PCOS - check. Infertility - check. IVF - check. 43 years young - check. Sick of babydust - fricking double check. Join a Scottish infertile as she slowly swirls down the plughole. Now with added donor egg flava.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

No Mothers Here Today or Any Day

Feck. Is it Easter yet???

Today here in the UK and maybe elsewhere in the Commonwealth, it is Mothering Sunday.

It has been hell as the shops, newspapers, magazines, TV adverts, everything has been totally in my face for weeks now. Throw in that it would have been my Mum's 62nd birthday a few weeks ago and you have the perfect storm of grief and anger and sorrow.

I guess that it is the natural order that when your Mum dies, you should be preoccupied with your own children to take your mind off it, hmm? Infertility...the gift that keeps on giving you shit.

Deep breaths. One foot in front of another. Tomorrow all the cards and gifts will be gone from the shops and there will be no more sobbing into the shopping trolley at the sight of them. I know it will get easier and it is just the timing and probably hormonal but can't a broken woman get a break??

I did the same today as I did on Mum's birthday. I cooked and I gardened and I thought of her and how pleased she would be to see me doing both of those, always her favourite tasks.

I talked to the photo of us taken together en-route to Skye and told her how much I missed her. That daffodils always remind me of her birthday and how she always told us that she loved to eat daffodil heads when she was young. Never the stalks cos they were poisonous, just the yellow petals, like hopeful sunshine in her mouth.

Isn't it funny the things you remember?