For most of my life, I’ve been “on a diet”. So much so that I struggle to remember a time when I wasn’t “on a diet” and, whilst I didn’t have my first official dietitian approved meal plan until I was around 13, the diets haven’t really stopped. In a few weeks I’m thirty five and I’ve easily spent more of my life “on a diet” than not.
I know what you’re thinking…I do not look thirty five. My mother’s genes are to thank for that. And before you get stuck into her for putting me on a diet at 13, she didn’t. I did. It was also me who insisted I eat a Shepherds Pie for play lunch most days. I was a growing girl and consequently growing outwards.
I’ve been Paleo, Keto, Vegan and Vegetarian. I’ve dabbled with The Plant Paradox, The 4 Hour Body, Lite n Easy, survived juice and soup fasts and even lasted 36 hours on Cayenne Pepper, Maple Syrup and Lemon – cos Yonce.
There was also the time I fabricated a potato allergy to prevent me from ordering hot chips, claiming they made me “inflamed” – which is just Pete Evans for “fat”.
What I’m getting at is that now, having spent the last two weeks on a “listeria precaution pregnancy diet”, I can officially say, I’ve tried them all.
Now, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that MOST people don’t start listeria precautions until they get the double lines OR the thumbs up from their pathology results. Because unless you are pregnant there is literally NO GOOD REASON for ordering your eggs hard poached. NOT A SINGLE ONE. I WON’T HEAR IT.
You’re encouraged to follow a diet to prevent listeria the second that embryo is transferred. So naturally, mere minutes after the embryo transfer I was boldly ordering my eggs hard poached at brunch. By that afternoon I was turning my nose up at soft cheese and come dinner time I was wishing I’d eaten more sushi. Despite not technically being pregnant yet – during the two week wait (or 2ww, if you want to go play in the hell mouth that is online IVF fear forums) you eat and live as if you are.
I know the jury might be out for some regarding the likelihood of contracting listeria from a $4 lump of Meredith Goats Feta but when you’ve just dumped 10k on the promise of a baby human, you’d like it to be a healthy one, so ordering your Avo Smash sans Feta seems like a fair sacrifice. Best case scenario it would stick, worst case scenario there was just two calendar weeks and a mandatory blood test that stood between me and a plate of cold cuts and a 7-11 chicken sandwich.
It wouldn’t be an honest recount of the 2ww without mentioning anxiety. The constant fear that at some point an embryo, far too small to be seen by the naked eye might just fall out of you at some point. Like I could fart too hard and bye bye baby. I’d just think it was a regular fart I gave a touch too much gusto and be none the wiser.
Despite being put on twice daily doses of progesterone (a cream that goes inside you and what your body doesn’t absorb it spits out in white clumps not unlike cottage cheese) there’s also the chance you’ll bleed. So the fun is really zapped out of toilet time. Which, of course, is my all time favourite time.
Throughout the two weeks I couldn’t shake the feeling of being somewhat of an imposter. Especially when two weeks later, a blood test reveals it hasn’t worked and we’re not pregnant.
It failed.
The 30% chance of success wasn’t enough for us. So we’re not pregnant. Not for now at least.
We’re also not devastated. We’ve spent the better part of 18 months finding out we weren’t pregnant. We’ve become accustomed to being disappointed every 28 days or so. And as you can expect, we did a fair bit of mourning when we learnt, that according to science, we wouldn’t be able to conceive without it.
What we are is grateful to have even had the chance and means to attempt this. To have had each other. To have had such an outpouring of affection and encouragement in response to having shared our journey. And we’re just one in the countless and ever increasing number of couples engaging in IVF or learning they might need too.
If all we got from this round was learning that our story has resonated with some of you who have reached out, thank you. Please keep the conversation alive.
So what’s next?
We don’t know. And that’s okay.
Obviously, once we got the news our IVF cycle had failed, within the hour I had a glass of skin contact wine in one hand and a fistful of ricotta in the other.
And hot chips. Heaps. Of. Them.
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And because NO ONE should prefer their yolks poached hard – here’s a refresher on how to make the perfect poached eggs from Jamie Oliver.
IVeFfort 