how we would overcome infertility to make this happen has always been uncertain – it is the words “faith” and “just try” that play in my mind the most. 

Already, this has been such a long journey. I first embarked when I found out at what I thought was the ripe age of seventeen that I would not be able to conceive a child. Most girls of my age were sketching future names of children in their diaries while I was simply realising the cause of my extreme night sweats. I never thought I would understand the menopausal conversations of women three times my age were engaging in over coffee. I winced as boyfriends that fantasised of strapping young lads to carry on the family name. In my heart, I held a breaking secret – a secret that I felt would hinder most relationships throughout my young adult life --Relationships with men that looked forward to a child ‘carrying the family name’.  Handsome man ‘o mine never batted an eyelash at the news of my disappointment. His thoughtful encouragement shone through from the very beginning. He has been my ray of light through this battle.  It is the one thing that keeps my spirits high and gives me hope from day to day. He is the one reason why I have come to realise that our lives together and everything that encompasses our lives together is not just special—it is ours. No matter the obstacles we face - we do it together.

The point we have reached in our own relationship has never been an easy journey. We work for every step we take and have come to expect that everything comes with a price. That is no different with starting a family of our own. Ten months ago, we felt adoption was the right way forward in making our dream a reality. However, that journey has ended for us. There is heartache and numbness but a certain peace has found its way to my heart. There is still a glimpse of hope.  So many factors play into our decision and factors contributing that are out of our control but as a friend whispered to me on yesterday,   

“Only you two can make that decision. The one that is right for you two,” 

The decision to add to our family the way we most feel comfortable; the way that is meant for us. I now look back to years of my own fertility treatment research and we make final decisions of where and when it will all take place. It is a must. We must 'just try.' Due to my condition (Premature Ovarian Failure or sometimes referred to Premature Menopause) my ovaries do not produce eggs therefore; an egg donor is necessary. A law has been passed in the UK that egg donors are no longer anonymous causing the waiting list for a donor to be nearly five years.   

We are taking recommendations from two friends that have experienced IVF treatment with an egg donor in Valencia, Spain using fertility clinic IVI. There are no waiting lists (unless the couple seeks a blonde hair, blue eyed donor) and after the first assessment, the procedure occurs almost immediately.  The clincher is costs. Like adoption in the USA, it is very expensive and we will have to come up with a very large lump sum for the procedure. There are no doubts in our minds that it will be worth every penny –yet, as expected – it is all quite daunting. 

For now, we take this one day at a time. Pray relentlessly and try to focus on life until the time comes for treatment. We will ‘pinch pennies’ and research pros and cons in order to prepare ourselves the best we can.   

I cannot help but think that starting a family shouldn’t be this hard but at the same time, I try to stay strong knowing that at some point, somehow we will have a family.   

Someday. Until then, the excitement of becoming a mother subsides and we wait. 

 

Snot and baby bambinos

 

I am still horribly sick. Eight days of sneezing, coughing and body aching is ridiculous. My upper respiratory infection turned bronchitis turned sinus headache turned migraine is vastly approaching a gun to the head. There must be a serious malfunction in my immune system.

Today, Darren and I went to the local maternity hospital ward to discuss the size of my ovaries and fertility options. Turns out one of my ovaries is small however, Doctor Banjo (his name is Banerjee, however my husband resorts to Banjo instead) did not seemed worried about the smaller ovary. Also, nothing abnormal was found concerning my womb. Just maybe it is durable to house a baby bambino for nine months.

The bad news. The National Health Services in the UK will pay for two IVF treatments as long as the couple does not mind going on a 2-3 year waiting list. Yippeeee, we say! That does not apply to us. Because my ovaries do not produce eggs and I need an egg donor, that does not come under the "free" treatment. Thus, forking (and possibly spooning) money out of our own pockets. All day long, I spotted mums-to-be and all I could do was point and mumble, "I bet her bump was free."  Why do we have to pay for a bump...?  Nonetheless, I think I will add a Paypal link where we can take donations. Do you think readers will help pay for our IVF treatment? We could have bake sales, pig races and sell tins of popcorn all in the name of "Our baby test tube bambino."  Better yet, "Bucks for Baby." *Ahem* Sorry, "British Pounds for Baby" just doesn't have a ring to it.

Today was a bit of a downer. Four months of waiting for hopeful news, getting on the IVF waiting list (which will now not happen) and getting a referral to a fertility clinic and all we got was, "See you in four months for a blood sample. Off you go," and we were leaving the maternity ward with our feet dragging and our heads down. We didn't even get sprinkled with baby dust on our way out. And there sat women with their husbands, boyfriends, milkman, postman ...etc. all expecting babies; with bulging tummies, sweaty brows and swollen ankles and for once I wanted to feel and look exactly as they did.

"I want a baby," I whisper as we walk to the car. "I do too," my husband answers. I hear the dissapointment in his voice and I try and ignore the lump in my throat.

Our dream seems so very far away. My tears are a confirmation.

Unfortunate Answered Prayers

My parents never sat me down and discussed the "birds & bees" with me from what I can recall. There was a bookcase in the downstairs living room overflowing with volumes of books. Not dusty, untouched ones, for my mother seemed to keep her books to good use on a regular basis. Each one was read with care, maintaining their glossy covers and crispness.

I remember one book in particular. It was a bit smaller than the rest and cappuccino in colour. For years, I wasn't tall enough to reach it. However, one afternoon after being left alone in the house, curiosity got the best of my innocent spirit. I had managed to hoist myself up toward the towering bookcase, barely grasping the bind of the book with my tiny pink fingertips. It descended to the floor and the crash echoed throughout the house. There I dangled, gripping the giant ledged book refuge made of oak, begging to be spared of my own life. I was clawing the wood with my flimsy nails as if I were an alley cat escaping a nipping canine bite.

The small book laid on the floor open in plain view with the words, "SEXUAL REPRODUCTION" in large bold letters. I immediately recognised the first three letters however, the rest I had trouble sounding out. The first three letters, S E X were often fingered through the foggy condensation on the school bus windows. Instantaneous giggles always followed the perverted acts of lewd ten year old boys. I thumbed through the book, exposing myself to various sexual positions, which I later felt guilty for the liking of my latest discovered erotica. Nowadays, I wonder if the placing of the little brown sex book directly two shelves above the children's book shelf was intentional. Perhaps my parents thought, "If they are big enough to reach the book, they are big enough to read about the subject." And eventually, boom! Instant enlightenment on the "birds and bees" without the actual discussion.

The years before my erotica discovery, I prayed the exact same prayer on my knees each night before my sweet slumber. I was a fearful child. Fearful of rejection, death, disasters and pain. My prayer throughout my childhood consisted of four exact sentences. Naturally, the last request was taken out of my prayer after the little brown book was found. It was then I was revealed that God doesn't pick and chose which women have children. Or, does He?

Dear God,

Please make my mom and dad love each other everyday.
Keep my baby brother safe.
Don't let there be a tornado or fire tonight.
Please do not put a baby in my stomach.

Amen

Seven years later

I was seventeen and everything was going well for me. I was voted Junior Homecoming Maid in high school, our cheerleading squad made it to nationals, I was in love, had a new car, and lots of friends. Little did I know that I was about to hear the most devastating news of my life.

"You have been diagnosed with a condition called Premature Ovarian Failure. Your ovaries are not working properly and you will most likely never conceive a child."

My world was crashing and I wanted to die. From that point on, my life drastically changed. I dated less and less in fear of not being able to live up to the expectations of the men in the south who couldn't wait to have strapping young lads carrying out the family name-- A tradition that could only be carried by a child of their own flesh and blood. In college, I didn't pursue relationships with men that passionately talked about having families of their own. I couldn't face telling them I was inadequate to give them a child. Thus, losing out on what could have been beautiful connections.

I felt as if a magnificent experience was ripped from me, robbing me from such an incomprehensible moment. A moment that I would watch time and time again, as my college friends eventually had children. And now my own brother and his wife are making me an Auntie this April.

"What were mom and dad's reactions to the baby news?"

"They both were ecstatic. Mom's reply was, I'm going to be a Granny!"

"That is wonderful. I am so happy you have them near."

"Me too, Amanda. After all, it may be the only."

"What?"

"Nevermind"

"Grandbaby they ever have?"

"I'm sorry...I should have thought before I spoke"

Once again, my heart sank. My family has already accepted the fact that Darren and I will be childless. And while I am thrilled for baby "Holland Diane" to be a part of my family's lives, my heart is saddened of a future without a similar experience of our own. The happiness I have felt for my friends and their newest family additions has been such a strange & foreign emotion. Never have I felt so much sadness with an emotion that is to create bounds of contentment. Combining happiness and sadness into one emotion has been a form of heartbreak for me.

I have recently swallowed my pride, stopped ignoring my diagnosis and began researching other options for future reference. I will continue to smile politely when asked, "When are the two of you having children?" I will continue to thumb through baby clothes in department stores, allowing the scent of fresh softness to linger as my fingers feather the gentle cottons of crib blankets and tees, bringing me a glimpse of hope. I will go on imagining the feeling of contentment in knowing that someday we will have a family. Someday, my husband and I will be picking out paint colours for the spare bedroom that will eventually be converted to a baby's room. Someday, I will give my mother and father and second grandchild.

Perhaps, my childhood prayer "please don't put a baby in my stomach" has been answered. But, forever more my prayer will be, "Dear God, please make me a mother."

Amen.

The Journey Begins

How appropriate. As I type this, the tune "Hush little baby" plays loudly as the ice cream man and his van drive by my flat.  I have this rush of emotions overcoming my body as I anxiously type my first post after my husband and I have decided to begin our  journey . A lot of newness is happing in my life at the moment - an American Expat living in England with a new teaching job, new home, new surroundings and new car in which I am still learning to drive on the "right" side of the road.   Most importantly, being a newlywed and my sweet husband and I have decided to challenge fate and try for a baby despite the fact that doctors once told me it would never happen. So it all begins now. Our journey to build a family by means of an egg donor and IVF.

Nearly 10 years ago when  I first met my husband, I was diagnosed with Premature Ovarian Failure. Being from the southern part of the states, it is embedded into a woman that she must finish school, marry a strapping boy and produce enough children to fill a front porch full of half a dozen rocking chairs. When I was told that I had reached menopause at the age of 17 and could not fulfill this, you might as well have told me I would die an old spinster. I was devastated. My family immediately brushed it under the rug and pretended they never heard the news. I eventually found a place for the sadness in the back of mind. Meanwhile, I learned to cope with the hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings and emptiness all on my own. Once I reached the point of University and graduating, I pretended not to be bothered by the fact that my friends were beginning the process of having their own families. I merely blocked out my own sickness of Infertility and tried to carry on living.

Eventually, I came to grips with it. After my husband and I married one year ago, I allowed others to know I had POF and when asked, "When will you and Darren have a baby of your own?" I would no longer excuse the facts and would tell them we could not without a divine intervention. Ten years after my diagnosis, I finally decide to research POF and what our options were in order to have our own family.

So here I am. Overwhelmed as hell, but hopeful - as we all are at one point or another. I have read others stories,  concerns,  heartache and if it were in my hands, I would change the fate of those battling infertility and it would be oh so very different. However, I cannot do that. But what I can do it share what I will go through over the next what I am afraid will be SEVERAL years to get to that place of fulfillment.

Our journey begins now. We wait for referrals to a fertility clinic, the routine testing and then the dreaded NHS waiting list for IVF treatments (we are allowed three IVF treatments for free) which could turn into a 3-4 year wait. I rest assured that whatever the outcome, I have a family. My husband. And if that is all I will ever have, I am still the luckiest woman on earth. But, if we are blessed with a tiny life, the added bliss will be our very own special blessing.