My Busted Stork

The travails of an infertile…and no, I won’t just relax!


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Purchasing babies

So most people would probably ask me why I haven’t tried IVF yet. The truth is I really didn’t think it had resorted to that until 3 months ago. After taking a years break from fertility specialists I always thought I would go back and start the different treatments and drugs again – pick up from where I left off a year ago. So when I saw the doc he explained to me that seeing that it had been 18 months since my lap to clear the endometriosis and still nothing had happened the odds were not in our favour – statistically I should be pregnant by now. And therefore IVF was now the only option. That came as a huge blow.

Besides the initial weepy “poor me” vibe all I felt was anger. Why do drunk and stoned irresponsible teenagers fall pregnant? Why do the mega wealthy have babies easily? Why do I have to make the decision to put our financial futures in jeopardy just to have children when its something we are built to do for free? Rational? That is something I have never claimed to be!

My best friend (J) lives in Joburg and I distinctly remember the conversation after my doctors appointment. She kept asking why don’t I just find the money and do it until I blasted her with the above ranting and raving. There was a strained silence on the other end of the phone. Then I remembered that she was going to go for IVF after 3 months of trying to conceive! And in the nick of time her body conceded and she fell pregnant. She lives in a world where she has the luxury of throwing money at a problem. Unfortunately I don’t. My husband is a teacher – yes, not a vocation known for bringing in bagfuls of money. I am in advertising – also one of the worst paid industries if you consider the danger pay of potentially killing or being killed by overly passionate or stressed out colleagues. Forking out the 30k for ONE round of IVF would cripple us, not only financially but imagine the emotional pain of it not working and still paying off a high interest loan every month?

So right now I am making a stand. I won’t buy the conception of my child just yet. I won’t stoop to the level of my doctors laziness at not even finding out WHY we can’t fall pregnant. I will find another way.

And once I get down off my high horse, after another year of nothing happening, I will probably bow and scrape together the funds and obsess about the contents of a test tube.

I hate that infertiles are always reduced to going back on their principles out of pure desperation. It’s very sad.


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My Dream

These past few days have got me going a little insane. If I read another sad story of miscarriage and infertility I think over the edge I will tip! It’s all good and well to ‘know your stuff’ and also feel the communal support of all those infertiles out there, but man, it can take up a lot of space in the brain. And it also tends to make you feel even more sorry for yourself so I think I need to pace myself a little.

Plus it’s distracting me at work (he he, as I sit and blog)

I work in advertising and yes, pretty much every stereotype that comes to mind is a correct description of the place where I work, except for maybe snorting cocaine off a colleagues belly while lying on the boardroom table – that’s maybe a little far fetched! But the stress, the egos, the deadlines, the pretentious people, the no life – all that is pretty much true. And that is probably a big factor as to why I have not been able to get pregnant (there I go again).

Advertising is something I have always wanted to do. As soon as I matriculated I moved to the big City and my Dad said “OK now what?” and I immediately decided that I wanted to have a career in advertising.  So for the last fifteen years thats what I have been working to and building on. It came as a blow when sometime in the course of last year I finally hit a brick wall where I no longer wanted this for my life. I still don’t know if I am over the shock of that realisation. But I am coming to terms with the fact that it is more of a transition into something new that I need.

So, because this blog is new this is the perfect opportunity for me to write down my dream. I am not into airy, fairy shit. I don’t carry around a stone in my pocket that reminds me of my mantras or my visualisations. But it is human nature to have a dream, it is healthy to have a dream.

My brother is a great designer in London and he is moving back to SA next year. We are going to open up a little design agency. We will service only a few Clients and will only do the work we want to do, bringing in enough money to sustain ourselves. Most importantly we will live in Noordhoek which feels far from the city but isn’t. W will teach at the nearby school. My brother will build a completely sustainable sandbag house on the hills of Noordhoek overlooking the sea. He will have a little studio. W and I will live nearby. Around 9am every morning I will load up my child (this is a dream, OK!) my 2 dogs and drive the 3min to Dan’s house. I will sit and have coffee  with my sister-in-law who will be a yoga instructor at a nearby hippie-like studio. Dan will be finishing up his morning surf and will come home and join in the fun. There will be loads of dogs and babies wondering around – general, delightful chaos. Then Dan and I will hole ourselves up in the studio and get down to some work where we will lovingly craft our client’s brands. There might be a few weekly trips into town to see some clients (and maybe get a massage at the same time) but it will be a good excuse to go shopping and buy some shoes and I will always be home in time to beat the traffic. (sigh)

Here it is in black and white. Right now just a small coin in the wishing well of cyberspace.  For now.


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So I will blog

It is quite comforting to see SO many blogs out there about the woes of infertility. So yes, I do realise that there are a lot of people on this planet that are going through the same journey as me. But why am I surrounded by all these richly fertile couples that have no clue! I don’t want to be that person who bitches about this stuff in ‘real life’ because the little bitching I have done leaves me feeling pretty empty – never mind the empty and slightly worried eyes staring back at me. My friends really are wonderful people who care about me and love me no matter what.  But the reality is that they get a little startled by the anger. You know that kind of anger? The kind that bubbles up in your voice and then takes your voice to a slightly hysterical pitch and then you generally have to find a way to punctuate it with a phrase like “but I am sure my time will come eventually” so that they can breathe a sigh of relief that you still have a weak grip on sanity? So I have started a blog.