Closure sought and closure found

Well I finally had my appointment yesterday with the infertility specialist. I got the closure I sought and have been wanting for quite some time. I'm not sure how I thought I'd feel once I got the answers - but I don't feel good at this point in time! I feel quite raw upon receiving the confirmation that I cannot conceive again. My emotions are turbulent, my grief is open wide and my despair at not being able to have another biological child is right up there.

Basically all that I have feared, all my gut instincts, and all my research has been right on over the last (almost) three and a half years. The removal of my right ovary almost five years ago when my daughter was born, has basically caused me to head towards early menopause. If I had seen the infertility specialist before the age of 40: I would have been diagnosed with ovarian failure. But because I am over 40; it is peri-menopause that he informally diagnosed. Not menopause, as I am still having periods. (You need to not have bled for at least nine months to be in menopause). Ironically I've had two periods in a row these last two months. Good healthy bleeds that make me feel like a proper woman again. Not a shrivelled up old prune who is slowly drying up.

I'm not sure if it was because I had indictated with all the paperwork that I sent in that I wanted closure that the specialist delivered the news in a very matter-of-fact way; or if it that was just his professional style. Either way there was no sympathy or empathy. He said even if I wanted to go down the medical route; there was nothing he could do for me. With my soaring FSH levels; I am not a candidate for IVF. He said ED - egg donor was all he could suggest and he didn't paint a very pretty picture of that option either (in this country), saying it would take around two years to find a donor and that my chances would be about fifty percent of it even working (what this was based on; I'm not sure).

I'm having some blood tests next week to see where my ovarian reserve is at - to help finalise things even more. He said I probably was still experiencing some fertile periods given I am still having periods. But I'm running out of eggs - or perhaps have run out already - I'm not quite clear on that. I will have another appointment with him in May to further clarify things.

I think it will take me a few days to unravel my feelings around this closure appointment. There is certainly a lot of anger up there right now. Anger that I didn't get to an infertility specialist sooner, that my FSH levels weren't monitored from the start - especially since I was warned by the gyno who delivered my daughter that I could go into early menopause. She had the foresight so why weren't Dr's etc involved along the way in tune with this? I wasn't able to see her again because she works at the hospital and doesn't practice privately. But if I'd had her on side from the moment we TTC our second child; I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have wasted a whole heap of time in limbo land, not knowing what was going on.

I feel angry about all the growing families around me right now. I am very pissed off in particular that I had to hear the news yestreday straight after my appointment that a Mum from the playgroup that I used to take my daughter to has just had another child. She has had three children in the time I've been praying for another shot at motherhood! It seems so, so unfair that some women get a whole litter of kids and us SIs get one. Yet once again I feel immense guilt that I am not satisfied with my one child when I know infertiles out there who won't have any children. I hate that our pain as SIs is forever minimised - by ourselves at times and by others.

I want to kick and scream and express my anger somehow - but I don't know how. I went and did a spin class this am at the gym. But I felt numb. I have a feeling my anger is boiling beneath the surface and hasn't yet come out properly. I cried in the car all the way back from the specialist appointment to my MOT friends house who was looking after my daughter yesterday. I cried in my husband's arms last night but couldn't verbalise my feelings. We both agree it's like a death - now we know for sure. My husband also said it's like finding a missing person when the person has been missing for so long. In some ways there is the relief that we have the answers; in other ways it is just as painful as if the news was brand new.

I offered the specialist some flyers for the infertility support group I have started up. He suggested I contact someone from the infertility organisation in New Zealand to link in with them. The reason I haven't in the past is because there was a cost involved and I didn't want to go down that route. I felt annoyed that he didn't congratulate me for starting such a group. I guess I felt I left that appointment quite deflated, with my tail between my legs. There was a trainee Dr in the room too when I arrived and he asked if it was okay she observe and I said no! I said it was too personal - I did not want a fertile young twenty-something in the room hearing my dreadful news. Afterwards I think I was meant to check in with a nurse but as she was nowhere in sight; I scrurried off. I felt shame and disgrace when I walked out of that appointment and just wanted to get the hell out of there.

In the meantime we have made an offer on a house in a private sale and it looks like we aren't in the running as another offer was made and they are pursuing that one. They have been quite unprofessional about it; not really keeping us in the loop. Perhaps God wants us to walk away from that house - it is the one we've had our eye on for the last four months.

Today I am trusting in God's plan even though I am feeling quite grief-stricken. I am well aware and scared in the knowledge that adoption is our only way to add to our family. If we don't get picked then this is it for us. I feel simultaneous grief going on with my daughter starting school in six weeks. It's like goodbye to the preschool years and I possibly won't get to do those again.

I opened up my SF wounds to gain closure and I trust in time the wounds will heal and I won't have to look at this period in my life ever again. It has been horrific and I hate how invisible my pain is to everyone. I cannot post on Facebook "Have just found out for sure that I cannot have any more children" in my world of acquaintainces and casual contacts yet if I share this news with friends and family; most will fob it off as old news and will undoubtedly pull out the "Be grateful for the one you've got" line.

I'm not working this Sunday so think a quiet weekend, lying low is on order. This too shall pass. But I will never forget SIF and how it has affected and changed me. It will be with me for the rest of my life.