Fertility treatments, Love, Pregnancy, Volatile bodies

A New life

I gave birth to a most beautiful baby boy a short while ago. He’s healthy and everything I could’ve ever hoped for. The pregnancy was hard on me and I was put to bed rest for the last months so that he wouldn’t come too early. The labour was over 24 hours long all together but I still pushed him to the world myself. I got to feel it too because of the medication wearing off right before. There were a couple of scares during the labour and it almost went to a c-section because his heartbeat was too low. I am thankful beyond any thanking to the medical team, the midwives and the doctors who helped me give birth to a healthy child. All the fear and pain were worth it when I first got to hold him. All the years of sadness and worry were worth it.

I can’t believe that he’s real, he’s here and he’s mine. When I breastfeed him in my arms I can’t help but wonder in amazement that we created him. There’s parts of me there, parts of Wonderboy. I thought I wouldn’t get to see myself in him; I was prepared to have a child who wouldn’t be genetically mine. It was hard to get used to the idea during pregnancy, but it isn’t’ anymore. He’s himself, so tiny, so frail, so wonderful and curious about the world.

It’s only been a little while since the baby was born but we’ve already started to look for the thing that brought us both so much joy when we had very little of it. First sexual experiences after the biggest change in a woman’s life and body have been scary and yet I’ve been supported by Wonderboy through all this. Finally it doesn’t have to be a place to hide in from all the grief, it can be a place of discovery again.

I wanted to come back here and tell everyone who might still be reading and wondering what happened to us. We got everything we want now. This story really has a happy ending.

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Love, Passing Woman, Pregnancy, Volatile bodies

A Miracle

I’m pregnant. I’m almost four months along now and starting to believe it. By starting to I mean that I don’t check the toilet paper for blood every time I go, just every other time. Also, I’m becoming huge. Surprisingly none of this has been a problem for Wonderboy. You should see him. He’s so happy all the time it’s impossible to remember what he used to be like. And he can’t go more than a couple of minutes without groping my huge boobs. I’ve already upgraded a cup and I fear I’ll have to upgrade my winter coat and every clothing I have in no more than a month.

I am happy. It’s been so much easier to negotiate sexual things even though I’ve barely been able to share any with Wonderboy in these passed months. There’s such a sense of fulfillment. It’s not only in my body, although it most definitely is in my body, it’s also in our relationship and in my relationship with the world at large. I’ve fulfilled this potential I had, this demand I faced within myself. Sex can finally be lifted out of the hole of having anything to do with infertility and it can start to be itself again. It has surprised me how much happiness the news brings to people close to me, even people I don’t know that well. Especially women. They don’t know about our struggles but yet they tear up, want to hug me and make sure I’m okay. This makes me believe even more that there’s something deeply engraved in us, that it wasn’t just me with the pain, that it’s in us (most of us anyway). The desire to be fulfilled and fulfill the potential like this as a miracle worker.

It’s quite disillusioning, being pregnant. Seeing that little critter spasm inside my uterus didn’t exactly bond me with it. Nor did the fact that I learned that it doesn’t have brains yet and that’s why it moves like that or that it’s entrails aren’t even inside its body. Still, everything is like it’s supposed to be. It’s healthy, it’s growing, it’s going to be our child. And seeing it was important. It made the fact real that it’s a another person, not just my ever changing body.

I’m guessing you’d like to know what happened? How did we conceive finally after almost four years?

Our money was running out. We’d had to move onto a private clinic because of the treatments I needed. This was the third IVF at the clinic, our fifth all together. I’d had to stop taking the hormones that helped me produce more and more viable eggs, because they gave me pretty severe cardiac dysrhythmia. In the end I also started to suffer from breathing problems during the treatments. My throat kept closing up and sometimes I would wake up startled and try to catch my breath sitting down. It was pretty clear that my body wasn’t handling the treatments well anymore and it was endangering my health.

After the first try after the help of the hormones, with the starting pregnancy with the twins that twindled so early on, on fourth to sixth week like all the eight other pregnancies, we decided that it wasn’t worth putting my health at risk. What was wrong even the doctor couldn’t guess. The embryos were perfect. My uterus, the hormones, everything was perfect. Except the result. We decided that we would make one last attempt and then settle in on the donor program to get eggs from someone else.

To my doctors (positive) dismay I already had three donors lined up, because my little sister and my friends love me to death and I will never forget what they promised me and how they changed my life when they did. Everyone just wanted for us to have a child. Everyone wanted us to be happy.

But we still had that last chance. And since it was the last chance I begged the doctor, like I’d asked a number of times before, if we could try the cortisone treatment. I’ve had a lot of time to read in these 3,5 years and I’ve read a lot of research. If I had an immunological decease, like the celiac decease, my body could be attacking the embryo thinking it was a virus. And the only thing that would help with that is cortisone. They didn’t find any antibodies in my blood to suggest I had celiac decease, but our first doctor had put me on gluten free diet anyway. And it had helped. It changed my body shape because I lost so much weight. It changed my bodily functions, my activity levels, pretty much everything for better. But they couldn’t find the antibodies in my blood, so they wouldn’t put me on cortisone with the IVF treatment. The doctor finally caved. Since this is the last try, she said.

I started the cortisone straight away since the treatment was right around the corner. When we started with the injections I already felt the difference. It didn’t hurt. My ovaries didn’t burn, I couldn’t really feel anything while the eggs were growing but some mild discomfort. I knew straight away that this was it. I knew that we had found the answer and that this was what I was supposed to feel all those other times. Even the doctor was intrigued when I told her about the pains not being there this time.

We got fewer eggs than the last time and like last time none of them were considered ripe. The doctor had noticed that all our viable embryos had sprung from the raw eggs and from the ones they didn’t use ICSI for. So it turns out that Wonderboy’s sperm was actually doing its job best when it was left to fend for itself like it’s supposed to. So we chose to put them all on the petri dish and hope for the best since there weren’t many eggs to begin with. There were six when we left the clinic.

And when I went to see the doctor a couple of days later there was only one that had developed normally to eight cells. Only eight little cells put together! How could that ever grow into a child? Its inner workings weren’t perfect so they couldn’t do assisted hatching like we had talked, but they had added this embryo glue to help it attach. And in it went.

The excruciating pains started four days later when it was supposed to attach and I knew of course what was happening. But it was like all those eight other times. I was just more in pain than before and the pains didn’t subside. I spent the weekend under a duvet with a painkiller and a hot water bottle. After that I got used to waking up every night at 0.30 am and 3-4 am to pains that the painkillers I was allowed to take weren’t really combating very well. And I became pretty hopeful. Since the pains were continuous, they weren’t fading like before, they were getting more strength.

And then one thursday morning I did the pregnancy test. It was the fourteenth day after conceiving in the lab and I was due to take a blood test the 18th in the clinic. I had barely had time to put the stick down when it brightened with two crossing lines. No doubt, I was pregnant. But doubt there was… so much doubt and fear. Wonderboy wouldn’t believe it until we saw what the blood works would say. On monday I went to the clinic and later that day I called for the results. With the twins my hcg levels had tipped a bit to 6-8 hcg. I knew that it was supposed to be 280 by now and I was scared. But there was no need. It was over 800. I was most definitely pregnant.

I went to the first ultrasound on week 5 and we already saw the heartbeat. Then we went together at the end of 6th week and it had grown to twice its size. Everything was good. Everything was normal.

And every night I woke up twice to the excruciating pain that even my doctor was a bit concerned about. But I wasn’t. If I had felt pains the eight times we conceived before, it was only natural that this would hurt even more. Because this time it had worked.

I haven’t had a lot time to process this. I haven’t had a lot of time to be happy. I’ve been so sick, the pains have been at times unbelievable and I have suffered from near continuous migraine for the first time in my life. This is the first time I am able to write anything this long without puking or having to go into a dark room to lie down. This is the second week there has been some normal days. Yesterday was the start of the week 15 of the pregnancy, and it was the first day I didn’t suffer from anything until late at night.

It must be self-evident that I don’t care. I don’t care. We will probably only ever have this one child. And it will be so loved, it is so loved already. We have fought this battle together and we have conquered. Everything is better now. I didn’t think it would be, but it is. Everything is easier, well, except moving and maybe sex. And even that doesn’t matter so much anymore. We have had to learn to wait, to be patient, to tread lightly with sexy things. But we have had ample time to learn the skills to do that: negotiate, be frank and unassuming when it comes to sexual acts.

Last time I said I didn’t want him to hit me or strangle me at all. There was a pause, he was scared and uneasy, because he had noticed that my responses were different and didn’t know what he could do now. We cuddled and talked and then started again. And when his hand went gently on my throat when we were getting close it wasn’t enough for me. I pushed his hand to grip more tightly. Because he had listened to me and I had spoken to him, I could do that. I could ask for it.

There were some droplets of blood, and even though our nurse had said after the first ultrasound and my freaking out on some blood that it was perfectly normal, I asked that we’d not have intercourse again. The blood was too scary. It’s not worth it. I don’t know if we will or won’t, if I change my mind. But I know it will be different. It will all be different. And it will all be the same, too.

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Passing Woman, Pregnancy, Self-Questioning, Volatile bodies

I’ve been reading a lot of research about settling for not having kids. I met a fellow fertility treatment buddy of war the other day, but she wasn’t a war buddy anymore. She had given up. On Facebook I’ve seen enough to realize that three of the women I know in addition to the first one have given up hope. One of them even was so bold as to say that it was a huge mistake to even start the treatments at all.

I read about a study today which stated that one third of the couples in fertility treatments just give up. The study, or the article based on it, made it sound like they were giving up against their better judgement. But really: if these women are giving up six to eight years into their career as trying to become moms – is that giving up? Really? Should they keep on trying and for how long? How long would it be prudent? How long would suffice so that everybody could agree that it’s not going to happen?

I feel so conflicted. It makes my skin crawl that people have an opinion or a say in the matter of someone else’s treatments or their becoming a parent. Is fifteen years enough that you can give up? What about three, if it makes your marriage crumble? What about one, if you fall completely apart?

And why would it? If I was in your shoes, I’d just... sprinkle on some fairy dust and conceive? Yeah. I used to think like that too. Just do it. Stop complaining. Why can’t you do anything about it? Well, with fertility, there’s really not much a woman can do. 

I don’t want to settle. But…

It comes up more an more. In my thoughts. In Wonderboy’s words. 

What if. How’s our life going to be, if we don’t have any children, ever? 

At this moment I don’t really even see anything changing anymore. I got this huuuge deal closing in in a few months and it might change my life. My boss also talked to me about us working on getting me up the ladder an into the management. She also commented that now she could talk about these plans since there was no news. I guess my tragedy is working for me. I don’t even feel betrayed by that, I feel blessed. I’m able and competent enough to start leading these enterprises. 

I’ve been up this whole week, working up until 8 pm  three whole nights. I ain’t got nuthin against it. 

I’m drinking my Cabernet now, while Wonderboy sleeps away his insomnia. It’s funny really what it only took to take this sleeplessness of his away. I only had to tell him that my womb hurts, I bleed some, but it hasn’t started yet and it makes me want to scratch myself to death. He was like “is that all this was?” I don’t know what his all this entails really, but I guess my moods, my not wanting to cuddle, because he went on to say that he only wanted to be cuddled. I apologized and bought a stupid ass panty with a fucking lipstick pink bow on the back and pink lace and I put on my new lace bra and smoky makeup the way I know he likes it…

We got to watch two episodes of the Fullmetal Alchemist before he started to droop and it was time for him to go to sleep. 

This reminded me of the Perverse Cowgirl’s post about 5 love languages, because it amused me to realize that for Wonderboy to feel loved it was enough that I bought us some wine and offered him some and – made myself look very pretty just for him. That wouldn’t be enough for me, I think, but it made him feel so safe and loved that I didn’t even had to cuddle him but a minute before he was almost asleep. 

I was left here with an opened bottle for the longest time and I can’t even tell you how liberating it has been to just drink without any fear of consequences. I chatted with my sister some and now… I guess I’m gonna sleep, too. What am I gonna do – call a cab and go to a club by myself? No. I wanna wake up with my warm Wonderboy and fuck his brains out. a woman with a plan, right?

Maybe more than 6 hours of sleep will finally start my period and release me from this limbo of boiling emotions. I hope… Because otherwise the fucking might be left out of the equation but the rest will not. 

 

Buying panties and reading studies – Just an ordinary day

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Fertility treatments, Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Passing Woman, Pregnancy, Volatile bodies, What Women Really Want, Wonderboy

Survival of the Fittest to Adapt

We have been trying to keep doing a small token thing, a ritual if you like. I think it was Lily’s wonderful book that gave us the idea. When we haven’t been able to do much else, and even when we have, Wonderboy has always commanded me to prepare the tea for us. I haven’t been able to do even that with the procedures and my body being so sick.

When I got out of the transfer, I was so proud of myself for doing it all by myself. I was so happy to finally get there that I needed to reward myself, so I bought these hand made chocolates. They were for us both, but Wonderboy’s been on a strict diet so it has mostly been me to consume the chocolates. Somehow Wonderboy still figured a new ritual could take place in this: it is my job to bring the golden chocolate box to him, if I want them. He will pick and choose one for me. Only one. And then I get to eat it. If I ask and he thinks it fits, he can grant me another. This… makes me oddly happy.

We tried to have sex yesterday. It was tentative, I admit, but I was actually turning a little horny. It has been almost three weeks since last time and I do feel a little alienated from my body. From him.

I’m glad that we tried. I’m glad about everything we did. About the nakedness, the warm skin, his scent, his lips. We caressed ear other from head to toes like I’ve never imagined Sex going. It was very loving and we were pretty scared. That’s probably why it didn’t hurt our feelings that we couldn’t do it. The progesterone capsules I have to use go straight into the vagina. They stay there to give me progesterone through the day. (3 times a day, so at work too. That’s been a treat, I’m telling you.) Turns out they also burn like hell, if you go on meddling in the orifices. No amount of lubrication helped, we were both burning. So we stopped. We kept hugging and kissing little, sweet and innocent kisses.

Do you want to do something else? To play? I asked.

Not really, Wonderboy said.

Me neither. It’s because of the burning, it kind of took the desire away.

Yeah, he admitted.

Then we caressed each other for a while.

It’s kind of miraculous that we can have a conversation like this – a situation like this – and both feel pretty happy and serene. We weren’t really even that disappointed. It was about something else entirely. It would’ve been nice to be able to have an orgasm together, but… it wasn’t as important as I once imagined. Huh. We exchanged our love yous there and then went on to read and play games by ourselves. It isn’t such a big deal considering the stuff we are going through.

I woke up tonight with soul shattering cramps. They almost made me throw up and wouldn’t subside in an hour before I took some pain medicine. I had to go sleep on the coach because the pain would stay away in only a certain position. At night I still thought that these could be the pains associated with the implantation. But today… when the cramps kept on rolling and kept shaping into a more familiar shape. I’ve nee here before. All the other times I thought I was pregnant I suffered for these same kinds of cramps and pains and stabs. They remind menstrual cramps a lot but aren’t exactly the same.

Now I feel I know. I know already. It didn’t work. There isn’t going to be a baby, not this time either.

The next time we have a chance will be in another hospital, with another doctor, after some waiting because of our move. It will probably be before next Christmas. Probably. But they might want to treat us differently. We might end up losing time again, doing treatment cycles that don’t result in any embryos. It’s not like it’s self-evident anyway – I got 10 follicles and only one was developed enough that they could transfer it (and only 3 fertilized at all).

Same all fears began to rise. Same all thoughts. Will we ever? Will we have to use someone else’s sperm or follicles in the end, anyway? Will our money run out? Will our will run out?

It’s not for certain yet. Wonderboy still believes I might be pregnant. I don’t anymore. I feel my body too well. Damnit. I was so happy for a while, even to be given a chance.

I don’t really know how I feel yet. But not devastated. Disappointed. Expectant. Sad, a little hopeless even. If it didn’t work, we still don’t know, if we can get pregnant. We still don’t know, if it will ever work for us. We still just have to wait. It’s quite a big thing to ask of someone, this waiting,  without a promise for the hopes to be fulfilled.

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BDSM, Love, Sex stories, Unanticipated Satisfaction, Volatile bodies

Tying People Not Parcels

We ordered the shibari bondage rope I was talking about. Besides Japanese jute rope Esinem also sells a great, professional and very enlightening double DVD called Japanese rope bondage I & II – Tying people not parcels. I can recommend it to anyone who is interested in rope bondage, no matter how far they are in learning it. This is some really amazing stuff.

When we first tried it Wonderboy tried to learn the most basic of basics – the column tie. The jute rope was hard and rough as we didn’t have time to boil and oil it and it hurt my wrists. They are very sensitive as I am all over.  After trying for a while my hands started to get weary, the skin was burning… and Wonderboy took this as a sign that I was bored and angry at him for not learning more quickly. We had a small chat about it and although we ended the tying then, we were left in a positive note.

When we tried again on Sunday I knew to say outright that I wasn’t bored at all, when Wonderboy wasn’t happy with his bondage. I offered my legs as easier to tie and easier to hold out for him to tie around. I also said that he could command me to not look at him, if it was making him uncomfortable. He did and after that everything went super well. He tied my legs, well my ankles exactly, and lifted them easily above my head by the rope. (Well, almost!) Then he came back to tying my wrists, just straight up in front of me, no funny business or anything.

And all the time I kept looking at him. (Except when he said I couldn’t. He did say when I could watch him again.) I took in his body, every inch, every twist of flesh and hair. I watched his expression, determined, wonderfully stoic in its concentration. It took me by surprise that I could fully surrender to that. It was perhaps the first time, ever, I felt comfortable to just take my female gaze and smear it all over him (thanks Perverse Cowgirl!). He was already tying me. I was free.

Free of what exactly? It’s hard to pinpoint. It was many things. I felt free to feel, to just concentrate on feeling the rope, the hands, the roughness, the light touches. For once I didn’t have to do anything. I didn’t even have to portray anything or be the object of his gaze. I felt free to look at Wonderboy. I… Maybe it was because I didn’t feel that he was vulnerable anymore? He was too, he was trying to tie me and he didn’t really know yet how to do it right. But he was tying me. And I was helpless. And it set me free.

So after a while… When he started tying my ankles together, I just… Transcended. I don’t feel it was even subspace anymore. I was enlightened with the feeling of total freedom. Freedom to feel everything down to its last breath. And it was like getting turned on from all over my body, all over my skin. I felt elevated. An altered state, but lucid.

And I was turned on. I started breathing deeper and then shallower. I think I trembled at his touch or the touch of the rope. He groped my breast and kissed me, his cock dangling flaccid in front of my face, because I was lying on the bed and he was on his knees. I noticed it. He wasn’t turned on by the tying. I noticed it, but for once I didn’t care. That doesn’t sound right. I did care, it just didn’t change my feelings, or the altered state. It didn’t take that away the way it usually does, because I really only want to see him turned on.

When he started groping me more, kissing me more, the cock started to get fuller, bounce towards me. He got turned on because I was turned on. A vicious cycle.

For me what came after wasn’t as important as this. Even though what came after was quite speactacular. It was what I’d always wanted, and still I could never have imagined the effect. How safe I felt. How taken care of. How cherished and special. How loved and how sexy and owned.

He said later that it looked beautiful. That the aesthetics were a surpisingly big deal for him. He liked the fact that he got to learn a new skill. He took the learning pretty seriously. That’s what made me trust him with it. That’s what made me feel free, in part because he wasn’t focused on me but he was still giving me what I wanted. For me it wasn’t foreplay, it wasn’t the point to get the bondage good and ready so we could fuck, when I was tied – as we did. For me the sensual exploration was the being tied for a time. Just being still. Not even waiting, just being.

I have a hard time stopping. I have a hard time just being. I always have a book or a blog, a tv show or a random passer-by to talk to. I had to stop there. He made me.

After being on this wild ride with him I was exhausted, I was bewildered, I couldn’t get my breathing in order. And Wonderboy… He was just like he is after any sexual act. Let’s hit the shower. That was great! I don’t know how I could get him to slow down for me. I’ve talked about it time and time again. I’ve said there’s even a name for it – aftercare. That I need him beside me. But… Since he doesn’t feel at all like I feel, especially when tying is not at all the same thing for him as it is for me. It isn’t as important, I think, or of it is, it’s truly different in significance.

He rambled on in the shower and while we were tumbling in the direction of the bathroom. He talked about what he liked about it, and he even had some amazingly accurate and even intellectual things to say about it. Bu the didn’t ask me. I tried to say how I have felt and he just rolled all over me.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m not hurt, not really. I’m just… He was so excited and that was good! I’ve waited for this. This is something I’ve wanted for years. But maybe I felt that he didn’t want to give it too much significance.

He did recognice that his dominance over me felt different, when he had tied me himself. There was the act of tying and that was part of his dominance but it was also something else. And he did say that we just got liberated today! Even the sex was different, so much different for me. My body totally surprised me in its reactions, my wanting to look at his face over me. Coming in a moment I wasn’t expecting nor feeling like it just because the dynamic suddenly got so real.

I think that this is something that saves us. It saves us when we are going through all the other shit that we’re going through right now, the stuff that keeps me awake now, that sometimes pulls us apart and sometimes together. The exhaustion, the despair, the sorrow. We have this… this diamond. It lends its light to everything around it. It takes away everything else. It makes me able to trascend when everything is about my body and how it is malfunctioning in its most fundamental job. It takes me to somewhere safe – with Wonderboy. That is some feat.

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Pregnancy, Volatile bodies

Positive? Positive!

My period was six days late. On Monday morning I steeled myself for another negative test result and just peed on the stick already. I had to do it. Our next IVF cycle is dependant on my cycle and this delay was seriously screwing everything with the clinic’s Christmas break coming and all.

I looked at the test. And I looked again. Almost seemed like. But no. But it almost seemed like. Was there a very thin line crossing the other making it a… plus?

There sure was. It got stronger over some minutes.

I put the test in the back of our bathroom cabinet and didn’t say anything to Wonderboy. I didn’t want to make him excited. I didn’t want to have to explain to him why I did the test in the first place.

I went to work in a state of shock. I was so in shock that I didn’t even realize I was in shock. The whole day went by with me sitting and going huh? Every time I remebered the test my heart raced and my stomach twitched. I could be pregnant. It was possible. The test did have a faint line in it.

When I got home I could already feel the cramps building up. Familiar cramps. They made me realize that no, this was not going to end up any differently than all those other times. But it wasn’t like I had even realized what could have been. I didn’t even believe that there was anything to believe. But when I got home I got the test out again. The plus was even more pronounced now, there was no mistaking.

So I took a picture of it and sent it to my little sister to be sure. She was.

I can see it too! she exclaimed. It’s just like the one I first got from our youngest. She asked some questions of the blood flow, but by then I was cramping very badly already.

And then I showed the test to Wonderboy.

So what does this mean? was his bewildered question.

Well, it would mean that I’m pregnant.

And then we snorted out a laugh.

But you’re not, he said.

Well, my period just started, I said.

He was very nice to me and tried to make me feel better as the cramps got crazy intense and felt more like something burning in my womb. I tried to relieve the pain with a hot shower and a serious overdoze on painkillers. And I sent the information to our doctor by email.

By morning I had started to bleed heavily and it was all certain. I took another overdoze and headed for work. There I saw the email from our nurse.

Life does surprise you. Please let us now, when the flow gets intense if it does. We’ll figure out what to do next.

She also told me that they already have some of our test results… but didn’t say anything about the results. I think we’ll know next week or the week after that. And we’re supposed to get the medicine this month, so they need to act quickly.

But I think this is a huge break through. This was the furthest any of my pregnancies have gone and I finally got the proof! Now the doctor will have to take the miscarrieges into consideration. This might mean some changes to our treatments. And it’s sort of good news since none of my follicles were fertilized in the IVF clinic. Now we know that our cells are able to be fertilized together. But we still don’t know why it doesn’t go any further.

Wonderboy’s been very, very agitated about this. He went bonkers when he heard. He didn’t believe that I was pregnant even though he could clearly see it on the test, and he didn’t want to talk about what it meant at all. Today he confessed that he was too scared that this would once again change everything. He didn’t see it as a good thing, he thought it was bad news because it ended in miscarriage again.

And also… He seems to get scared about the stuff that goes on inside me. When he saw how much in pain I was and realized what was happening to me, he just couldn’t handle it, because he couldn’t help me. (Maybe? I’m not sure.) But I was pretty okay. I wasn’t expecting this now. I’m looking forward to the second IVF on January. So, I’m fine as long as I won’t have to suffer endlessly. (I’m okay now. Not in pain or anything any more. And the blood stopped flowing too.)

But hey! I got my first positive pregnancy test! On a non-treatment cycle! Like normal people do! It doesn’t feel like I thought it would, but that’s probably because I could already feel the painful cramps when I truly realized the test was positive. I’m… odly positive about this. Also feel like crying, but that’s to be expected.

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Passing Woman, Pregnancy, Volatile bodies, What Women Really Want, Wonderboy

Time Is On Our Side

I’ll freely admit, to anyone, that I’ve had almost two glasses of red wine by now. So, you know, if this will be a somewhat flow kind of piece, please check the first sentence again.

I got news today. They’ll take the blood tests whenever we are ready. Wonderboy’s trying to get Wednesday off, so we can go, because he just doesn’t want to tell. I understand, but I think he should. He’d get paid leave, if he did. We still have to go tot he doctor in the other city where we used to live, so it’s kind of a hassle. And I sold the car, too. They’ll check caeliac condition (again), chromosomes and then something I didn’t quite understand but it seemed serious. And they’ll check Wondeboy for chromosome problems. Then they’ll send him to get his sperm checked, again, so that they can check the DNA of the sperm.

Anything could turn up. Anything could be wrong with us. Or not. Our doctor said that they’ll put us to another IVF cycle as soon as they get the results… maybe even THIS YEAR. I’m shocked. In a happy way. But because this is so fast and because they weren’t in such a hurry before…

I need to tell you something.

Remember my big sister, Faith? Remember how I told you that they haven’t been conceiving either?

I got some quite stomach turning news Friday night. In the preliminary testing they found out that my sister is suffering from early menopause. This is a serious, serious illness. She’s only 1,5 years my senior, so only a bit over 30. Menopause? At thirty?

We’re all in a shock. I spent my weekend crying, trying to write here, and crying and not typing it. Because it’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve this.

I am so worried for her. It’s not even the trying to have kids thing anymore. Now I’m worried for her life. Because they’re not sure yet, if it actually is early menopause or something worse. They sent her straight into IVF and to the same  private clinic as us to get everything checked. Early menopause is also quite dangerous. Cancer for example is a serious threat to women with (early) menopause. And you know… sexuality and everything. Feeling a Woman, not a grandmom.

We cried together when I called Faith straight away. We talked for two hours and I tried to console her and hear her fears out. The doctor had said to her that “it’s not a matter of weeks”. So, it’s a matter of months that she’ll be out of follicles and go straight into menopause.

What it made me realize is that we are incredibly fortunate. We have time on our side. Years and years…

BUT.

The doctor had asked my sister “isn’t your sister also a patient here? Interesting.” And te next day I get the message that we’re being pushed forward quicker than I thought. I don’t think that’s a coinsidence. I think the doctor’s afraid that I’ll have the same faith as faith. A year and a half from now.

And I want two children. One for each arm. One for each breast. One for each parent.

I don’t know what to think. Not really. I feel hopeful for sure, for us both. I feel a crushing fear and sadness and a need to help and support my sister. And then I have my own sadness to deal with. But somehow. It seems much smaller now, in comparison.

They’ll change the injected hormones, and I’ll start with the antagonist treatment again as soon as we have the results and my period start. I’m not afraid of the needles or the procedure anymore. I’m not quite afraid of anything anymore. Except for my sister.

I’ve challenged my alcoholic dad and said I’ll only visit them on Christmast, if they’re sober enough. I might go now, but only because he promised (!) and mostly because I need to see my sister and be there for her.

I’ve also openly told people about my kink. I’ve attended a party that was openly kinky.

I’ve been open about what I want and where I want it. I’ve been beginning to have squirting orgasms again with Wonderboy. I’ve been falling into subspace with force and surfacing more. I’ve even been able to communicate without sacrificing my sub experience.

I’ve been strangled again and hit a lot, again. I’ve been tied and held a lot. I’ve been kissed and missed a lot. I’ve been made dinner and cleaned for and I’ve done the same, a lot.

I’ve been loved a lot.

And I’m not afraid anymore. I just hope Faith will be okay. I’ll do whatever I can. But maybe it’s not what I can do. It’s what our little sister can give. Her follicles.

❤ Is there any way that you can show your love more? No. No there isn’t.

I could keep going on with these ramblings, I guess, but I don’t have anything to say anymore.

Next I’ll write about my wicked ways. About flirting. I promise.
Edit. Oh yeah. I read a study that said that even two glasses of wine per week during the IVF treatments can result in a 10 to 15% less likeliness to become pregnant. So, that’s why I’m drinking wine on a Monday night. That and maybe the fact that I’m in a shock. These could be the last couple of glasses I can take, because I’m seriously going to do everything just right the next time. I swear!

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