I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach when BH telephoned to tell me he’d been referred to a fertility specialist “whose strengths are ICSI”. I know there are lots of women in the blogosphere who have been on first name terms with ICSI for months, years even, but I can’t imagine anything prepares you for the first time it walks into your life. Does that mean we really have no chance of conceiving naturally? Are there waiting lists for treatment in the UK? What do I need to do? How long does the process actually take? The specialist is based miles from work so how am I going to explain long absences to my work colleagues?

I knew I was leaping ahead into the future like a frightened kangaroo, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was like being told that someone you had never considered a friend, let alone a house guest, was coming to sleep on your bedroom floor for an indeterminate amount of time.

Meantime, unanswered phone messages from friends have been stacking up. It’s not like any of them know about BH’s test results and I won’t be the one to tell them but… how am I supposed to act now? So glad your holiday in the Outer Hebrides was a huge hit and that you’re going great guns with that new Almond butter they sell in Tesco but it’s going to take us ages to conceive a child and even then we might not get one but hey, the clocks are going forward soon so that’ll cheer us all up a treat. Of course I don’t want to tell them what’s actually happening because they’ll say How awful for you but they’ll be thinking Thank God that’s not happening to me.

Something positive though; I ran a half marathon for charity yesterday, with my sister. I was far from preoccupied with fertility issues while running (much more concerned with the impact of running tights on the shape of a buttock in motion) but I couldn’t help but see parallels between the race and our baby situation. We had a driving wind against us, torrential rain against us, our bodies (not accustomed to that amount of running) against us. Every ache and twinge begged our bodies to stop but still, we carried on until eventually we made it to the finish line. We felt victorious, fantastic even.. something we’d never have experienced without entering the race in the first place.

Advertisements