Misery

Excuse me for a few moments while I channel your average 2 year old and chuck a tantrum.

Husband and I have been trying (and trying and trying and trying and trying) to have a baby for 3 long years now.  Last year, at 2 years and a handful of months, we finally succeeded.  Ecstatic doesn't even come close to our feelings at the time, but sadly our excitement was short lived, and I miscarried days later at just 5 weeks, on fathers day.

We'd talked on and off for 12 + months about fertility treatments, but were very fond of saying 'next month'.  Eventually we agreed to bite the bullet, and we made our appointments at the GP for our referrals.  Litres of blood (I HATE needles, it was hell) and a couple of very awkward sperm tests for the husband - who will kill me if he ever finds out I wrote that - we had our referral to the Fertility clinic.  Naturally, we had to wait what seemed like forever for our appointment, only to be told on our first meeting with our assigned specialist that there was nothing at all preventing us from conceiving.  We were just one of those unlucky couples that are medically perfect fertility wise, but are still unable to conceive.

IVF, we were told, was our best option, I needed more tests (more needles, fabulous!) and then we were free to start whenever we wanted.  For a very hefty price tag, naturally.  $9000 and change to be precise.  About $6,500 more than we had available to us at the time, so we went away with intentions of scrimping and saving as much as we needed in the quickest possible time.

Through my various googling research, we discovered another clinic, in Adelaide, that was run through the public hospital system, and was significantly cheaper, infact we were only a few hundred dollars short of their price tag, which meant we could start pretty much whenever we wanted.  I was on the phone in a matter of seconds booking our initial appointment, which was set for 4 weeks time.

Without warning, tragedy struck, and my step father was killed in a sudden, extremely unexpected and devastating road accident.  We were on the plane to Sydney, to my home town the next day.  Which just happened to be 2 days before our appointment at the clinic.

5 weeks after the funeral we packed up our small town life and headed south.  Leaving the fertility clinic 5 hours behind us.  Now what do we do?

We've debated long and hard, but the reality of the situation is that quite simply, we are just not able to manage heading back to Adelaide for fertility treatment.  There is such a small window of opportunity during a cycle that we would need to be able to head to the clinic at very minimal notice.  I can only take time off from work during school holidays, and it's more likely than not that holidays will be the wrong time for us.

Time to come up with a plan B.  Several more weeks of debate left us with what we feel is our only option at this point.  We do nothing.  Well not quite nothing, we will go and see another Dr, and see if any testing they can recommend will pick up something that the other Dr's have missed.  Something nice and easy to fix, preferably, but with our track record means that they wont.

Which brings us to the point of this post.

To put things bluntly, I'm miserable.  My sister in law is having a C section in the morning, bringing my niece into the world, 3 weeks and 1 day after my due date for our miscarried babe.  Meanwhile we are still wishing for a miracle.  It's been 38 odd weeks since the miscarriage, and it still hurts as badly as it did the day it happened. 

We started trying for a baby just before Midget turned 6.  She is just about to turn 9.  Back in our early 'let's plan our family' days, we talked about having a baby in 2009, and then planned to start trying for another in late 2010.  Oh how I wish.

Mid 2011 and still waiting.  And I'm over it.  Absolutely f**king over it.

I just want this ride to be over.  With a happy ending.  Surely that's not too much to ask for.