I wish I could start this blog off with a more positive background,but I guess that’s how IVF works,like a piers fairground ride,unnerving,exciting,full of ups and downs with the sickly feeling at the pit of your stomach from too much sugar,or in my case,the feeling of uncertainty of my desire to achieve motherhood before my 30th.
Now for the purpose of this blog I am 28 – for the purpose of my sanity & not so secret fancy of childhood cartoons,90’s music & slapstick comedy,let’s pretend I’m 21 and me & you will get on just fine. Just don’t remind me of when the Spice girls split- It’s still a touchy subject to this day.
I often ask myself if I was to visit 2008 and meet my 21 year old former self, what advice would I give? The first line that comes tumbling from my mouth is ‘blonde streaks & purple eyeshadow is not the future’ .. With ‘do not let fertility control your life’ a close second.
Would the former confident,outgoing stroppy 21 year old listen? – Hell no.
I wish I did listen,my teachers in Secondary school would always scribble the same five words over and over again in every year end report ‘Natalie needs to listen more’
You see it’s kind of in my DNA to ignore the preachers & do my own thing,but I’ve got to give it to you Miss Crosby-I guess you was right all along, and without blowing my own trumpet (who am I kidding I LOVE being right),I wish the forner Miss Sixty flared jeans wearing,Ugg boot loving madam DID listen to that inner voice that told me over and over again,to carry on doing my own thing,to carry on reaching for my dreams & to enjoy life -blonde streaks an all!
But the preacher in my pocket was well & truly ignored when the moral dilemma of whether to have a tipple on a school night came up,the voices was well and truly drowned out by a large Vodka & lime with a few shots of tequila thrown in for good measure,and the Angel on my shoulder must of danced with the devil that evening because it was then I met Mr.F, I’d say it was love and first sight but I’d be lying,partially because I couldn’t remember what my handsome husband looked like and more importantly because I wasn’t looking to meet Mr.Right at all,but safe to say I’ve hung up my beer googles and my ‘I’m totally in love with you ‘ contact lenses are firmly fitted. Fast forward 7 years and here we are,blissfully married,new home,fantastic memories (ok the beer goggles came out to play for a few of these ‘memories’!) but all in all a fantastic life.. Bar one missing ingredient to bake the perfect family cake.. An egg.
Thats all it takes right? You can’t bake the most delicious,soft sponged,vanilla frosted,raspberry filled cake without eggs. Ok,it may LOOK perfect and oh-so mouth watering from the outside but you cut right in the centre of the cake and you will see it’s nothing but a beautiful disaster.
You know exactly what you added to the mixture,you followed it to the letter;
– 1 cup of excitement
– 2 tablespoons of hope
– 1/2 cup of nerves
– 1 vial of excellent sperm
– 2 teaspoons of love
-5 years of marriage
– 1 HUGE pinch of medication,scans & monitoring
-1 good quality egg
And finally but not least – 2 people whom are ready to be parents,who have an abundance of love & commitment to give. And you see the call for the egg,that’s what’s missing.
1 bloody egg! So where the hell is this egg & why don’t I have it?
Stick with me,this can only get better.. But I can’t promise on the taste on music.
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