I seem to have some foreign visitors to this blog. I expect, and hope, they are my fellow IF-tweeps who are interested about my blablah-in-more-than-140-characters. However, they may have been dissappointed when they found a blog in Dutch. Google Translate can ony help you so much, and I wonder how my stories came out translated. So here's a trial: one blog in English to see where this leads. Please note, English is not my native tongue, so bear with me on the spelling errors!
Sometimes, I feel like an impostor in the online IF-community. I am very happy with the women I have 'met' online, on twitter and in blogs. It is comforting to know that we are not in this alone. I am grateful for the support, advice and well wishes. But most of the time, I am feeling like I am allowed to play with the cool kids, because they haven't realised yet that I am not one of them (and the truth is, of course, that I hope never to become one of them too).
I would, at this point, diagnose us with 'infertility light'. Confession: I have never peed on a stick. This isn't exactly true as I've peed on 3 or 4, but I have never peed on a stick with the hope that the "pregnant" mark would appear. I have never hoped or expected to be pregnant. We've only been trying to conceive for a year and a half.
On our first date - if you can count kissing in a bar, completely wasted, in front of a lot of mutual friends a date - I already knew that with MeneerHaan (you can GoogleTranslate that yourself), having kids would involve needles, people in white coats and petridishes. I knew about his low sperm count, and it even crossed my mind, in the months before that first kiss, when I was falling in love with him, that with this man, I might never have kids. But in those days, children were not on my priority list, and then I fell in love and couldn't live without him anymore, so here we are. Trying to conceive. Other than low sperm count, my thyroid-issues (which do not interfere with me getting pregnant, but might cause miscarriages - but thats under control now) and a small, removed, myoma, there should be nothing wrong.
This does not make our first cycle a walk in the park, but I have it relatively easy. Not much symptoms, I feel ok most of the time, enough follicles, lining good. Just a full belly, some nausea and sore legs. Even the shots I can handle better than I expected. Plus, which is something I am more than grateful about, my boss and collegues are very sympathetic and give me al the time off and space that I want or need. I feel blessed that this road, so far, is not bumpy or worse. Now, on the eve of egg collection, I can only hope that it stays like this. I don't expect it to be, the chance for this to work on the first go are slim, I am well aware of that. I'm being optimistic, but realistic at the same time. We are going to try though and make the most of it. If nothing else, we at least will have information about how my body takes it all. Maybe I will end up being one of the "cool kids", even if I hope I won't. I don't know what the future has in store for us.
Trough the excitement, the nerves, the anxiety, the support of my reallife friends and family warms my heart. They stand by us and wish the best for us. The support of my fellow tweeps is priceless. I feel undeserving of their well wishes, seeing as they have been trough so much more, dealt with so much more pain and hardship. I can only try to be brave and battle the odds, and muster up all the hope there is. And be very thankful for all the support we get. Friends, family and tweeps: thank you. You are amazing. I hope you all will not anymore (or never) be cool kids in the near, near future.
Sometimes, I feel like an impostor in the online IF-community. I am very happy with the women I have 'met' online, on twitter and in blogs. It is comforting to know that we are not in this alone. I am grateful for the support, advice and well wishes. But most of the time, I am feeling like I am allowed to play with the cool kids, because they haven't realised yet that I am not one of them (and the truth is, of course, that I hope never to become one of them too).
I would, at this point, diagnose us with 'infertility light'. Confession: I have never peed on a stick. This isn't exactly true as I've peed on 3 or 4, but I have never peed on a stick with the hope that the "pregnant" mark would appear. I have never hoped or expected to be pregnant. We've only been trying to conceive for a year and a half.
On our first date - if you can count kissing in a bar, completely wasted, in front of a lot of mutual friends a date - I already knew that with MeneerHaan (you can GoogleTranslate that yourself), having kids would involve needles, people in white coats and petridishes. I knew about his low sperm count, and it even crossed my mind, in the months before that first kiss, when I was falling in love with him, that with this man, I might never have kids. But in those days, children were not on my priority list, and then I fell in love and couldn't live without him anymore, so here we are. Trying to conceive. Other than low sperm count, my thyroid-issues (which do not interfere with me getting pregnant, but might cause miscarriages - but thats under control now) and a small, removed, myoma, there should be nothing wrong.
This does not make our first cycle a walk in the park, but I have it relatively easy. Not much symptoms, I feel ok most of the time, enough follicles, lining good. Just a full belly, some nausea and sore legs. Even the shots I can handle better than I expected. Plus, which is something I am more than grateful about, my boss and collegues are very sympathetic and give me al the time off and space that I want or need. I feel blessed that this road, so far, is not bumpy or worse. Now, on the eve of egg collection, I can only hope that it stays like this. I don't expect it to be, the chance for this to work on the first go are slim, I am well aware of that. I'm being optimistic, but realistic at the same time. We are going to try though and make the most of it. If nothing else, we at least will have information about how my body takes it all. Maybe I will end up being one of the "cool kids", even if I hope I won't. I don't know what the future has in store for us.
Trough the excitement, the nerves, the anxiety, the support of my reallife friends and family warms my heart. They stand by us and wish the best for us. The support of my fellow tweeps is priceless. I feel undeserving of their well wishes, seeing as they have been trough so much more, dealt with so much more pain and hardship. I can only try to be brave and battle the odds, and muster up all the hope there is. And be very thankful for all the support we get. Friends, family and tweeps: thank you. You are amazing. I hope you all will not anymore (or never) be cool kids in the near, near future.
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