**written in November 2014. With no relevance or reference to the recent series on Mnet with the same name. Including this, there are 5 posts that I’m publishing with courage. Part of me is clearing out that drafts folder. Part of me is using it as a way to move on.**
This is a story about infertility. Well… Unexplained infertility. Basically… I can’t have a baby and not a doctor of Western (or Eastern) science can figure out why. Or fix it.
It’s the lack of knowing why that kills us. ‘Green lights’ the best fertility professor in the country and his team gave us. “No reasons why it shouldn’t work.” But it doesn’t. For four long and painful years, and over R150k in medical bills. It doesn’t. It just doesn’t.
I know some people have tried for longer, but some people also have a diagnosis – pcos, endometriosis, low morphology, motility etc etc. Me? Nadda. Nothing. Cut me open, look inside, send me for a million blood tests. ‘You are in perfect health’ they say. Well quite clearly I’m not. If anything I’m losing my fucking mind… And that… that can’t be in perfect health doc.
So this is my story. Or part of my story I guess. The parts that I come to deal with, and am comfortable dealing with.
Just don’t tell me to relax, when I’m not thinking about it, it’ll happen. Please don’t blame the stress, or our diet, or the environment (people will say anything, you know).
You try and not stress, not think about it, while not having any piece of food that may have been effected by a hormone that wasn’t my own, while not drinking alcohol, not running or doing heavy exercise, having blood tests every day and being examined my too many male doctors to count, to be told – it’s negative. Sound kak? It has been.