Pikey not pokey

It's an option I guess.

The Follow Up To That Opinion

When the call came we were in separate places; I was in town and Beth was in the middle of her regular cut, dye and blow-dry session. The tone was chatty and the tempo upbeat and the main point he wanted to get across was that he needed to see us and soon. The best part was left to last; it would be a free complimentary session. The moment he told us that, and the fact that we were in different parts of Hampshire, we both knew what that meant; bad news.

And so, two weeks later, with feet like lead, Beth and I turned up at the Clinic to hear his news. I’ll not lie; we both knew it was going to be hard and that it would be difficult to accept the news we were expecting. However, with the experience that can only come from years of practice, the Consultant gently took us through the options left on the table.

It came as no surprise that he believed it would not be a good idea to proceed with another attempt with fertility treatment as, in his opinion, it would simply not work. Whilst this may have been the case it still came as a shock to finally take hold of the lid and place it on that particular box.

After four years of travelling along this path, all the pain, sweat and tears, it all came to an end standing in the car park of a private hospital on the outskirts of Salisbury. As the rain started to fall around us we stood in thunderous silence and held each other for so long it began to hurt; I would have smiled at the irony if I’d felt it appropriate. People were leaving in their cars and some had to drive around us, making exaggerated detours but do you think we cared? Do you think the rest of the world cared about us? For the briefest of moments I closed my eyes and nothing else mattered to me more than making sure Beth knew I was there for her.

As we had come in separate cars, I watched as Beth drove off and instantly wished we had come together as, with forty miles until I would be able to speak to her, hold her or comfort her, it seemed like a lifetime. As her car disappeared from sight, the sun broke through the clouds and I reached for my sunglasses as the first tear ran down the side of my face.

Ten minutes later I started the engine, pulled out of the car park and headed home to start picking up the broken pieces of our lives. It wasn’t going to be pleasant but we had to start somewhere; we had come through this together and I would be damned if we were going to let this, as big as it was, beat us.

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We are struggling to come to terms with the situation in which we now find ourselves and Beth is lost in a world that only she has access. It destroys me on a daily basis to see her hurting so hard inside. Rightly, she is grieving for the child she will never have, hold or love. But here’s the thing; she won’t let people in to share her pain, making it easier for her to bear. Even our dear Counsellor, Patsy, has recommended Beth goes to a separate Therapist who can deal specifically with the pain she is feeling.

For the love of God woman, I’m your husband so please let me carry you through this; it’s what I vowed to do all those years ago!

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And then there’s yours truly. I had a serious bout of wobbling about four weeks ago and it was at that time that my whole world seemed to be falling down around my ears. You may ask why it happened then and not now and to that I would remind you of my inane ability to look to the future. You see, four weeks ago, in my mind, I had already visited the second Consultant and heard the news that would shape the rest of my life. I had already seen how it would impact upon Beth and I had already noticed the dark clouds that were beginning to gather just beyond the horizon. Oh, how I’d wobbled. At my lowest point, the moment I sat in the Consultant’s office in my minds eye and listened to him shape our lives, I am not ashamed to say that I contemplated suicide for the first time in my life.

Was I wrong to do that? Can you judge me for my thoughts? I doubt it and I hope you don’t have to listen to the painfully brutal judgement as Beth and I did. I hope there is a light, the smallest shard if necessary, that you can grasp to pull yourselves through such a dark period of time. Actually, what I hope is that you never find yourselves in a position like we have. But, if you do then know this: you don’t have to be alone. People are there and they are waiting to help you through the pain when it hits.

I have been overwhelmed by the warmth of my friends and their ability to simply be there if and when I needed them. However, my biggest admiration is reserved for the one or two work colleagues who became rocks for me to cling to during the darkest times. They gave me the strength to drive home every night and be strong for Beth. Without their help, their support, I dare not think where I would be now. They know who they are and they have my love and thanks now and forever.

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Beth and I have travelled this path together and it’s been hard, so very hard. We also know we have a long way to go before we are finally able to let things lie. Has it made us stronger? Has it strengthened the foundations of our marriage? Are we able to look to the future as a couple? Yes, yes and yes again. So far we have faced our infertility and met it head on. We are stronger and we are more in love now than at any other time over the last six years; this will not break us.

The Final Option

Wednesday 27 July 2005

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that you find yourself joining me here at what I have described the final option. You have travelled a journey through the pages of this book that only a small handful of people ever will. You’ve seen me at my lowest, you listened as I have poured my heart out late at night as Beth has slept next to me and you’ve turned the pages as I have described my innermost fears. And all I can hope is that, in some small way, it has perhaps helped you to prepare for your journey, if there is to be one.

There is no doubt that I have matured, developed as a person during the timeframe of this book. I have measured my journey and it has been a long and often painful four years of which you have travelled the majority of the way with me. So when I say the final option, it is my way of letting you know that we are approaching the end of what has been a traumatic time for the pair of us. We have shed tears, both together and privately because of the thing that has engulfed our lives, and taken over in many ways.

And the final option?

The drive to love a child, to create life is so very strong that we were simply unable to turn away from its draw. Although a cliché, we were the moths and the child was the light. We needed to hold the light so very much it hurt us on a daily basis. We needed to hear our child cry, taking its first breath. We needed to stand up and let the world see that we could be good parents and love the child we both so desperately wanted. We simply needed to be given the chance to do what we were put here to do. Is that so bad? Tell me; am I selfish to think like this? Am I wrong to want what others receive so easily?

The final option, for us, means just that. We’ve been given a golden opportunity that came out of the blue and we simply have to go for it. Beth’s cousin, Julie, contacted Beth’s parents to let them know that she and her husband, Mike, would like to act as egg donors if we wanted.

If we wanted!!

As you can imagine, we were totally blown away. It was such a kind and unconditional offer that we sat, quite stunned for some time. I mean, where on earth does such an offer come from? We were at the brink of accepting that we would never be able to have our own children and then this? I have never experienced such kindness and I am not sure if I ever will again.

We accepted their offer with open arms.

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And so, with a love stronger than ever before, we started the final journey together along a well trodden path. It is the final trip and within the next eighteen months it will be over. Right now, at the time of writing this chapter, I do not know the outcome and, yes, I am scared and I am trying desperately not to look to the future as I know it can be an unhealthy place to visit.

There is nothing I have not told you and there is nothing you don’t know about me or the pain I have felt along the way. What lies ahead is the final journey through our quest for the love of a child; our child. Will we find that love in the eyes of our new born baby? If you wish you can skip ahead and find out as, for the reader that is your privilege. Right now, standing here in my kitchen, I wish I was the reader but I am not. I wish I was the one who could put the book down and get on with my life but I can’t. But, above all else I wish I was the one who could wake up tomorrow to the sounds of my children tearing around the house at some ungodly hour of the morning, but we both know I won’t.

So, let’s turn the pages together and see where the path takes us for that is all we can do. There is no doubt it will be painful and I suspect I will lean heavily on you as the coming months unfold. Whatever happens, regardless of where we end up, know this. I am glad you’ve been there, turning the pages with me.

After you…

Work in Progress

27 December 2005

It’s been five months since I last put pen to paper. Indeed, the last time was in my kitchen when I was explaining our future move and how I didn’t know how it would turn out. Since then things have moved along at quite a rapid rate of knots and there have been times when I have caught myself coming backwards!

I have moved jobs and am now working in London for one of the larger Government Departments. It was the brain child of my new boss that I should take the opportunity to “broaden my wings”. Like the majority of his ideas following his arrival, it was poorly executed and the timing was way off target. I would like to say it has been good for the career but I am just existing at the moment, trying to look like a swan; all graceful on top but paddling like hell underneath. I am sure the powers that be will soon discover that, whilst I am paddling, I am still going round in circles!

Beth continues to work her backside off. Her boss, a bloody good guy I must add, decided to announce his retirement a few months ago so she has had to ramp herself up a couple of gears in order to provide that extra cover where it’s most needed. She also took responsibility for his leaving party which, after nineteen years in the seat, was going to be a considerable task. As always, she managed to pull it off with great skill and panache to much acclaim from those involved. Her boss has now left the building and, in the New Year, the new Head will arrive. Beth has a long year ahead of her as the new head settles in and I am sure there will be long nights and short weekends as the pair learn to work together in forming another winning partnership. I’ve said it before and I am proud to say it again; Beth is a fantastic, first class teacher who is totally dedicated to the children in her care. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that she will go a long way before she is ready to give this job up.

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So, as you can see, the past five months have been busy for the pair of us and it doesn’t seem like so much time has gone by since I last clicked on the icon on my desk top that says ‘work in progress’.

You would however, be mistaken for believing that we’ve been neglecting our Prime Directive because we’ve also been flying up and down the length of the country sourcing Fertility Clinics, studying statistics and grilling Consultants. Why? Because we bit the bullet and the final stage I talked about five months ago is very much under way.

Welcome to Phase Two!

At this stage of the game, and it’s very early, all I can really tell you is that we have egg donors, Julie and Mike, willing to give up their eggs to help us achieve our goal. All the bloods match and tests are showing a green light. They live in Durham, have two healthy children, both are content their family is complete. Julie is within the stipulated age range for Donorship as well as falling within the recommended body mass criteria. And, as far as I am concerned, they bloody well walk on water!

Now, as I see it, this sort of offer comes along only once in a lifetime so when it does you need to make sure you get it right. You need to make sure you do everything in your power to give those ‘Golden Eggs’ every opportunity to flourish and grow as they represent everything you desire in life. Now is not the time to be led by the hand nor is it the time to sit back and let others decide your future.

Now is the time when you begin to research like you’ve never researched before. You get on the internet and you trawl every fertility clinic in search of those who offer the best service on the market. You don’t take second best and you don’t take people at their word. I see it like this. Think back to the time you bought your first car. You were, perhaps, slightly naïve and a little wet behind the ears maybe? You listened to the salesman and gladly accepted what he said as you had little to no experience to suggest otherwise. He no doubt convinced you that his car was the best in the area and you no doubt, took him for his word.

Then, as time went by and you came to buy your third car you were a little more experienced and you knew what you were looking for and you knew the questions you wanted to ask. You may have even done some research into not only the car but the background history and reputation of the person you were buying it from. Could they be trusted? Had they been around for long? What was their customer service like?

A very male perspective but I am sure you know what I am saying.

And that’s exactly what we did. The results pulled up two Clinics that were almost poles apart in their approach to fertility treatment. One was at the higher end of the market with impressive stationery and very comfortable leather seats whilst the other was attached to a local hospital, had hard plastic chairs and consulted in one of the spare treatment rooms.

We visited both and subjected their consultants to what can only be called a thorough and intensive grilling. At this stage we weren’t interested in being questioned as we had too many questions of our own to ask. We wanted to discuss treatment styles alongside patient welfare; for both Donor and mother to be. We wanted to know if the Clinics employed the latest techniques and what they would be doing to handle the unique situation we found ourselves in with regards to the four hundred miles that separated the patients.

I would like to say that both Consultants performed to the best of their ability providing succinct to the point answers. I would also like to say that I would be happy for either Consultant to take our hopes and dreams and turn them into reality. And, above all else, I would like to say that both Consultants treated us with a professional respect and also as two people who had a working knowledge of their situation rather than a couple of tins on a conveyor belt.

The truth however, is one of the Clinics we visited left us cold and it was all we could do to remain seated until the end of the ‘consultation’. There was no compassion and minimal interaction between us and the Consultant. He grew very irritated when we began asking questions and even more frustrated when we sat waiting for answers. Indeed, it took three attempts to get an answer to one question about embryos being sensitive to light and only because I sat there and refused to continue until he answered. It soon became obvious that we weren’t meant to ask questions as it should have been obvious to us that we would be completely safe in his very experienced hands. As we left, walking past the posh stationery and leather chairs, we both agreed we wouldn’t be allowing those hands to hold our dog’s lead let alone anything else.

We later received a letter from the leather seated Consultant thanking us for meeting with him, at a cost of £150, (non-refundable) and also informing us that the semen sample I provided was nice and healthy. This news is always welcome and, as you can imagine, pleases me every time I hear it. The only fly in the ointment on this occasion was, unfortunately, they hadn’t actually tested me and my ‘healthy’ semen was a contributing factor for the consultation in the first place!

Idiots from the distant planet incompetence!

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The other Clinic, despite their lack of leather seats and fancy coffee machines made the grade in every way possible. The Consultant welcomed questions with open arms and did a cracking job of fielding our concerns. He knew we had travelled the length of the country and had decided to clear his evening schedule for us which is quite impressive when you consider the workload these guys have. Indeed, his entire focus was on us and our situation and the medical journey we had travelled during the last five years. Here was a man we felt completely at home with; he had the so called X Factor and was a clear winner. This was the guy who we wanted to take us through to Boot Camp.

So, as you have probably guessed, we have opted to go with the second clinic. I have yet to reply to the letter we received from the muppets with the leather seats but I am sure they’ll appreciate my efforts when I do.

If there is a lesson to be learnt here it is this: make sure you choose the treatment you want and don’t be dazzled by the science or surroundings as I suppose we may have been in the early days. Do the research and don’t be afraid to ask the uncomfortable questions as to not do so may leave you in a position of being led rather than moving forward together. Also, don’t choose a clinic just because it’s the closest one to you. There are many clinics around the country and you should study each one in depth in order to identify those with the qualities you are looking for. Go and visit them and see how they operate. You’re not investing in a new carpet, car or computer; you’re investing in a new life so you need to make every opportunity count.

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And, finally, it’s not all about statistics and success rates. You need to feel relaxed about the way the clinic treats you and your wife. These are the people who will be taking you through one of the most important and emotional journeys you and your partner will ever make. You need to know they care about you as individuals and that they will be there for you both; regardless of the outcome. Remember, this is not a small thing you are doing and therefore you need to feel safe in their hands as it is those hands that will be doing everything in their power to help answer your dreams.

Any reason why you didn't consider adoption?

Thanks Steven,

We did but that comes later.

MWA

New Year Resolutions

31 December 2005

I would be grateful if someone could do me a favour and explain just exactly where the last twelve months have gone? I mean, the last time I looked it was January and we had the whole year ahead of us. I suppose this is the thing with our situation; we measure our lives in cycles and treatments as we bounce from one round to another. We don’t actually register the days and weeks in between all of this and, when you actually stand back at take stock it’s rather quite frightening.

It also however, demands that you take every day and turn it in to something special in one way or another. Tonight we are going out to enjoy ourselves with a little bit of drinking and a whole load of dancing. Tonight we are off out to see the New Year in.

That’s why Beth is upstairs with her mum trying on party dresses and shoes. Ben and I are still sitting on our backsides watching Band of Brothers; we both know we have enough time to get ready but we’re playing a silent game of chicken to see who has the guts to leave it the longest before we have to make a move. Ben will win; he has the stubborn streak of a mule; a lot like his daughter I must add.

We try to do this every other year with our friends as it’s nice to get dressed up once in a while and let the hair down; even though mine is a little on the short side to start with. The men folk wear the standard black tie whilst the ladies made their grand entrances in all their finery and I must say Beth does me proud every time. She truly is a beauty and I fall in love with her all over again when she comes down the stairs in her party dress, dancing shoes and sparkly stones.

This year we decided to join the oldies at a local dinner dance at the Officers Club in Colchester. Plans had been made and tickets purchased well in advance in anticipation of a cracking New Years Party. On arrival we were met with drinks and nibbles and shown to our table by a most attentive young lady; the band struck up and we were off and running.

Within the hour things turned a little colourful as we realised that we were stuck with the ‘Glen Miller Tribute Band’ for the entire evening as there was no disco to be seen. On closer inspection we began to notice that both Beth, me and our friends were in fact the youngest guests at the party. As I am the youngest amongst our friends that made me Team Junior, Mr Vice if you like. As the band did it’s best to convince us they were ‘In the Mood’ even the oldies began to realise maybe, just maybe, this was going to be one of the longest nights of the year.

By eleven O’clock us ‘youngsters’ had retired to the Sports bar in search of a little relief from the heaving OAP mosh pit that was the dance floor. It never ceases to amaze me how much stamina oldies have. I mean, where on earth do they find the energy needed to strut their stuff for hours on end? Although the music was a little repetitive they were up there pounding the floor as if it was December the 31st 1999.

As we caught our breath and discussed what we would be doing for the next outing in 2007 the Band Leader called everyone to the dance floor and told them to form a large circle. This went on for some time and we were left wondering what was about to happen. As usual we tried to guess and I suggested the Hokey Cokey adding that if it was I’d drop my pants right there in the bar. As the first, instantly recognisable notes of that very tune struck up I was made, by my dear wife and friends, to eat my words! If you’ve never heard a brass band push out the Hokey Cokey with your trousers around your ankles on New Years Eve you’ve never lived. And that’s all I have to say about that.

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As it turned out, the evening was just fine. It gave us a chance to let our hair down amongst friends and family and really have a good time. Yes, the music was a little interesting and the guest list rather entertaining but did it really matter? We were amongst people who loved us and cared for us in every way possible. There were no tentative questions about how we were and how things were going with our, you know, situation? No, this was a time for fun and drunken laughs; a time for the pair of us to recharge. A time we both needed so very much.

So, to the New Year; 2006. We know it’s going to be another tough one and as yet, we have no idea how it’s going to turn out. Of course we have everything crossed that our new found lease of hope, the donor, will work but we are taking one step at a time. For the last five years we have pulled the wish bone giving to us by Beth’s mum as she has made turkey soup on Boxing Day. This year she had to force us to pull it as we are both being cautious with those wishes. I suppose it’s a protective thing as we are trying, already, to minimise the pain and hurt we know could be waiting just over the horizon. At the second attempt we had dreamed of naming our children; the Irish children to be precise and, on the morning of 23rd March 05 a small piece of me died as I realised that would never happen. This time I am being careful, this time I refuse to go through that pain as it’s a bloody hard wall to hit and an even harder one to climb over.

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We are both looking to the future with excitement and trepidation as that is all we can do. We tend to skirt around the fact that it’s going to be another tough year which could go one of two ways. All that remains is the discovery of the exact direction.

When I stop and think about what I wished for this time last year as Beth and I cuddled up under the duvet I can only hope this time my wish comes true. We need it so much to be our turn, not only because it’s all we want but because we have so much love inside us waiting to be released. I look at Beth and I know she yearns to hold her child and feel the bond only a mother experiences. Right now, I would do anything to give her what she wants; what she needs, what we both need She is my wife, my best friend and this whole retched situation, I know, is slowly killing her from the inside.

Therapy Take 3


If there’s one thing I have learnt over the previous five years it’s that therapy, counselling, tree hugging, navel gazing or whatever you want to call it, is king. I know people laugh at the Americans for a whole host of reasons but the one thing they seem to do well is simply getting things off their chest and out of their system. They sit themselves down and simply talk about the things going on inside their heads. It’s a basic concept but it’s one that works.

I don’t know why talking is so good and I don’t claim to know how it works. What I do know, however, is that it just seems to hit the mark every time I need it to. There is no skill on our behalf as all we have to do is turn up and answer questions. No, the skill lies on the side of the person sitting opposite us; the counsellor. They have trained for this moment and simply seem to know what to say and when to say it so that the results, our answers, are what we need to hear. It is a skill honed over many years of practice and patience and it is a skill only a few possess. And the best part is that it is a skill that can be put to spectacular use when crafted by the right mind.

This time however, it’s different. This time it’s personal.

Not only are we being counselled but the other couple, the donor couple, are also going through the same process. We aren’t being grilled and we aren’t undergoing some sort of test to see if we have what it takes to be parents. This time it’s all about how we will cope with being part of the donor programme that could deliver the one thing we have been looking for; a child to call our own.



Also, just to throw a bit of colour into the mix, as our donors live in Durham it means a great deal of traveling up and down the country to take part in the sessions. Of course, this is not a problem and we do it because it’s what we have to do. The early starts however are, shall we say, interesting. Then, as every new parent will tell you, if you’ve just had a baby the early mornings are something you’ll get used to so we decide to stop the moaning before we start. As a crusty old Corporal once told me: “If you’re looking for sympathy O’Connor, you’ll find it in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.”

The sessions are mandatory as we are, once again dealing with the NHS and the Government has set very strict guidelines on how to deal with this type of situation. It is imperative that the welfare of the child is the prime concern for all involved. In a way this always makes me smile as it’s one of the many things that irks me about the situation in which we find ourselves. You see, I know that I can walk along any high street or visit any shopping centre and witness children of all ages whose immediate welfare can be questioned. A teenage single mother, children with clothes hanging off their little bodies, dirty faces, swearing, smacking; the list is far from exhaustive. And the Government has the audacity to question me over how I intend to raise my child? I wonder if welfare ‘Hit Squads’ will ever be seen patrolling the streets asking intrusive questions of those parents who were lucky enough not to be infertile?

I very much doubt it.

But, like the previous six years, I bite my tongue and play the game because that’s what I need to do. I need to make sure the Government of the day is happy with my stability, financial dexterity and mental capacity to such an extent that they deem the pair of us suitable parent material. After this, we are allowed to buy a licence that entitles us to proceed with fertility treatment. And please, don’t get me started on the whole ‘buying a licence’ thing.

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So, the counselling is not only for us but the Donors, Julie and Mike who have volunteered to help. They know we are more than grateful for this shatteringly generous offer but I doubt if they will ever know just how humbled we both really are. They have literally offered the chance of life and that in itself is simply beyond comprehension and, if it works then we will ourselves be complete. If it fails then so be it; my gratitude and love for them will remain forever.

To begin with, we are counselled separately from Julie and Mike. The Counsellor, Jane, wants to get to know us before she moves onto the group sessions. I think we are more relaxed than she expected us to be and this slightly throws her. Beth and I have entered into this third process with a more laid back attitude than the previous sessions and it really shows. Why so relaxed? Because we know the pain that follows failure and this time we have protected ourselves from it. After the second attempt you read about how lost we were. You were there when I took the call from the clinic and you were there as felt the anger beginning to take hold. We are determined to ride this storm in the biggest boat we can find, with strong steel sides and a massive engine to boot!

It was slightly amusing, sitting there waiting for Jane to take stock of our more than relaxed approach. We are confident in our attitude and recognise that she is only doing her job. Beth and I have become hardened to this sort of situation and, where once we would have found it awkward and difficult; we now know its all part of a game we have to play. We know we have to say the right things at the right time to the right people and that’s what we do. I sometimes wonder if the people who ask the questions think we don’t spend time preparing the answers. We’re a team and, like any other team we know how the other players think and we react accordingly; we call it editing on the hoof.

After ten minutes Jane finally locates her stride and begins the process we have become accustomed to. She is keen to know what makes us tick and why we are prepared to go to such extremes to have a family. At this point I make a mental note to send her a copy of this book when I am finished. She also wants to know how we will deal with the fact that the child will, genetically, belong to another woman. This is a twist from the normal path and this is the moment the penny drops; this is not about us but rather how we will cope with a child that has no genetic connection to Beth whatsoever.

She really pushes this point and wants to know how we see ourselves telling the child where it came from and when we will do it? Now, I have a problem with this as she is using words such as ‘telling’, ‘came from’ and ‘when’. Even to me, with my freaky need to look beyond the immediate future, this is asking too much, way too early. One step at a time woman!

After a while she begins to sound like a one trick pony and we both settle into the camp of least resistance and agree to consider the options as and when they arise. We’re not exactly agreeing with her but the room is closing in and we both need to breathe fresh air. Of course, she has a point and we must be ready to make that decision of telling our child where he or she came from. I have watched enough episodes of ER and Casualty to know that the day may come where we could be faced with a life saving operation where the genetics issue will arise and there will be the uneasy end of programme music. Or not!

If I am brutally honest I don’t want people to look at my child and know he or she is not ours, who has that right? I want my family to be mine in every sense. I don’t want people to drive away from our house discussing how much junior looks like me but, “of course, there is no resemblance to Beth because, well, there can’t be can there”?

Am I selfish? Damn right I am! Tell me I am wrong, I dare you!

Of course, Jane hones in on this like a heat seeking missile. She labels it a control issue and launches into scenarios where we could announce it to people. She suggests the child’s first birthday or another significant family gathering such as Christmas or even the Christening.

Freak Alert!

No, for now, the topic is closed as we simply cannot imagine what we will do. In fact, I suspect we will not know until we are holding the child, our child in our arms. Until that time we will discuss it between ourselves and the few people who know what is happening. That’s right; there is only a handful, eight in total, who know about the situation. And, for now, that’s the way it will remain.

The couples session, or the ‘swingers gathering’ as we called it, was much of the same and Jane was keen to get into the disclosure issue again. Now, I am not usually one for putting my foot down and I do realise she has a job to do but this time I delivered both barrels with enough style to make even Vinnie Jones wince.

To be honest I had had enough of this not so well hidden agenda and, after flying up from Southampton that morning, catching the 0530 red eye express, I was in no mood to piss about. The other three sat there in quiet support as I laid it on the line that disclosure will be dealt with by us and will be done so in the best way we feel would benefit our child. We would, of course, take stock of the Government guidelines but at the same time we realised that’s all they were; guidelines. Following on from this, I told her that any decision would be taken at the right time for us; all others, including the faceless Government committee who had considered such issues, would take a back seat. Damn, I bet half of them have children of their own.

And do you know the best thing? If and when I go off on one, Beth tends to finish up with “I think what Alex is trying to say is….” This time however, she sat there and winked at me as if to say “Yep, that’s right, so screw your Government Policy and the horse it rode in on”.

Of course, Jane realised she had pushed too far and promptly backed off. Quickly. We knew then as we know now that she was just doing her job and hold no malice towards her or the Government but there is a side of this whole thing that is simply not fair. Why are we being made to answer the difficult unanswerable questions so early in the process? Why are we the odd ones out?
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Looking back I realise now that Jane was actually trying to impose a set of actions upon us. She was trying to establish when and how we would conform with laid down guidelines and adhere to the official thinking and latest research rather than talking us through the options available to us. This causes me some concern as I thought we were there to be counselled on how we would cope with the upcoming procedure and all it entailed. How can a counsellor, who should be there to guide you through your inner most thoughts and fears try to push you towards a final answer? Surely her role was to help us listen to ourselves; helping us to talk through the issues that we may have difficulty addressing?

Perhaps I am doing Jane an injustice. Then again, perhaps she did that herself.

I cant help but read these posts,I am not sure why maybe because for a time I too thought I would never have children afterlosing 4 but if this was a book I think I would skip to the last page just to see if you did get youre child.