Well my luck ran out. Not that I’m sure I ever had any to begin with. The clinic is opening back up but cannot see me until August as they are prioritising those who were mid-cycle when they closed.
Due to all of this year’s work being postponed to Summer 2021, and the fact that most of them have already paid in full, I am simply not in a position to be due and need to cancel and refund them, especially after how horrific this year will be financially. We are at beans on toast for every meal right now, I’ve not had a penny of income for 2 months (thankfully I have a little savings) and I feel so incredibly low.
So, January or February 2021 it’ll have to be to try again. My heart is slightly broken; trying again is all that has gotten me through my miscarriage earlier this year. The thought of being another year again, even poorer quality eggs, being older, having my son being older…THIS WASN’T THE PLAN! That’s all I want to scream out. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.
I didn’t want him to be 3.5 years old before I had another – I wanted them close in age, I started trying before his 1st birthday!
I didn’t want to be 36 having my second baby, when my eggs are already in such terrible condition
I’m not just whining, I promise. This just wasn’t how things were meant to be. I desperately wanted them close in age so that they’d have a good chance of being close and growing up together, not 3-4 years apart. I wanted to be able to have them both still in the stroller so we could take long walks with the dog without me trying to chase one on foot, also chasing the dog and have a baby in a stroller. I wanted my mum to have all the time she possibly could have with them, and right now that’s looking dim. I wanted them to be just a year or two apart at school so that I wasn’t paying through the nose for nursery for longer than I had to, and once they were both in school I could get a second job if I needed to. I wanted to finally be able to start a relationship with someone without worrying about how I’d navigate having a baby with a donor without wrecking that relationship. Just all of my plans falling apart.
But I just wanted my second baby, and right now I’m struggling a lot with the emotions that I should be 7 months pregnant, I should be excitedly awaiting the arrival of Oliver’s little brother or sister. Instead, my child is buried in the cold ground and I’m empty and still mourning.
So many people I know are due around the time I was in July and my heart just can’t handle it. I can’t speak to them, I just don’t have the energy to be happy for them when I’m hurting so much.
I’m trying to focus on the positive and will hopefully use this time to lose weight and get healthy, but we all know that means shit – I say it every time and I just get fatter and more depressed.
I just want my baby back.