This last month

Musings on love, beauty & IVF

Hi there! It’s been a moment between personal writing and I’m grateful for your patience. Sometimes when I’m *in* something, I find it tough to write about it. Today’s post was easy enough, but it does contain some bits you might find difficult, sensitive, or even just plain boring. It’s about this last month, especially around my IVF experience and includes some details on that, with pregnancy tests, etc. Be kind to yourself if you’re not in a place to read this sort of thing right now, the words aren’t going anywhere. It’s raw, mostly unedited, and exactly what I need to document in this moment. There is both an audio version and a paywall on this one, so to all of my paid subscribers — thanks for being here. xxx

It was the sharps container that threw me the first time; so yellow, so clinical and stark. This time, it makes me laugh. There’s an absurdity in this process, I think, as I fill our fridge door with IVF meds and Chinese herbs and Hydralite. On tippy toes, I pull down the green glass vintage bowl I got on sale from Salvo’s and pour the syringes in, placing them next to the lilies, because this time there needs to be more beauty.

I ask my family to send me songs for my injection playlist, to which I add gospel and R&B and a song called IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL. My cousin sends me one called Matter of Time. My sister sends me Cuntology 101. They’re both perfect.

I try to film the first day of injections, but it’s too much. Too distracting, too private. Instead, I cry and laugh and press play and pierce my skin and feel so proud. Adam’s in Thailand for work over these first few days of “stims”, but it’s okay, I don’t mind doing this bit alone.

It’s a crescent moon tonight, my favourite phase, and in what feels like the first time in months, I dance. Shirt off, bare-breasted on hands and knees, there’s a delight in my hips; my spine and pelvis come alive. I turn an old pair of flannelette pyjamas into cleaning cloths, tend to my herbs, then drip honey into coffee grounds to make a scrub for my skin.

This time, there needs to be more beauty.

The days go on. I’ve been on hormonal suppression for the two months prior, so the oestrogen boost is welcomed. It’s like spring inside, a buffer between me and the world again. Truthfully, I did not miss my bleed in the short time I needed to stop it, but I did miss the sunny rise of ovulation.