What a gloriously beautiful day! The sun is shining and the birds are singing – well, gathering the trees and chattering excitedly at the thought of flying south soon, I think. The leaves are beautiful red, green and gold and the sky is blue with white fluffy clouds in it. My favourite time of the year is Summer, but every season has its beautiful days, and this is one of Autumn’s.
When we’d failed at our second IVF attempt that November, our lives went on pretty much as normal. We went to work during the week and kept ourselves busy during the evenings and weekends. We went to the allotment clearup day and still nobody knew. It seems incredible to think that now, because everybody knows our every move these days! But then, we hadn’t told a soul, and just comforted each other on our own and presented the jolly, happy faces to the world to hide the pain.
I can’t remember now how it came about; perhaps it was a case of one infertile person recognising another, or maybe he’d remembered our first attempt, but one of the chaps at work told me that his wife had had a premature menopause and was on, I think Metrodin in order that they could try to have a baby. They had tried for a long time and failed, and were trying again. I wished them well; I certainly knew what they were going through, although our circumstances were different. It was the first time that I’d met anyone else who had had fertility problems, but it was certainly not the last.