Mel from Stirrup Queens has had a great idea: write a post about comparing infertility to an analogy.
So in typical South African style, I am going to say….Infertility is like driving a skedonk. That is an affectionate S. A. colloquial term for an old battered motor car.
I read this article about the worst skedonk. This one’s only roadworthy part was the windscreen. The traffic cop who impounded the car said it was the worst car he had ever seen during his 40 years on the roads.
Infertility makes you feel like this. Unroadworthy. Everything is broken and doesn’t work. And driving this thing is downright scary.
When you drive a skedonk, there are no guarantees that the car is actually going to go.
In my early car driving days, I drove my grandmother’s mini which had seen better days. I remember the day when the brakes failed. That is a pretty scary experience. Going forward without being able to stop!
I also remember our ex-gardener’s car. This one was an old BMW but not much was working. It really struggled to get going.
I think the way this whole analogy compares to infertility is just knowing, you start the car (multiple times) and it just does not want to go. You try, month after month, to have a baby, and as sure as eggs are eggs, your period arrives promptly. It didn’t work. Again.
Then you try and get some help.
And sometimes you get the wrong help.
You trust this gynae to take care of the problem. But instead it is like going to a disreputable mechanic. You think he’s done his job (like you paid him for),but instead you are now in a fast speed through uncertainty, or a slow crawl through the two week wait, to land up in a BFN yet again. But now it just feels worse. You PAID all this money to get a positive result. And the damn thing still doesn’t work.
So you keep trying. You go to all these different doctors / mechanics. All of them recommended or promising that they will really help you this time. Ja right.
Eventually you actually get to the point where you want to forget about the car and walk in a different direction.
Maybe this car was just not meant to go.
You get sick of all those BMW’s passing you by who conceive so easily while yours just sits there. They have offspring that advance in years, reminding you of the passing of time. How long you have been waiting.
But something within you keeps saying: try one more time.
So .. you do. What the heck. At this stage it feels like you’re a sucker for punishment.
This time you go to a proper mechanic. Who actually knows what he is doing. Who puts petrol in and gets the starter motor going. Opens the hood and clears out the gunk. (I’m talking clearing out the endometriosis here!) The fertility clinic can really narrow it down for you, and if you find a good one, you may have just found the perfect fix it place.
The point is, because you have been scammed so many times before, even though all the changes are promised to make a difference, you really don’t believe that after all these years, the old BMW actually has it in her to start her engines.
I have to say it was one of the biggest surprises (and blessings) to get that BFP.
To actually get that car going like all the other BMW’s out there.
And they don’t even know.
I was once a skedonk.
In other news, despite being overloaded with work and reports (just two left, I can make it!) I have actually had a good week, it being my birthday week and all. On Tuesday, my actual birthday, my dearest hubby took me out for supper at the Spur. I really enjoyed that chocolate brownie. Then today I had a nice celebration at work, nice food and nice woolworths vouchers! I think they wanted me to buy stuff for the baby but I landed up getting pajamas for the hospital. Nice winter ones for my winter June delivery.
It is really amazing what a difference a year makes. You can read the post for how depressed I was last year.
I’m cruising now. But I wasn’t always.