First Blood Test at Genea
Got up bright and early this morning for my blood test at Genea. The first positive upon entering the clinic I thought was, “at least I can flick through Rolling Stone and hang with Katy Perry while I wait for my name to be called! “
The appointment was easy. This magical blood test can tell if I’m ready to start ovarian stimulation (aka all those injections before egg retrieval) by looking at my oestrogen, progesterone and FSH levels. If they’re all flat I’m told, that’s a good thing and then I’ll be given the go ahead. Exciting yes. Scary yes. Think I”m more nervous than excited.
I will find out when they call me later this afternoon. Today, Kiera was the gorgeous Irish woman who took my blood and she was a sweetheart – explaining everything very clearly and calmly to mum and I – a completely different experience to our first appointment. (nightmare) The gentle way she spoke to me and her warmth towards us made such a huge difference. Little things like that are so important at difficult appointments when you’re already emotional.
But for some reason it just didn’t matter how smoothly the appointment went or how low key it was (just a little tiny blood test!) I just felt flat being in there. Despite the warm lighting and the comfy, cosy furniture and the beautiful decor and the snack bar and lovely Keira and everyone being so NICE I just felt like crap. I felt so sad.
This is not something I feel comfortable with. I’m privileged. Unbelievably privileged. I have an oppurtunity to do something that completely defies nature just on the off chance that I MIGHT not be able to have children waaayy off in the future. I don’t feel like I deserve to feel upset being in a swanky fertility clinic in the city, 10 minutes from my house with my Mum there to support me so I can freeze my eggs. I feel guilty. There are thousands – I guess millions of other women and men all over the world who don’t have the oppurtunitis that I have and would feel excited at every appointment. They’d feel appreciative and lucky and I know there are women who would be jealous of me, perhaps because they can’t afford it. I am so lucky. And yet every time I walk through those doors I feel miserable and deflated.
Mum and I had coffee at Kafeine in Balmain afterwards to debrief. On the drive there she started to cry, for the second time today. I can remember seeing my Mum cry once when I was a teenager. In the last month, I can’t tell you how many times and she is NOT a sentimental, lovey dovey, cat calendar person. She’s tough as nails, believe me. Growing up, Mum would always say to me, “it’s a tough life kid”. I HATED it at the time but that’s the kind of mother she is – fiercely loving of her children but tough. But watching her cry takes my breath away. I’m so unused to seeing her in a moment of vulnerability that I always have to double take and ask her “Are you crying?” She told me she felt like it was my first day at school again – a milestone and a mixture of happy and sad.
Except for that one time on the Project, we never cry together, Mum and I. When I cry (fairly regularly) she’s there to give my a cuddle and swiftly change the subject to make me concentrate on solving a problem. “Now, what are we going to do about (insert issue)? Let’s think of something and get cracking on that” she’d say. When she cries I just kind of freeze up and hug her and laugh weirdly and probably come across as really awkward and uncomfortable when it’s the last thing I want. Really I want to sob with her but my body never lets me cry at the right times.
It wasn’t until after we’d come home and pottered around and cooked brekkie that I just lost it. The lip quivering started while I was scarmbling eggs. No guessing what brought that on. This is not the first time that I’ve cried from staring at food resembling some metaphor or eggs imitating life. Everything becomes a metaphor when I’m hormotional.
Yes I had some period pain but it was obvious to me that I wasn’t crying from physical pain. I just couldn’t hold it in. I haven’t had a proper period in years – I can’t even remember when. So even just seeing a full tampon of real red blood has felt extremely overwhelming – I’m not sure why. It was a shock. I’m just not used to it – it looks so confronting. For years I’ve had no period at all or some random spotting that’s lasted 2 seconds. It’s just intense and I should feel happy I guess that I’m fertile and ovulating but it sort of feels like the first time I ever got my period – weird and overwhelming and just unstoppable – confronting.
After a morning of tears and an afternoon of glorious, healing swimming at my local pool (30 degrees today, my favourite!) and sunbathing and hammock laying, all I could do was sleep. And sleep. Then cry. Then sleep.