Best Friends With Life

I’m ready to be done with this life. My goodness why am I still here?

I’ve done my research. Apparently, an overdose is rarely successful and I’ll basically need to wait for my liver to pack in, which’ll take a painful while, and with a suicide, a prolonged death isn’t ideal.

Asphyxiation with nitrogen seems a lot more painless and you don’t get that suffocation feeling you’d get when drowning or something.

I was also thinking, when my rabbit was put to sleep, it was probably very easy and peaceful for him and I’d like to go that way. I’d have to find a drug that can put me to sleep like that.

Quickest most efficient way would be to jump from a very tall building but it just seems so messy. But it’s also an almost guaranteed death. With all the other methods, I worry they won’t work and I’ll end up alive but with brain damage, or in a much worse situation.

I’ll keep thinking about it but I haven’t found a way that really speaks to me.

I’ve been pretty ill this past week. It must be a stomach bug as everything I eat gives me diarrhoea. I actually don’t mind if it kills me, it just needs to hurry up and do so.

My husband is annoying and I’d rather he just leaves me alone. To be honest, I’d rather everyone leaves me alone.

I messaged Daye on the weekend. She’s due to give birth this month to a girl. I’m happy for her but I just feel so much shame at my predicament. That the last time we were together I was so excited to be pregnant and have her with me at my midwife appointment. I don’t know. The thought of it makes my head burn. I don’t know, man. I really can’t live this life.

I have suicide notes to write.

Telis travelled to Telisland on Monday and he’s returning tomorrow. While there he got several tests done, pretty generic, but just to check his overall health.

His blood pressure came back 152/95. Yikes.

That’s stage two hypertension.

The doctor told him that at this rate, he’d have a heart attack by 50. So not only is my husband’s unhealthy lifestyle jeopardising our future with children, but also jeopardising my future with a husband. Great. So all I have left to expect from this life is loss. It really isn’t worth living, is it?

I just feel annoyed. I’m so annoyed!

Infertility is never anyones fault, but when you don’t take serious actions to get your body in the best shape to reproduce, it’s annoying. It’s annoying because when things go wrong, they impact me. It’s my body it happens in and I have to experience and feel the physical loss of it all.

I did everything. EVERYTHING. Literally EVERYTHING. I took every supplement. Every vitamin. Tried sperm friendly lube. Used a cup to hold the semen in. I put my legs up after sex. I put my legs down. I tried this position and that position. I did fucking acupuncture. I paid money for doctors to tell me there was nothing wrong with me. I lost weight. I tried to be healthy. I did everything.

But my husband?

He just continued to get fat and unhealthy. All he needed to do was just try and cut everything out. Not down. OUT. No alcohol, no coffee. But that was always too much to ask. One month was apparently enough to get him in the best shape to make a fucking baby. We couldn’t even get through an IUI cycle because all his sperm died.

I am not making anymore sacrifices to make a baby. I am not making a baby with someone who will be dead in 10 years. He needs to get his fucking act together. This isn’t just on me but it’s hurting me and it’s hurting me a lot. I refuse to make any subpar embryos that never make it because my husband doesn’t have the discipline to give up on his unhealthy lifestyle. I am not making babies with this man until he’s serious about making healthy changes.

It’s so selfish of him to see how much I put in to make it work. To make it happen. And yet wine and coffee are too much to give up. Excessive eating because hE’s a fOoDiE. Fuck off with being a foodie, just lose weight. I’m done. I’m fucking done.

Sat here contemplating my life. Thinking about ending it all when all my pain stems from someone else’s selfishness. He wants to be a father by 35, then he better fix up and get healthy by 34 because I’m barely even 30 and I have time to waste.

I’m not even going to blame myself anymore for our predicament. You know why. Because there’s nothing wrong with me. You know how I know? Because I produce eggs, I ovulate every cycle, my tubes are open and my uterus is receptive. I had a 100% fertilisation rate. Every single one of my eggs accepted a sperm. They didn’t all make it but damn they all tried. You know what his sperm did? They stayed inconsistent. Low sperm count, then low morphology, then miraculous normal numbers, mass death during IUI washing, then low sperm count again. Yeah I’m fucking pissed because it’s all avoidable if he just adopts a healthier lifestyle. All he literally has to do is drink less caffeine, eat less salt and lose fucking weight. If he cared enough he would have tried harder but he hasn’t tried at all and so no babies and that’s that.

Yesterday morning started with pretty violent vomiting. I was up every 30 minutes from 5am running to bathroom to throw up. I was so sick that I took a pregnancy test because what the fuck. Of course, that same old faint line showed up. It was still there but it gave me no answer. I decided I’d try and go for my hCG blood test even though I planned on not going. I was so sick but I made it there anyway. I needed answers.

And I got the results back.

<1.

My result was less than one. Wild. Those tests are fucking sensitive.

I wasn’t even sad. I was expecting it but now I feel like I’m in a perpetual state of sadness. Like I need to bawl like a fucking baby. If I really gave myself time to think, I really believe my cats would find me dead on the floor.

I just keep thinking about my life and why it has to be like this. Obviously no one deserves this but fertility is finite. This can’t be my forever.

The thought of what I may have to go through and the heartbreak that I may continue to experience scares me. I’m so scared that I’d rather just not be alive. If life is pain, what makes it worth living? I’d hope that all my loved ones felt like they’d had enough time with me. Like I lived a good number of years and maybe that’s enough.

It’s just so hard knowing where to go from here. I really could just cry forever. I’m so broken, I worry I’ll never be happy again. I’ll never be the same person again. This will have changed me forever.

I feel so stupid and naive. I felt so secure in my pregnancy with Oyster. Like I was finally getting what I wanted. I’m so stupid for believing it could be real. I heard his heartbeat and then it was gone. But I never imagined that would ever be a possibility. I’m so stupid for thinking something good was happening for me. I really believed and so I started planning a baby shower alongside my 30th. But I got way too ahead of myself. Because somehow, motherhood wasn’t meant for me.

Two fucking years. I really didn’t think I’d still be here. Even one cycle of IVF couldn’t help us. I fear to think that the end of the road is near. And I’m not even 30 yet. What am I supposed to do when everyone around me will be having babies and experiencing something that I really want? How am I supposed to cope with that? How can I pass through my 30s, with a period every single month, knowing my body is doing what needs to be done to procreate and yet I can’t make a fucking baby?

You see why being not alive is a better option.

I’ve already counted all the packs of meds I have. I even have 28 tablets of codeine. I’ve thought about the steps. I’ll probably renew this domain for another 10 years. I’d write a suicide note to all my loved ones on here. And just before I go, I’ll send them all the URL so they can read my goodbye.

They’ll be hurt, but it’s my life and I don’t think I want to live it anymore. Like when I think about my job, or my hobbies, my craft, things that made me feel fulfilled, I just feel nothing. They’re just something to fill my days with, but apart from that, I gain nothing from them. I have nothing I’m really striving for. I don’t want money, I don’t want fame. I don’t really want an existence.

I am not going to be hurting for the next 20 years of my reproductive life. I refuse to live it. I can’t. I physically cannot. I’d sooner rip out my uterus if I know I have no use for it. But I can’t live with it existing.

Tomorrow is September. The year is almost over. And I guess so is my life.

Welp.

01:03am

I think I’m ready to die.

There’s really not much else that brings me pleasure, joy or fulfilment. I can’t entirely say what I’m even living for anymore.

I’m just existing in this world in a futile pursuit.

I think I’m ready to be done.

To say I don’t care about living a childfree life would be a lie. I’ve pictured my life and this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I don’t care about a God’s plan. This isn’t my plan.

This curse that’s been cast on me, I still don’t know what I did to deserve it. I’m scared of my own thoughts. I’m scared to imagine. Scared to dream. If every single positive, hopeful thought adds more doom into my future, then what am I supposed to do with myself?

What is the use of existing if I’m not allowed to think of my future? What is the use of existing if my inner voice is to be my undoing?

If I cut myself and I bleed out, will that be the comfort I need?

Should I just overdose and call it a day? A year? A life?

Can I just be done with this bullshit? I’m ready to die.

Let me just die.

This embryo won’t be making it. I’ve been testing very-faint, barely-there positives since 3dp5dt. I knew implantation was happening and I got a whole flurry of symptoms but they’ve since reduced, so I’m expecting my period shortly. But at least it tried.

I’ll do another test in four days to check for progression although I’m not expecting anything. I’ve been having terrible cramps today, and they feel like actual period cramps, so it’s basically over for me.

We don’t have the money for another IVF cycle so it’ll probably be in the new year when we’ll have another retrieval. I guess we’re now looking at a 2024 baby. Or maybe no baby at all.

It’s probably my fault for getting too ahead of myself. So I need to stop speaking things out for my future as they won’t happen.

I feel sad. I’m going to be left behind. I’m always left behind. This is my lot in life.

Here we go again.

Two days post transfer. I’ve got those implantation cramps so I know this one has worked as well. I’ll probably take a test on Tuesday or Wednesday just to confirm what I already know.

Although I just caught myself when typing out that last sentence as putting it out there could negate everything causing implantation to fail.

I’m trying not to think about it as I worry I’ll jinx myself. I’m trying not to think too far ahead, as again, I’ll jinx myself. I’ve found that anything I want too badly tends to not go accordingly. So if I imagine a future where I have a child, it might not ever happen for me. So although this pregnancy is underway, I shouldn’t say too much in case it ends prematurely.

I can’t say I’m feeling positive about it anyway. The first emotion I had was, this is a stranger, this isn’t the baby I was carrying before, I want that baby back. It just felt like a huge violation and invasion of Oyster’s space. I just have to get used to the fact that this is someone else. It’s not the baby I knew, but it still is my baby. Maybe I’ll have less expectations of the pregnancy, that way, I don’t get hurt.

I still don’t know how to proceed with the first trimester. Should we go for weekly scans? Should I turn away and not look at the ultrasound monitor? Should I tell the doctor not to tell me anything about the baby? I don’t know. I feel like my curiosity will win and I’ll get invested. But maybe not knowing will be better?

I can’t believe this is my reality. Where everyone else gets to enjoy every stage to the max of their ability and I’m sat worrying about how much investment is too much.

If we have another miscarriage…

It’s all just so sad.

It only took five weeks but my period is here. Finally!

Time to get pregnant again. We’ll be transferring one of my frozen embryos in about two weeks. I hope this one goes the full distance, I really don’t want to miscarry again.

Looks like this one will be due in May, which will be ok I suppose. I wanted to celebrate my 30th and baby shower together this November but I suppose I’d have to have a baby shower in March next year and do a joint celebration for Telis’ birthday or our wedding anniversary instead. Or it could just be a baby shower celebration full stop. Or maybe a belated 30th celebration? I don’t know. Either way, I’m celebrating this baby. With a May due date, we may even be able to host it outdoors in our garden! I’ll hire table and chairs and celebrate with friends and family – that’ll be nice.

It still hurts when I think about it. I should be 16 weeks but now I’m back to zero and will have to go through all the first trimester woes again. It feels very unfair but I’d do it all over again to take home this next baby.

I just think of my life and I don’t know if I did something to deserve any of this. If all our attempts of having a child is futile because it’s not written in my future. I want to be hopeful and imagine the life of my dreams, but how can I? Everyone and their dog has no issue conceiving. So many people will never worry about getting pregnant, staying pregnant and having children. They’re truly the lucky ones. It must be nice taking a trip aboard and not worrying that the flight will impact your pregnancy. It must be nice going for a walk and not worrying that an elevated heart rate will impact your pregnancy. It must be nice being eight weeks along and never wondering if you’ll ever meet your baby. There’s just no doubt. You’re pregnant and that’s that.

And now I can’t even enjoy being pregnant. That’s been spoilt for me. I can’t enjoy trying to conceive, what’s next? I won’t enjoy motherhood?

Gah! I don’t think I’m ready to deal with the impending anxiety that’s going to be my life from now on. Great…

My baby is gone.

Flushed away, never to be seen again. It hurts so bad. I wish I’d gotten them out of the toilet or caught them in my hands. I just want them back so bad. They were mine. Now my baby is gone. I didn’t want them to go this way. I wanted them to stay with me. I feel so empty. I want my baby back. I wish I got to see them. All I ever wanted was to see my baby. I just wanted to see them.

If I could dig through sewerage to see them again, I would. When the bleeding slowed down I knew they were gone and flushed away. I should have caught everything that came out of me. Because my baby was there.

I’ve lost my baby. They were with me and of me. I want them back.

I dreamt of you. And then I lost you.

I cried today.

I dreamt about oyster. A little boy. I didn’t want the dream to end. He had Telis‘ eyes and he was so sweet, precious and peaceful. In the dream, I wasn’t a very responsible mother, I didn’t bring spare clothes or nappies for oyster so I was running around the shops trying to find things for my baby.

When I woke up, I felt a loss for a baby I loved so much. The thought that he wasn’t here broke me. And I cried.

Now I can’t wait to meet my little oyster.

My baby. My everything.

I’m 10 weeks along and the nausea has finally subsided! My appointment a few weeks back wasn’t even a scan! It was my first midwife appointment. They took a urine sample and bloods and asked a whole lot of questions. Now I have to wait two weeks to see my baby.