This is an instalment of an autobiographical series. See right for more information.
Maybe
we wanted to do something to mark our ‘newness’. Maybe we were fed up with
being pariahs, with people thinking there was something wrong with us or saying
that we were ‘selfish’. Whatever the reasons, we dived head-first into our
quest, or rather I did and Frog followed behind without saying much.
First stop the doctor, where Frog was
discovered to have a low sperm count. This was not unexpected given his age and
not unusual given the polluted environment we all lived in. He was advised to
wear boxer shorts rather than tight underpants, which he did with much protest.
Of course, a crucial step on the road to
conceiving is to actually go about making a baby, which as you will know by now
was something I had always struggled with.
If you let go, men walked away, didn’t
they? And before that they mocked your technique (which was something else
Brian in London had done, but not something I’ve been able to write about yet).
Both these experiences paralysed me.
The way I saw it, we had four faculties – body, mind, emotions and spirit – and I could only make love with one at a time. To put them together was too terrifying. What if something went wrong? Where would I be then? I couldn’t possibly risk everything, not even for Frog. Especially not with Frog.
So we muddled on.
Meanwhile I plunged into researching fertility - exploring self-help, what complementary therapies could do, and the pros and cons of conventional medical intervention. Hey, I thought as I pinged off yet another email requesting information or staggered back from the library with yet another load of books, what if I were to write about this? There was nothing around that actually dealt with the subject the way I wanted it dealt with.
At the time I was freelancing for a publisher in Dorset which specialised in what were called ‘mind, body, spirit’ books and I was working on a series which dealt with the whole range of possible treatments – conventional and unconventional – for chronic diseases such as migraine, arthritis, asthma, back pain, diabetes and irritable bowel syndrome. Would they be interested in a volume on fertility?
I put together an introduction, a chapter and a synopsis and sent them to the publisher, and yes they were very interested, but wanted to call the book ‘Infertility’ as that fitted better into the series than ‘Fertility’. I didn’t want to call the book ‘Infertility’ as I didn’t want people to think that was what I was suffering from. I wasn’t infertile, I was just old. But I could see the publisher’s point. So ‘Infertility’ the book became. They paid me a chunk of money, which was more than welcome, and I started writing.
During
my researches I came across a charity (since disbanded) that specialised in
helping people suffering from infertility, mainly by prescribing mega-doses of
supplements. We went through their testing process which discovered that we
were both suffering from too much heavy metal in our systems and deficiencies
in certain vitamins and minerals. Again, this was unsurprising. It was simply a
case of working out our specific needs.
They also recommended that we be tested for sexually transmitted diseases which – given our history with Sam – we did. It was a horrible process and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. Thankfully, we came out clear.
So we bought a bucket-load of supplements (which didn’t come cheaply) and embarked on our journey towards reproductive health.
At Frog’s next test, his sperm count had risen dramatically, so something was working, and we began to feel excited. Or, at least, I did.
Then
about six months into our quest I missed a period and, when I did a pregnancy
test, the magic second blue line appeared. I could hardly believe it.
Presuming that our supplement prescriptions would need to be changed, I rang the charity in high excitement.
‘Oh no,’ they said. ‘You weren’t supposed to be trying for a baby while taking the supplements.’
‘You never said anything about that,’ I snapped back.
Well, they hadn’t. I knew I would have remembered if they had. I was nothing if not thorough in everything, and especially in this. I was furious.
‘It’s true,’ they said. ‘You’ve risked something being wrong with the baby.’
The way I saw it, we had four faculties – body, mind, emotions and spirit – and I could only make love with one at a time. To put them together was too terrifying. What if something went wrong? Where would I be then? I couldn’t possibly risk everything, not even for Frog. Especially not with Frog.
So we muddled on.
Meanwhile I plunged into researching fertility - exploring self-help, what complementary therapies could do, and the pros and cons of conventional medical intervention. Hey, I thought as I pinged off yet another email requesting information or staggered back from the library with yet another load of books, what if I were to write about this? There was nothing around that actually dealt with the subject the way I wanted it dealt with.
At the time I was freelancing for a publisher in Dorset which specialised in what were called ‘mind, body, spirit’ books and I was working on a series which dealt with the whole range of possible treatments – conventional and unconventional – for chronic diseases such as migraine, arthritis, asthma, back pain, diabetes and irritable bowel syndrome. Would they be interested in a volume on fertility?
I put together an introduction, a chapter and a synopsis and sent them to the publisher, and yes they were very interested, but wanted to call the book ‘Infertility’ as that fitted better into the series than ‘Fertility’. I didn’t want to call the book ‘Infertility’ as I didn’t want people to think that was what I was suffering from. I wasn’t infertile, I was just old. But I could see the publisher’s point. So ‘Infertility’ the book became. They paid me a chunk of money, which was more than welcome, and I started writing.
They also recommended that we be tested for sexually transmitted diseases which – given our history with Sam – we did. It was a horrible process and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. Thankfully, we came out clear.
So we bought a bucket-load of supplements (which didn’t come cheaply) and embarked on our journey towards reproductive health.
At Frog’s next test, his sperm count had risen dramatically, so something was working, and we began to feel excited. Or, at least, I did.
Presuming that our supplement prescriptions would need to be changed, I rang the charity in high excitement.
‘Oh no,’ they said. ‘You weren’t supposed to be trying for a baby while taking the supplements.’
‘You never said anything about that,’ I snapped back.
Well, they hadn’t. I knew I would have remembered if they had. I was nothing if not thorough in everything, and especially in this. I was furious.
‘It’s true,’ they said. ‘You’ve risked something being wrong with the baby.’
To be continued . . .
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