A Quest For Happiness

A great way of keeping them podgy pussies in good shape…

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Are you old enough to remember this?

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After almost a year of living together, ‘Jack’ and I settled comfortably we had even got ourselves a dog, a beautiful German Shepard puppy whom we called Malaka, she a mischievous little thing. One day I had managed to buy myself a beautiful pair of heeled shoes for a wedding we were attending, I say managed because I was born with a deformity and wearing heels was usually a no-no, I was so chuffed that I could walk in them and my foot looked relatively normal in them but this particular day I had left them on the dining chair still in the box, Malaka was 8 or 9 month old, I had just popped out for five minutes to go and get some milk but as soon as I walked back in I could tell she had been naughty as her ears were pinned back with sorry looking eyes, I walking into the dining room where I saw one of my lovely shoes mauled, teeth marks embedded in the heel, it had also had the toe chomped on so had been converted to peep toe shoes. I loved her to bits but I think the chewing of ‘Jacks’ leather sofa was the final straw and I had to let her go, luckily though my mums best friend took her in so I was able to see her when I wanted.

‘Jacks’ attitude started to change toward me after that, he started to go out more often alone with his friends and not coming home till the early hours, me being young and in love I often shrugged it off making excuses for him like, he has been working hard he needs a break or more often than not he needed a break from me, I never mentioned it to my parents, from the offset they didn’t like him and i suppose my stubbornness I didn’t want them to prove my judgment wrong, whenever I visited them I always appeared happy and content but inside my confidence was being rocked.

One night while ‘Jack was getting ready for another night out I asked him if everything was ok with us both, I was quite shocked when he told me I was nagging him, I had only asked him the once, then before I knew it he punched me in the face and walked out of the door leaving me crumpled on the Floor holding my tear stained bruised cheek, back then I adored him so when he returned home that night  and asked me to forgive him and explained that  he’d had a bad day and that he would never do it again i believed him and accepted his apologies, my face slightly swollen and tender I started to tell myself that I had deserved it because I shouldn’t have asked him questions.

For about four weeks everything seemed ok so I had thought I was in the kitchen chopping some tomatoes while ‘Jack’ was lying on the sofa watching TV he had shouted through to me to be quiet but because I was making supper I hurriedly finished chopping the last tomato when all of a sudden he came rushing out into the kitchen,grabbed my arm then punched me repeatedly in the face, trying to protect myself i cowered between the fridge and the old fashioned boiler eventually he stopped and went to lay back on the sofa to resume watching whatever it was he was watching, I could feel my eye swelling and closing up, lifted my hand up to my eye to feel it I winced as my fingertip brushed over my cheekbone, hot tears were streaming down my face and for a few moments I again blamed myself,  telling myself if I had been quiet he wouldn’t have hit me again, but then anger began to fill inside and lifted myself up off of the floor, I walked through the lounge without saying a word and left the house.

I had no idea where I was going to go, I didn’t want my parents to see my face the only person  I could turn to was my sister, so with my head bowed down as I walked down the street to reach my sister’s flat, when she opened the door the look of horror showed on her face, she pulled me inside and asked me what happened I made her promise not to tell my mother before I told her  that I had been annoying ‘Jack’ and had asked for it, I could see the worry on her face and she begged me to tell my parents but I refused, she told me to go to the bathroom while she got a tea towel filled with ice. Finally I got a glimpse of my face I felt sick, my right eye was completely closed and a dark purple, it was shiny where it was swollen, when I tried to open it I could just see that the white of my eye was blood red and there was blood trickling from the corner, tears started to well up in my eyes again making my bloodied eye sting all the more.

My sister returned and placed the iced towel on my face, the pain just shot through my cheekbone but after a few seconds it began to feel comfortable. Dawn suggested that I stayed over for the night which I readily accepted, amazingly over the evening I forgot what had happened a few hours earlier, apart from my cheek being very tender and a less swollen eye, my sister had promised not to tell my parents and advised me to leave ‘Jack’. I lay on the sofa that night not being able to get to sleep, thinking about what I should do, whether to leave ‘Jack’ or whether to stay, I loved him and it had been my fault why he lashed out, did he love me in return or hate me that much he could hurt me again, either way I would have to make a decision.

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First and foremost I want to apologize to my regular readers for slacking on my posts this past week, a number of reasons have contributed as to why I haven’t posted

• Lack of nicotine has taken away my ability to think of anything else other than cigarettes
• A bad case of PMT made me think murderous thoughts of anything or anyone remotely happy
• A combination of the two above, making me more insane  than Hannibal Lector being forced to go vegetarian
• Catching up with heroes
• Watching loads of films
• Pampering my Kitty
• Playing online bingo
• Sleep
• Sleep
• and more sleep

But just to let you all know I am feeling much better now and will be resuming my life story, depressing as it may seem. I guess in a way it is helping me to move forward.

I also wanted to let you all know that I am really pleased with myself as if I’m now officially a non smoker even though it’s only been a week, the other three before that I was having one or two a day. I have also started a keep fit regime, the ten minute warm ups kill me before I even start, it just shows how unfit I really am, but I’m persevering, bless my other half he has even started with me, but I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone about Natalie Cassidy’s DVD we have been working out to so I won’t mention it .

So all in all life is good at the moment, but I’m sure it will settle down again soon and I will be back to the normal miserable me.

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heres my little baby going bonkers over a box of catnip.

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One year after being with my fiancé and moving to a different part of the country I once again had the yearning to become pregnant so I approached my doctor in my new hometown and again asked if there was a possibility that we could be put on the NHS list but the answer was the same as I had heard the first times I had asked and the reason was the same. By this time I was really angry with the system, as it was known that there were asylum seekers coming here and receiving treatments of all sorts plus there was the feeling of me being punished again. News reports were on TV about how some parents were neglecting there children or killing them It just wasn’t fair, my family and friends suggested that I give up on the idea of IVF and that we should go for adoption to which I told them it wasn’t the same, I wanted to experience childbirth, wanted to have that special bond that mothers say that they get,and the chances of being able to adopt a baby was and still is very slim,

We settled down and aimed for something different, something we knew for certain we could get without risking anything, buying our own house, I had the deposit from my divorce settlement and then we were accepted for a mortgage, we were on the lower end of the scale but was pleased we were allowed one, so for a couple of months we searched for a house that would become our home, because we were only allowed so much for our mortgage we were limited to what we could buy, some houses looked lovely on the outside ,but as soon as you walked in thats where the problem started. One house we went to See was ideal ,it needed modernizing a lot but we figured it was a challenge ,affordable and doable,then the agent dropped a bombshell and told us there was a garden center behind the house and owned most of the garden, the only part we would have got was a little bit of a patio, you couldn’t even put a table on it without being cramped. so told the agent we weren’t interested. We kept on looking but wasn’t having much luck as most houses were over our budget, then I spotted a house and showed the advert to my fiancé, he didn’t like the look of it on the outside, but I said to have a look, what harm would it do ,it couldn’t be worse than what we had already looked at.

When we arrived at the house it was already empty, we hadn’t arranged to go through the agent just yet we just wanted to check out the area, and roughly what the property was like. As soon as we saw it we knew that it was going to be the one that would be our home, so rang the agent to ask if we could look inside, so the following day there we were looking inside the house, on the outside it looked fairly small but as soon as you stepped in, the size shocked you, it needed a lot of modernizing as it still had an old parkray, a kitchen that you couldn’t swing a cat in, and the windows needed replacing. The house just felt right to us both so we put an offer in, there was a few other offers mainly from property developers and at one point I thought that we wouldn’t get it but ,after a few weeks we were told that it was ours, we were over the moon even more so when we finally moved in,acquiring a stray cat while we were at it, Kyuss, as soon as we opened the door to move in our things she trotted in, we have had her ever since, that was four years ago.

Despite now having a home, a loving partner, and an adopted cat I still wanted my own family, I wasn’t prepared to give up so last year I suggested to my fiancé we try one more time at the doctors to see if we could get help, this time my doctor listened to us and told us he would refer us to a specialist to See if we would be accepted on NHS, this time we had hope as the last four times I had asked they had just refused there and then so even getting to see a specialist was further than what we had got before. On the day of the appointment I was nervous but at the same time  I was prepared to hear them turn me down, yet again.

The specialist asked me some questions about my last three cycles, and whether I had been pregnant before to which I replied that I hadn’t he then told us to wait in the room while he went and checked something. My fiancé and I sat there chatting while we waited, I felt that the specialist was going to return and tell us that we couldn’t get any help so was prepared fro the answer, what I wasn’t prepared for was hearing the specialist telling us we would be put on the list, the tears just streamed down my cheeks, for thirteen years I had been asking for help but kept getting refused, I was so excited and couldn’t thank him enough, but through my excitement I forgot to ask him any questions, luckily my fiancé did, and asked how many cycles we could have, I was surprised to hear him say that we could have two cycles, I was only expecting the one. Next we asked him how long the waiting list was, that’s when my excitement ebbed away a little, he told us that it was three and a half years long but because of my age when my name comes to the top of the list the hospital may refuse the treatment as they won’t treat anyone over the age of 41.

So here I am now a year on and just recently been told that there is still a three year wait, which means I could possibly miss out, I’m not giving up hope just yet though, at least I’m on that list I tried so hard to get on in the first place. I just pray that it will be in time, I think I deserve at least one chance of being a mother, that’s when my life would be complete.

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Since I was young I have always had a maternal streak and have yearned to become a mother,  but unfortunately for me I am unable to conceive naturally and have to undergo IVF (In Vitro Fertilization) treatment.

When I got married to my ex husband he had already had two sons aged  ten and eleven, from a previous marriage who where living with their mother. In my bid to become a natural mother I approached my doctor to ask for help and ask if it was possible to put me and my husband on the NHS (National Health Service) waiting list for treatment, as we knew we would never be able to afford the treatment ourselves unless we took out loans. To my disappointment my doctor had told me that we would not be able to go on the list I was even more disappointed and angry as to the reason why. I would have accepted and understood if she had told me it was because there wasn’t enough funding, as IVF is a costly treatment, instead she had told me it was because my husband at the time had already had two children. I felt as if I was being penalized for his previous fortune and fell into a depression at times,ashamed to say I had wished that his sons had never existed.

Although I had tried my hardest with his sons without trying to be their mother I never felt loved by them, I never received cards from them ,no matter whether it was hand made or not, a little something would have made me feel special to them, It used to upset me that I would take them into town to make sure that they got something for their mother and secretly wish that maybe one day that they would do the same for me, in the nine years I was with my ex husband they never did.

Three years into my marriage My desire for a child got stronger and decided with my ex that we would get a loan and go private, so when the bank granted us the loan we were over the moon and returned to my doctor to ask if she could refer us for IVF and informed her that we wanted to go private, within two weeks of referring us I was sitting there in front of my consultant discussing which treatment would be suitable for us,as my ex had a vasectomy after his last child the consultant told us that there would not be a problem matching donor sperm and in this case we were to receive IVF. Two weeks later I was to endure numerous injections administered by my self and after just a month, when my follicles were large enough and my eggs matured my ex had to administer one in my butt so that my eggs would be ready for collection two days later. I did have problems with the collection but luckily 11 eggs were collected and ready for fertilization, After four days I had to return to the hospital to have my embryos transplanted we had decided on three so that there would be more chance of one attaching to my womb. I was even more careful during the waiting period which was two weeks, since starting I had not drank alcohol, smoked or done anything strenuous, so had so much hope but on the New Years Eve of 1994 I discovered that my treatment had failed.

Feeling disheartened, hurt  and useless as a woman I just plodded along appearing to many of my friends and family that I was strong. I hurt even more when family or friends who fell pregnant avoided to tell me their good news and often found out from others that they were expecting, I know they were considering my feelings but it was not telling me that got me down. Ironically after the failed treatment all I saw was baby adverts and pregnant women in town showing off their beautiful growing bumps and imagined how it would feel to have something so small moving around, feeling the body changing, the nausea, I would have given anything to experience that, so six months down the line we tried again, receiving another loan, again it failed, this time it was Easter and again I appeared strong.

After now owing the bank £7000 for two failed cycles we decided enough was enough and that we not only afford anymore treatments but we had to get on with our lives with the prospect of me being childless.There were times when I had really bad bouts of depression, hating my ex for having children, hating them, hating everyone even myself so to blot away the pain of it I turned to smoking cannabis again, of course it didn’t take away the hurt it just made it worse, but at the time I thought it was helping, my parents became concerned for me so I started lying to them and told them that I had stopped, so for two years my life was just cannabis filled, that was until I saw an advert in the paper asking for egg donors in exchange for reduced cycles of IVF. Mentioning it to my ex we got yet another loan, he asked if I could cope with that, I decided I could and thought, if I wasn’t lucky again at least someone else in the same situation might be, so booked an appointment, this time it was at a different hospital. and this time it was for a different treatment, given my past history with IVF they thought that the best option would be ICSI (Intra-cytoplasmic Sperm Injection).

It wasn’t long before I was called and told that they were ready for me to start my cycle, they had had to wait for recipient whom to me would be unknown. The woman would receive half of my eggs that were collected and asked if i wanted to know the outcome of her cycle,whether it was successful or not, to which I replied that I didn’t want to know. So again four weeks later my eggs were collected, there was nine this time, I got to keep five of them and the recipient had four, I’d had so much hope on this cycle but yet there was another disappointment I never found out about the recipient of my eggs, but I do hope for her it was successful, If it was then the child would be roughly seven now, I hang on to the thought that there is a mini me running around somewhere, I just hope he or she hasn’t got my nose.

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