January 1st 2020…

January 1st 2020…

Today marks the start of new beginnings. The time to reflect on the past. The amazing highs, the almighty lows and all the bits in-between. The time to share resolutions you’ll set with good intentions but struggle to keep beyond the first month. A new day, a new year, a brand spanking new decade.

So why do I feel so damn flat?

Let’s just say 2019 was character building. I’m a stronger woman after enduring challenge after challenge whether personal or work related. But I’m tired. Tired of getting my hopes up, tired of constantly putting a smile on my face and muddling through, tired of pretending everything is ok when actually it’s not.

‘2020 is going to be my year’ I keep telling myself. But what if it’s not? What if I’m sat in the bath January 1st 2021 writing the same ‘woe is me’ post because abso-bloody-lutely nothing has changed once again?

This isn’t a cry for help by the way. I’m just feeling particularly sorry for myself. Maybe it’s because my period started yesterday? A fabulous way to end the year *virtual thumbs up*. A middle finger from Mother Nature. I mean, at least it was bang on time though. No pissing about like last month. Note to self: I must remember to remain thankful for small mercies and avoid constantly sounding ungrateful. Repeat after me ‘you are healthy, you are happy. You are healthy, you are happy.’

This month, more so than last month, I had completely convinced myself we were pregnant. That the spotting I got Christmas Day and Boxing Day was a sign that 2020 was going to be ‘The One.’ I had obsessively Googled implantation spotting, timescales, cycles. Thoughts constantly whirring around my head for 6 days. Wondering how I go about cancelling the consultation we have booked with a specialist in January. Staying up until 5am reading post after post telling me not to get my hopes up until I’d done a pregnancy test after my period was due. Looks like one of my resolutions needs to be ‘follow other’s advice’ because I did the exact opposite.

Yes, 2019 had it’s struggles but life would be boring if everything went the way we want it to right? 2020 will no doubt have its own hurdles to overcome and we will get through whatever is thrown at us.

But today I’m a little down so I’m going to get back in my pjs, drag the duvet to the sofa and watch back-to-back rom-coms before I have to head back to work tomorrow. Let me wallow in my hormonal sadness for a few hours and then I’ll be as right as rain.

So cheers everybody! Here’s to 2020! New Year, Same Me. Just 34lbs lighter and a little more exhausted.

Let’s talk about sex…

Let’s talk about sex…

I mean, how can we not right? It’s pretty imperative in the grand scheme of baby-making. Yet you find yourself over analysing something that you once found so natural. You try not to become defined by dates and ovulation sticks and medication and blood tests but it’s hard when your whole life seems to be broken down in to 28 day cycles. Trust me, I found out the hard way that there’s nothing less sexy than saying ‘babe, I’m ovulating, let’s get to it’.

It’s difficult and after months of trying to convince the most ridiculous things will go through your mind.

  • Should we have sex every day or every other day? Because, frankly I don’t think I have the stamina for every day. I’m pushing 30 years old and my hip hurts and it’s hard to fit that in plus work, plus the gym, plus a two hour bubble bath.
  • Should we have sex in the morning or the evening? It’s a toss up between morning breath or being too tired after a long day at work.
  • Should I lay down afterwards and not move a muscle for fear of ruining our chances? What if I knock a sperm off-course?
  • Do I dare risk going to the toilet after? I mean, I once heard that if you don’t you’ll definitely get a UTI and as someone who has dicky kidneys I do not need that in my life.
  • Shit, I missed my vitamins, I’ve probably messed it all up anyway.

Realistically, some of these points are valid and may have a small impact on your chances of conceiving. But you could follow all the hints and tips in the world and you’re equally as likely to get knocked up after chucking up your pill post vodka fuelled drunken bunk up.

At the end of the day making a baby should still be fun. It should be romantic and passionate and giggly. It should be spontaneous, flirty, sexy, wild, adventurous, slow, sensual. It should be absolutely whatever you want it to be so long as it’s not micromanaged. You’ll drive yourself crazy following all the pointers on ’10 Top Tips to Conceive’ or ‘Sex Positions GUARANTEED to Make You Pregnant’. You’ll judge yourself for the smallest things and blame yourself when really, what you’re doing is perfectly fine.

I’m going to enjoy this stage. It’s not a process, it’s life and like I said in an earlier post I don’t want to be defined by my body.

Remember ‘O’ isn’t just for Ovulation, it’s also for Orgasm. Or in this case, it’s for Oversharing.

Overwhelmed and Uninspired

Overwhelmed and Uninspired

It’s been 5 weeks since I last posted on here. 5 weeks of looking at a blank post, writing utter drivel, deleting it and starting again. 5 weeks have passed and I still have absolutely nothing to say.

Let me just update you with where my head is at. I’ve just finished my second cycle of Clomifene. When I found out that the first round of medication hadn’t worked I was sad but I hadn’t expected it to work straight away. After nearly two years of getting your hopes up and your body letting you down you learn not to get too optimistic in order to protect yourself.

Cycle 2 has been completely different to the first. Maybe because work has been a distraction and I’ve been constantly busy for the last few weeks. I’ve not had the mood swings I experienced before or had to argue over the aircon. I’ve not been emotional or irrational (well, any more so than usual). But I have felt distant and a little introverted. I’ve pushed though and focused on just keeping busy but last week I finally felt myself crack after a customer very innocently asked me a question and I knew I needed a break.

I saw the above post and completely identified with it. I spoke to my manager who has been incredibly supportive and I’ve got myself a little three day weekend. Morgan’s working, I’ve got the house to myself, I’ve got a night out with the girls planned and I’m just going to rest, refocus, reevaluate and reset.

I promise (ish) that I’ll have more to say next time I post on here!


Twitter post credit : @alexmuench

All Things ‘Ovulation’

All Things ‘Ovulation’

Let’s talk about how bloody inconvenient the menstrual cycle is when you’re trying to make a baby. There are four phases to a woman’s menstrual cycle: menstrual, follicular, ovulation and luteal. On average, the ovulation phase will last around 1 or 2 days out of your 28 day cycle. That gives you a 24-48 hour window to get knocked up. This shrinks to 12-24 hours when you consider an egg will not last longer than a day if it isn’t fertilised.

The tablets I’m currently taking trick my body into thinking my oestrogen levels are lower than what is considered ‘normal’ which in turn causes the secretion of FSH (follicle stimulating hormone) and LH (luteinising hormone). This stimulates the production of an egg follicle or multiple follicles to be released and then ovulation occurs. The window of opportunity stays the same. The process doesn’t change. All it means is I’m a hormonal, bloated mess.

Tracking my ovulation has been relatively easy for the last two years. Since coming off contraceptives my cycle quickly settled in to a regular 28/29 day process. There’s a few days every month where my skin is clear, my hair is glossy, I sleep better and generally feel more rested and have more energy during the day. However, the tablets I’m on have flipped that on its head this month. I feel constantly nauseous and bloated. Hot flushes are incredibly real (poor Morgan has had to put up with me tinkering with the aircon every few miles as we’re currently on a road trip). Everything generally feels like an effort and I could nap in a heartbeat at any moment. It’s tough but the side effects are just signs that the tablets are doing what they’re intended for.

I’m lucky to have a husband who gets it. He doesn’t take it personally when I refuse to talk to him for an hour because he laughed at me taking a photo of a box of éclairs in the middle of Bicester Village. He waits patiently while I try on every single item of clothing in my wardrobe, complaining that nothing feels comfortable because I’m so bloated, eventually settling on the loosest, baggiest outfit. He silently squeezes my hand when someone asks if we have plans for babies any time soon, a small smile on his face when I manage to explain the situation without tearing up.

We planned an impromptu trip away to coincide with this stage. It’s important to spend quality time together, laughing, relaxing and enjoying each other’s company as it can become easy to forget that this should be fun, especially when having to track dates and hormones and various appointments and tests. It was the most perfect distraction.

Tomorrow marks the start of the next stage. 12 days of appointments, blood tests and playing the waiting game. It’ll be 12 days of feeling very similar to how I do now but with added mood swings and the overwhelming urge to just hide in a dark room away from human interaction. 12 days of letting my body do what it needs to do and preparing to accept whatever outcome we get at the end.

Let the countdown begin!


Photo Credit: Designs By Duvet Days