Tuesday 16th February 2016
Technically today is day 2 of my cycle, and day 1 of hormone injections – the necessary step to stimulate my lady bits to produce big fecund follicles from which the elusive golden egg will be retrieved at some stage this month by our fertility doctor.
Excitement thinking about much desired success overlapped with apprehension about possible disappointing outcomes is exactly how muddled up I feel. Equal measures of both invade my daytime thoughts. Neither do I want to tell the world of our endeavors, nor do I want to fib were I to be asked about ‘having a brother or sister for Kingsley’.
The path ahead must be steady for Erroll and I lest we lose our minds like we did last time we went through IVF. I recall some whopper arguments/misunderstandings, one particular time involving a fist through the door and a trip to A&E.
We seem now more conscious, present and understanding than we were back in 2012/13 in our attempts to conceive Kingsley. That I know for sure. So it is with great hope and much support from Erroll that I swallow the bitter Chinese herbs, endure acupuncture and take the hormone injections at precisely 3:50pm, like a champ. Love is all around us, exactly how Gustav Klimt imagined it in his The Kiss I was fortunate to see on Monday…