I can’t believe how the clocks changing causes me so much confusion. It’s happened every year of my life so I should be used to it by now and an hour doesn’t really make that much difference, does it?
This time of year however does make me reminisce, how 5 years ago that hour made a huge difference. You see, after years of waiting I was finally in the process of IVF treatment & the day the clocks changed was the day of my third, time specific IVF injection.
The first injection was done in the comfort of the clinic, under the caring, watchful eye of an IVF nurse. She told me how to fill and position the needle as well as the best place to inject. I had asked her every question under the sun, apart from of course, what should I do when the clocks change.
I remember it was Sunday night & I was ready at 7pm, the specified time to inject but it wasn’t really 7 anymore was it? To make matters worse the doorbell kept going with Trick or Treaters, celebrating Halloween. Oh the irony of getting irritated by other people’s children when I was so desperate for my own. To be fair I haven’t changed much I’m still often irritated by other people’s children & if I’m completely honest as much as I love them, I occasionally get a little annoyed with my own.
That Sunday night the needle was poised and the decision had to be made. The clinic was closed so we weren’t able to call and ask. To say IVF treatment can be overwhelming is an understatement. I found myself clinging on to expert advice, rules and hope. When you reach grey areas like this, it’s bleak and frightening.
After what seemed like hours but was indeed only 15 minures we decided to split the difference over 3 days and inject at 20 past. To quote De La Soul “3 is the magic number” and at the time I was incredibly superstitious, chatting to single magpies in great length, in the hope that another would hop along to keep it company. It’s 2 for joy right? And joy meant a successful ICSI cycle & a baby.
Anyway it worked, the 20 minutes delay bit, I would never reccomend fraternising with magpies. Not now anyway. 10 months later, Isabella arrived, feisty, gorgeous and more than a little unruly. She’s my dream come true & then some.
And that’s not the only thing that makes me smile about this time of year. After enjoying almost 6 delicious months with Isabella I found out I was pregnant again, this time without the help of ICSI. Of course I didn’t believe it until my gorgeous, screaming 100% organic