downs

When I wrote the post named ups I meant to name the next post downs. My reasoning was that if I write down how bad the bad days are now, that in a while I can see that the bad days aren't so bad anymore.
Or, that if I let it out it will not seem so bad. But I'm feeling very reluctant about it. Part of me is saying drama queen, stop it! Other part says if you write it down it will become more real, and it's bad enough as it is. Now kick yourself, pick yourself up and go do something. Here's your to-do list.....(and that list goes on. and on.) O well, I'll give it a go.

On January 8 I emailed my counsellor BambiEyes to make my next appointment. After a few minutes I received an autoreply, stating that she no longer worked for the hospital, someone else blah blah.... NOOooo! Did I finally pick up my courage and then this! Since last summer I've spend 5 hours with her from the 10 she initially planned, I didn't want to start over with someone else. So I googled her, and found her at another clinic in another city and emailed her straight away. After that I let myself collapse in tears for the afternoon. I put a woolly hat on my head, as if to soften the blow. It is a strange sensation holding myself or my head, softly rocking back and forth. It is weird being so sad and at the same time being aware of it. Being aware of the discrepancy between a minor, solvable set back and the flood of tears. So much easier to cry over something simple, unfair and unexpected than over my non-baby, unfair but hardly unexpected anymore.
(The next Monday BambiEyes emailed back, she is happy to continue with me. Some paperwork, 2 phone calls and 5 emails later I now have an appointment for February 11th.)

Can't believe how hard this was to write. In my head are metaphors of scars and grief that want to be told. Stories of the beginning of meeting DP. Thoughts about travelling. About life with step kids and how alone it makes me feel. About how maybe they are some kind of gift to my life. About thinking of staying with DP, surviving this together. About leaving everything behind, moving to South Africa and start with a clean slate (and a SA donor egg program). About putting up some of my test results so other people with POF can compare notes, as there are not many blogs with POF. About other possible remedies popping out of the internet and how that makes me feel. Or how the ice melting makes me feel, compared to last year. Or that it might start freezing again. It is too much, I cannot concentrate anymore. I'm defeated for today.

ups

The Netherlands are frozen over. This is good news for ice skating people. And it is snowed over. This is not good news, as this is making the skating difficult and the ice unpredictable. But with effort and brooms and swishy machines the snow can be put to the side to make a path for skating.
The entire country is engulfed in this sub-zero fever, and I'm joining. It is good for the soul I believe. On skates you get to go places you otherwise don't. You go as fast as if you're running, but with half the effort and a fraction of the noise. Today I did an official tour, with thousands of other enthusiasts. The line of people meandering over that frozen plane, almost as if we are a giant snake, part of something bigger.
Sometimes working your way against the wind (oy you eastern wind, was it really that cold in Russia?) sometimes wind in the back, making you feel you are almost flying, hardly touching the ice.
The sounds of the ice itself varies. Sometimes it howls like a seal, or a clucks like a bottle filling. Or it can creak and moan. Or be very very silent. Sometimes the only noise is a bit of snow whispering under my skate.
Yesterday my best friend managed again to take time off work, we jumped in his car and rode to some tiny village. As soon as we saw an unusual line of cars parked we knew we were close, parked and jumped out.
When there is not that many people on the ice it is easier to feel the magic. Exploring some smaller waterways running of the main lake, a last swan lost in a white field.
At the end of skating there is always hot chocolate milk. Yesterday it was provided in the tiny village.
Today I worked out how the coffee machine steam wand at home worked, and made hot chocolate with more than maximum froth, I think the milk to froth ratio was 2:3. Heaven! (on the second floor)
Tomorrow the ice should still be good, and DP and I will go together for the afternoon.
Despair is only allowed back when thaw sets in.

more snow, more tears

Today was the meeting with the doctor after the monitored cycle. Not quite sure what cause and effect was in that cycle, but progesterone was too low and cycle too short. This cycle is even shorter. Although one could argue that 17 days doesn't really count as a cycle. I think that was the message the good doctor was trying to get across. Diminished egg reserve, cycles failing, success percentages plummeting, hormones giving up, high FSH, all part of this same package. And it will gradually get worse. Skipping cycles is going to be fun. Or unexpected heavy bleeding for weeks on end. (I still think 4 days of bleeding is a design flaw. I rather donate my blood than let it go to waste.) But all in all it is going to be an unpredictable process, could be years, or this could be my last period. If I don't want to deal with that I can go back on the pill. what???? Well, obviously after I have accepted I will not have a genetic child. Upon reading my incredulous face he adds that we were miles away from that stage. That I should probably contact my counsellor again.
I did manage to pipe up the words egg donation. Yes, fits my diagnosis. But since commercial egg donation is prohibited in my dear Netherlands very hard to accomplish. Plus it is not a replacement for a genetic child. I should not forget the grieving process of my not existing child.
It just seems I'm stuck in the denial phase of that process. I don't want it to be true. I just want a miracle baby. I want it to be 2001 rather than 2010. What is the point of moving forward in time if there is no future?

My mother told me that when I was little and we came past the baby store I always wanted to go in and push the strollers around.

This afternoon she took me shopping, and bought me a cashmere cable sweater. baby blue. I might just unpack it and snuggle up with it on the sofa. that sweater better be tear-proof.

Gosh, after the appointment this morning DP and I sat down in the cafeteria for tea and a cookie. He said he can't wrap his head around egg donation. It would be another woman's child.
Would he not notice there are another woman's children in our lives already?
sorry, that's mean of me to say.

I will give it some time, I will make an appointment with BambiEyes, I must find a way to explain to DP what this all means to me. But the thought that I'm out of here if he doesn't change his mind was quicker.