Grace is a 23 year old, stay-at-home mum from Bedfordshire who loves to bake wacky cakes and make beautiful baby items for her children. She loves cloth nappies and is pushchair crazy. She also had a tough time of conceiving her baby daughter Emilia. Her story highlights the strains that trying to conceive can put on even the strongest of relationships.
Grace blogs at mumwithanopinion.com
One day 3 years ago we were sat there just casually watching television when my partner (42) said ‘why don’t we have another baby?’ Now I was shocked! He has 3 children the mothers don’t allow him to see, his eldest now 16 and my little boy now 4. He was always saying he was getting old and can’t keep running around, but sure, I wanted a little girl to complete my own little family.
So we set off trying; I’d previously been on the Depro injection but that hadn’t been a problem with conceiving my son. We used an ovulation calendar, so I knew when the best moments were for a greater chance of conceiving and got to it whenever necessary, but things weren’t happening. With my son it took 3 weeks and we were pregnant, but 6 months down the line we still didn’t have a baby. I’d been to my doctors, who told me the injection could take up to a year to clear my system and I feared another baby might not be for us.
With every friend that got pregnant my jealousy grew; our relationship wasn’t going very well either with the stress of trying too much and having specific times we could and couldn’t. A year had passed and I had done research, a lot of research! I had come across this drug called Clomid that doctors gave to patients trying to conceive but having difficulties; normally they only give around 3-4 doses before other methods are looked into and other possible difficulties.
So I went to my doctors and explained my frustration and how much it was affecting our relationship trying to conceive. She told me she’d contact the hospital who tend to deal with the drug process and that I’d have to go for blood tests and fertility screening. It had rather scared me that I had to go through this and I did start to wonder what had or hadn’t I done to prevent getting pregnant. Me and my partner spoke it through and we decided this would be our last attempt before finally giving up.
However the day before we were due to attend our Clomid appointment, my partner finally came clean and said he had worries about our relationship and the stress had got to him, and he no longer wanted to go through with it or the baby. My. Heart. Sank. I had wanted this for so long but maybe had pushed the limits too far and hadn’t realised my relationship had been affected because of it.
So for months in the back of my mind sat this feeling – every time I saw a new baby I thought that could have been us, we could have had our little bundle by now. I hadn’t spoken of the subject since my partner said he didn’t want another, but I started to think ‘he’s just turned 40, we need to have one now or never’.
I sat him down and explained I was sorry last time hadn’t gone well and the pressure had been too forceful, and at the end of the conversation, he simply got up and said OK. OK he was fine with it; he didn’t feel we needed another one but if it’s what I really wanted and felt strongly about he would be prepared to do so, but on the understanding we tried on our own, no pressure from doctors or ovulation charts.
So it was back to trying hard and secretly I still had my ovulation charts as I couldn’t seem to shake the want for a little girl. After another 4 months we still were struggling and by now had left it to pot until…
One night out for our friend’s fancy dress party – and 4 weeks later, I was sat there staring as the faintest blue line stared back at me from a stick; far, far too early in the morning, a couple of days before my partner’s birthday. I was in complete shock and almost felt to cry out in sheer joy. I bounded the stairs and came down with two sticks of pure joy as an early present, of which he said ‘what does that mean?’ LOL – men, they haven’t a clue.
20 weeks and 2 scans later revealed I had indeed, after nearly 2 years of trying, got myself that little pink one I had stressed and cried about for so long. She weighed 6lbs 2oz and came with a dramatic 9 minutes to spare before her cousin’s birthday, taking just under 12 hours to make her appearance.
I will say I feel I’m the luckiest mummy. Sheer desperation, lots of tears, a near break up and so much bedroom talk, but see it was worth it all. I felt like I’d never see the day but the trick is: Never. Give. Up.
Follow Grace on Twitter @tinkerbella3456