Through the medium of the Spaghetti Western reference

The Infertility and Loss Counsellor:

  • The Good – She lives just around the corner. H got up and bared his manly forearms and did all the phoning and organising appointments himself, and all I had to do was turn up, clutching his hand and looking frail and interesting. She made Useful and Interesting suggestions. I started crying piteously the moment I mentioned Pikaia and didn’t stop until the end of the session, and, you know, that was OK. Not only was it OK, she seemed to think it perfectly normal. And she had tissues with butterflies on. So. Nine months on, crying, to be expected. I am relieved.
  • The Bad – H and I have been rowing almost non-stop since the appointment. Mostly because every little thing H does makes me want to scream. And probably because we’ve spent nine months not dealing with each other’s reactions to the miscarriage, and going to the counsellor is making us deal. Which is the point. Which I am not dealing with.
  • The Ugly – My reaction to H’s latest attempt to explain that he compartmentalises his feelings and doesn’t express much emotion over these issues because he wants to ‘stay strong’ for me. I think I accused him of not so much ‘staying strong’ for me, as staying out of it for him. What’s worse, I am right, and H admits it. Fuck.

The consultation with Miss Consultant:

  • The Good – Miss Consultant was very sweet. She apologised for the 40 minute languish in the overheated waiting room, watching small children and little old ladies queue to get their hearing checked. She wants to do some more Clomid cycles. She wants to monitor the next one. She was pleased I had lost weight. She had checked my notes and decided the Fallopian Tube looked OK. There was no more talk of fibroids (see? I told you I didn’t have a fibroid).
  • The Bad – I completely forgot to grill her like a kebab over a) the impossibility of getting in touch with her by telephone, b) incidentally, why the fuck are my periods still so ungodly painful? and c) the incommunicado thing again. And then she said, as we were leaving, ‘stay in touch!’. I caught H’s eye. Ah hah hah hah.
  • The Ugly – She warned me that not only do my IVF clinic want you have a BMI of 30 or under before they treat you, they also want you to have been that way for six months. And then we looked at a BMI chart and worked out I have to lose 2 (two) (that’s one, and then a whole ‘nother one) stone, and then KEEP IT OFF for six months. At which point, praising me for the few pounds I have lost seemed a little like praising Moby Dick for only drowning most of the crew.

FIL:

  • The Good – he’s back home again at last.
  • The Bad – on Warfarin and with a pacemaker.
  • The Ugly – I don’t know if there is an ugly on this, and I bloody well hope there isn’t.

Everything else:

  • The Good – I have three new bras that fit. And that I bought with minimum inconvenience and sobbing, in the first retailer of undergarments that I entered. Admittedly, they are not lingerie, in that they are sturdy and beige (‘nude’, it says on the box), but then nothing I wear is lingerie. Every lingerie retailer I have lingered in has made it pretty clear to me that lingerie is mostly designed for those who do not need support or corralling.
  • The Bad – Insomnia. Work very tedious and dull right now. H and I have stopped having sex again, probably due to the FIL situation and the general pointlessness of this cycle, but just because I understand and can sympathise doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it (also, rows mentioned above? Lack of sex could be a factor, don’t you think? Or are only men allowed to be like that). The flat is damp.
  • The Ugly – My mood.
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18 responses to “Through the medium of the Spaghetti Western reference

  • Nina

    Honey, what you and H need is a good ol’ fashioned roll in the hay. You know. Like you used to have when you first got married. Middle of the night…. you know. Stress relief, emotional connection, fun…. what more could a girl (or guy) want? IMO, you gotta have some fun built in even if it’s not strictly for procreation this time. Probably not anything you’ve not heard, but I’m rooting for you!
    I’m really glad you had a good counseling appt. It’s nice to hear you’re normal from someone else, especially if they’re a professional who should know. I lost 30 pounds with an anti-depressant. I’m not an exerciser either. Ever. You might ask your Doc. I’m still dealing with loss myself, and it helped me a lot. With everything you’ve gone through, sounds like you could be a candidate. Can help with stress, mood swings, irritability, DEPRESSION, etc. Hope this helps!
    And I’m so glad FIL is doing ok. Coumadin is scary, but just be sure he follows up and gets his levels checked periodically. Pacemaker will help him feel sooo much better. As far as the consultant is concerned, you’re just too damn nice. Should have told her that if she’d called back when she was supposed to, you would have had an extra month to work on it, dammit. I have no patience with that stuff. I work in healthcare. That is just appalling.

  • Nina

    Sorry about the novel. Maybe I should invent a pseudonym for myself. Nina Austen? Will think on it.

  • womb for improvement

    FIL – Ugly scar and leave it at that?

    Sounds like the consultant is (despite being totally oblivious to the stress you have had trying to get in touch with her), of your way of thinking regarding trying Clomid cycles. (So hopefully the weight thing won’t be a factor cause IVF won’t happen – how is that for a bit of positive thinking).

  • a

    It’s good to get the bad and the ugly out every once in a while, examine them under some bright lights, smack ’em around a little, and then shove them back in the bottom of the closet where they belong. Otherwise, they grow like mushrooms and choke out the good.

    I second the roll in the hay idea – because it’s either that or a gunfight to wrap up a spaghetti western, and the roll in the hay is so much more appealing.

  • Xbox4NappyRash

    All I can say is this, when we have bad news over something, my first reaction is to see how ET is. If she seems to be coping, I allow myself to sulk. If she’s having a hard time of it I go into ‘cheer her up’ autopilot.

    It is compartmentalisation of sorts. You are on the same side.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Christ, May. Deep breaths. What a hard-hitting few days.

    I’m not too surprised about H successfully shutting it off emotionally; John is just the same. He’s happy to let me wallow in whatever emotion I need to in order to get by, but at the end of the day, they’re MY emotions – and he simply doesn’t have them. Doesn’t get it. Pisses me off no end, sometimes. Although, Xbox is very right. On the (exceedingly) rare occasions I have seen John begin to lose his grip, I have instantly put my own angst on a back burner in order to offer support.

    The Consultant got off lightly. But she’s still enthusiastic about Clomid, so I suppose we’d better forgive her. The two stone is a total shocker. I know *I* need to lose 2 stone to get back to a 30 BMI, but I swear blind you’re a good stone ahead of me in the weight-loss championships; you’ve done so bloody well. Are you positive she got your height right? An inch can make a fat load (Geddit?! No? OK. I’ll get my coat.) of difference to BMI. I would round yourself up an inch and see what it says.

    FIL: good. Bra: good. Mood: …ahhh. Fuckity. That’s a tough one, sure enough.

  • geohde

    Ah May,

    So many things to comment on. Am glad you and H are seeing counsellor. Never did it myself when I probably should have.

    Glad you finally got an answer out of Miss Consultant,I thought it would be more Clomid and also glad for monitoring- although sparrows fart ultrasounds aren’t precicely fun.

    As for the weight, that is up there in the list of Hard Things To Do, so impressed with your efforts. Rgeardless of the BMI issue. Hopefully you won’t need the IVF clinic, anyway.

    Thumbs up for fitting bras. AM normally flat as a pancake myself, flirted with just how shite getting something that reins in the cans gracefully (without spillage, slippage or quadra boob) when p-word, so can relate to a small degree.

    xx

    J

  • H

    @Nina and @a, to be fair the lack of hay-rolling is despite May’s valiant attempts. I must admit that it’s me who has mislaid the ladder to the hay loft.

  • Nina

    Well, find the damn thing, and get to it! H, I’m ashamed of you. This is supposed to be fun! Middle of the night, barely awake, can’t keep hands to self romp! Have at it. Great stress relief. Have fun you two! No details, please. I’m waaaay too visual. I don’t need any more anatomical pictures in my life, thanks.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Personally, I’m sitting in H’s camp over the whole sex issue, despite the fact that I don’t normally side with the chaps. If it weren’t for the stack of Black Lace Erotic Short Stories sat on my bedside cabinet, then I don’t think Hubby would get any action at all, poor chap. My get up & go seems to have got up & gone, so to speak. I think I’d need to watch about an hour of porn to find myself at about the same state of libido that John walks around at ALL THE TIME. I’ve thought about slipping oestrogen / progesterone / don’tquiterememberwhichoneI’dhavetogoogleit in his tea in the hope of slowing him up a bit. I don’t fancy taking testosterone supplements much.

    The only time I felt randy as the proverbial goat was during the hormonal upsurge of pregnancy. Unfortunately, orgasms of any description were strictly verboten and off-limits due to their cramping action on an already cramping uterus. For the first time in my natural, I really GOT the whole sexual frustration thing. I think I may have been fairly pissy about it, too.

    When H finds the ladder to the loft, I shall come and steal it away, coz I need it. Leaving you both stranded up there, possibly, but heigh-ho.

  • Artblog

    Lord, we could be married to the same man! “Stay strong for me”, sums mine up in a nutshell. Why do they do this, who asked them, believe me it helps not a lot at all!

    If you’re suffering from insomnia ask your GP for a mild sedative, i did, it saved my arse.

    HUGS

    XXX

  • Jane G

    It’s good that you’re seeing a counsellor. My John tended to do the strong and silent thing after our miscarriages too. I think it’s just a man thing. I was nearly at the point of grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him, screaming “grieve, you bugger”. My counsellor just told me that people grieve in different ways and I had to accept that.

    Good news that FIL is home. Also good on the bra front. And the more clomid cycles. Fingers crossed that will do the trick for you.

    And when you’re all finished with the ladder, can you send it this way please?

  • Nina

    Jacob’s gonna have to hide the broken ladder, or someone’s gonna kill themselves! Personally, I’m a spiderpig, so I can get to the hayloft with no help from Jake at all!

  • fruitbowl

    Been lurking for a bit. Just wanted to say, sorry you’re going through the mill at the mo. Know what you mean about losing the loft ladder. We’ve lost the bloody way even to the barn! x

  • Betty M

    Uggh I hate the IF sex drought. Sorry it is afflicting you at teh mo. It doesn’t really matter which side the issue is with it is crap for both.

    You were too kind to Miss Consultant but at least she has promised monitoring next time (although frankly she should do it as standard…)

  • Korechronicles

    Been away in the wilds of outback Oz and had to cope with severe technology drought as laptop went on total “Not Responding” bender whenever I tried to use the internet. Sorry to hear that you are still struggling with the quicksands of loss and the NHS.

    And yay for the weight loss, the peachy new bras and the continuing recovery of FIL.

  • This being what May thought of counselling. « Nuts in May

    […] discussed my somewhat unimpressed reaction to the ‘being strong for you’ theory briefly on this blog. We have not discussed it with the Counsellor (let’s call her C. H is […]

  • Quickly now, I have a train to catch « Nuts in May

    […] who was DETERMINED to get it right and took a great deal of care about my height, and, guess what? At the last visit to Miss Consultant her nurse had got my height wrong by about three centimetres – yes, I thought she was measuring it […]

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