ride like a girl (not the box office smash).

“Getting back on the horse” has never enticed me. I don’t like failing. That’s not abnormal. But truth be told, sometimes I feel like even when I do eventually succeed at something after multiple attempts, it never feels quite as satisfying as nailing it first time. I don’t want to be applauded for my resilience; I want people to be ASTOUNDED by my humility when it seems I fail at nothing!

Of course, over the course of the last year, we never really got off the old IVF horse. Since our initial attempt in September last year we’ve had three more attempts. And three more fails.

I stopped documenting it for a number of reasons, namely because it felt repetitive. Even I was bored. Because it really is a lot more of the same shit. There might be a tweak to your meds, or another part of your body they can use as a pin cushion. There’s always food to avoid, coffee to quit, and too much and not enough exercise to do. There are always more supplements you can take and more people suggesting you try to avoid feeling stressed in the same breath as telling you you’ve reached your rebate limit.

So yeah, as far as the “horse” goes it’s been dragging us along by our ankles the whole time.

Also, writing, my one true love – kinda blossomed.

So “blossomed” might be the wrong word. It feels like the kind of thing you’d hear from a distant relative at family reunion, because for Christmas, Santa finally delivered you some tits. *shakes head*

What I’m trying to say is, despite me being entirely unable to get my Woolworths Discovery Garden to sprout so much as a weed, my toiling away at my keyboard is finally bearing fruit and not merely catharsis (there’s that HUMILITY).

But anyone who is privileged and fortunate to have their love/therapy boosted by income knows it’s complicated. I imagine it’s exactly how Nigella Lawson feels about butter, torn because she loves it so, but she also has to work with it everyday.

Look, that was a terrible comparison because…well, because butter.

ANYWAY – what I’m trying to say is, I’ve been busy doing what I love and it’s been great. I’m very grateful. Please nothing change. But as a result I have a love/hate relationship with MS Word.

So why now? Well, because it wouldn’t be our whole IVF story if I’d stopped writing about it. And so much happened over the course of that twelve months that definitely bears repeating.

So here it is. A somewhat montage/highlight reel/mega cut of our three failed attempts at making a baby last year.

• Spend a shit tonne of money, get a shit tonne of reward points on your credit card. So whilst no bambino, Nick got some swish new boots. Which I remind him technically cost us $10,000.
• When left in my father’s charge, following harvest surgery, I suggested we order Uber Eats for lunch. His request…”just some soup”. And it was delivered with the most exquisite amount of ignorance it was almost perky – I very nearly applauded. Of course in reality, I politely explained that “just some soup” could be hard to come by on Uber Eats and attributed my rage to having just been milked for eggs. So I made an omelette and we watched Mission Impossible: Fallout – which felt almost ironic.
• I helped a mate take her injections for egg freezing. Which felt wonderful and empowering and part of the Trainspotting franchise that I’d like to see immediately please.
• And four no’s. Not even so much as a short lived pregnancy. Just a very polite nurse at the end of the phone saying “sorry” followed by the most expensive period you will ever have in your life, as your investment literally falls out of you.

Of course, the odds are rarely in your favour. It takes 4 – 6 attempts on average. There are horses with better odds. Despite all this, we’re back at it. With renewed positivity, sense of gratitude and appreciation for having access to IVF and a list of things I’d like to buy with the rewards points.

We’re often asked if we can imagine our life together without children. Yes. Of course we can. I’d never want to bring a child into a relationship that didn’t consider itself whole without children. But I do assume I’ll be the perfect parent and you’ll all agree whilst you gasp at my humility. So yes, we’re going again. Attempt number five. Not yet saddle sore.

And for anyone else out there, who is still on this journey. We’re still here too. Right beside you. Yet still practicing the fundamental principles of personal space.

No, I can’t seem to get butter off the brain either. So let’s feast on these shall we?

https://www.theguardian.com/food/2018/oct/31/nigella-lawson-peanut-cookies-butter-fingers-justin-gellatly-biscuits