The assvice just keeps on coming

Yesterday I went to the acupuncturists. Because it is a training clinic, each week, I am initially seen by a group of students, who ask me a number of questions about my general well-being, listen to my pulse and look at my tongue, before going off to report their findings to the Chinese Fertility Goddess herself. The CFG then comes in and repeats the whole process, before deciding on a course of treatment. She then supervises while the students insert the needles.

Yesterday, I was seen by a new group of students. How old was I, asked one of them. 'Thirty six,' I answered. 'Oh, that's no age at all,' he exclaimed, 'the newspapers are always full of stories about women having babies in their fifties: it's marvellous what doctors can do nowadays, isn't it?' 'I think you'll find those women conceived using donor eggs,' I explained, testily. 'Not necessarily,' he answered, 'I have a couple of women friends who both conceived naturally at the age of 44.'

How can this possibly be considered a helpful thing to say to somebody who has just undergone a cancelled cycle of IVF, and who is worried that her poor response could well be a sign of diminished ovarian reserve?

After the treatment, the same chap came in to remove the needles. 'Are you absolutely sure you want a baby?' he asked. 'Raising a child can be awfully hard work.'

Really? And there was I thinking that it was going to be a walk in the park! Does he not imagine that, after five years of trying to conceive, and the best part of three years of psychoanalytic psychotherapy, I have never before stopped to question my motives for wanting to become a mother?

Why am I surrounded by people offering unsolicited assvice? Why does everyone I encounter seem to have an opinion on my infertility?

The student in question informed me that yesterday was his last day in the clinic for the time being, so hopefully our paths won't cross again - otherwise I would have requested that he had no further involvement in my treatment.

I do, however, have every confidence in the Chinese Fertility Goddess. Yesterday, she spent some time explaining how she plans to tailor my treatments to support me through my IVF cycle. She also told me that I should cut down on the amount of dairy products I consume, and eat more seeds and nuts - in particular walnuts.

Such is my faith in the CFG that I immediately went out and bought a large bag of walnuts, which I am chomping through as I type!

Strange sightings and new experiences

Yesterday, I followed two Viking warriors into town. They were evidently off-duty, because they were carrying their helmets and daggers with them in carrier bags; one of them was on his mobile phone, while the other was drinking a cup of takeout coffee. Eventually, I turned off the main street to go to the acupuncture clinic, while the Vikings continued on into the centre of York - possibly to rape and pillage, but more likely to entertain the vast queues of school children waiting to visit the Jorvik Centre.

At the acupuncture clinic, I saw the Chinese Fertility Goddess, who is now back from her holidays. She listened to my pulse and looked at my tongue, before pronouncing her opinion to a hushed and reverential group of students. I'm not sure whether I understood exactly what she said - something about liver qi stagnation and blood stasis, perhaps? - but she did pick up on the fact that the pulse in my left wrist was much fainter than that in my right. When I mentioned the fact that my left ovary had not responded to the Menopur, she didn't look at all surprised, and promptly stuck two needles in its vicinity - when she put them in, a great pain shot round to the back of my body. I also had needles in the crooks of both my knees, on both calves, my right foot and my left wrist, all of which were designed to encourage the qi to flow more freely around my body. The CFG warned me that I would feel very tired and emotional after the treatment, and I did indeed have to have a sleep yesterday afternoon.

But when I got back from town, I discovered that the bread maker had arrived. So now, I may not have a bun in the oven (is that a uniquely British colloquialism for pregnancy?), but I do at least have a loaf in the bread maker!

An alternative view

From my obsessive Googling, I've discovered that acupuncture may not only help with implantation but, more importantly in the light of my recent experiences, may also encourage follicle stimulation and improve the quality of the endometrium. Having overcome my squeamishness about needles, I decided that it was perhaps time to give it a shot (no pun intended!).

I had my first consultation yesterday, having discovered that there is a large training college situated just fifteen minutes walk from my house, which offers treatment at reduced rates.

I was seen first by two second year students, who went through a standardised questionnaire with me. I was asked to outline my symptoms, and then to describe how they effected me on a day-to-day basis. What effect did they have on my emotional state? Looking into the future, how would I feel if I was still experiencing the same symptoms in five years' time?

I pondered this one for a minute. At the moment, I cannot see an end to this. I cannot fast-forward to some fantasy point in the future where everything has worked out and we finally have our longed-for child. But equally, I cannot bring myself to think that the time may come when we have explored every treatment option, and are having to learn to live with involuntary childlessness. How might I feel in five years time? Bitter, angry, dejected and exhausted, were just a few of the adjectives that came to mind. My eyes filled with tears. 'What you're describing is a chronic condition,' said one of the students, gently. It was at that point that I decided that maybe they might actually be able to grasp something of the impact of infertility.

We were then joined by a third-year student, who led the consultation, and by a training supervisor. There was a slightly disconcerting moment where I was asked to stick out my tongue, and all four of them gathered round to stare at it, and then the third year student and the training supervisor asked me a number of questions about the various treatments, tests and diagnoses we've had so far, and then a series of more detailed questions about my menstrual cycle. I'd also taken my BBT charts from the last six months with me, which the supervisor seemed particularly interested in.

Where Dr Abrupt appears to see only a malfunctioning uterus & ovaries, the acupuncturists seemed to see a whole person; they listened to my body differently. I am to go back next week for my first treatment, but at the moment feel very positive at having taken this step.

I walked home through the park. York is enjoying a spell of unseasonably warm weather at the moment, to the point where I could take my coat off and carry it with me. It is somehow easier to be optimistic when the sun is shining and the first snowdrops have appeared, and so I resolved to try to leave all the negative feelings associated with the cancelled IVF/failed IUI behind me, and to focus on moving forward to the next cycle.