Since my BFP and subsequent miscarriage, I’ve received loads of emails from fellow bloggers, from readers and from lurkers. I have loved them all as they have made me feel like people out there really do care, that people out there, who I don’t even know are routing for me, for us, for our success or at least our happy ending.

The other thing I’ve noticed is just how this part of my journey is very misunderstood by many, including those on the infertility journey. Its a reminder of for me that I’ve reached a fork in the road and have chosen the path somewhat less traveled.  There are IF sista’s out there who get where I’m coming from, mostly because they too are in a similar position to me, have either given up all together on parenthood and moved on or are seeking an alternative journey to parenthood.

The majority of the emails I receive do their best to convince me that going on birth control is a big mistake. I’ve written about 30 emails trying my best to explain my position on this, but I see most don’t (understandably) get it.

So here is the deal – I want to go on the injection or the Merina so that I can shut my menstrual cycle down completely. Many object to this because of the possibility of a miracle.  Now folks, let me just say that falling pregnant has not always been so difficult for me, so it is always a possibility, I could potentially fall pregnant again at any point in the next few years. The problem is this … aside from being challenged in the falling pregnant department, I am severely handicapped in the staying pregnant department. This means that should a miracle pregnancy occur, given that the cause of my miscarriages has yet to be established, I would in all likelihood still miscarry at oh, say around 5w6d like have for the past 7 pregnancies. The other thing about this wondrous miracle pregnancy, that I have lost the will to cling to, while many still believe it could happen is this: how many of you could say that you tried to conceive for 7.5 years? Let me break it down for you. 7.5 years = 90 cycles/months of ttc = 90 months @ 4.2 weeks in a month = 378 weeks of ttc = 378 weeks = 2646 days that I have spent with the same damned internal dialogue! Maybe this month it will happen! Maybe this cycle will the THE ONE. Maybe this egg with be THE golden egg. Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe. Just ttc’ing for 12 months is exhausting! Never mind what the ttc mileage I’ve managed to clock up. So while I love so much that all of you want to try and see us succeed, please can I ask that you respect my choice to go on birth control. My reality is simple… after 7 miscarriages I never ever ever ever ever want to be pregnant ever ever ever again! So the logical choice to avoid that because there is the possibility that it could happen naturally, is for me to start birth control. My reason for the injection or Merina is simple, it doesn’t matter if it screws up my cycles, I don’t need to have cycles. Even in the remote chance that I did change my mind, it wouldn’t actually matter because we would require ART with the use of Donor egg, so even if the BC did cock up my cycles, the whole ART process is so artificially managed and stimulated that it wouldn’t actually matter. Of course the other issue is this,  after 7.5 years of TTC, we have in effect spent in excess of R250 000 on ART. It has begun to feel like a bottomless pit which W and I stand at and wastefully throw money into. When I think about what we could have done with all that money…….. well no point in regrets!

At this stage its looking very unlikely that I will change my mind and consider another IVF. Just the thought of it causes me anxiety. I have friends going through IVF cycles as we speak, reading their updates cause me to sweat profusely, get very bad anxiety and worst of all feel rather sick on the inside. The thought of lying on that scan bed, no knickers on with that d.i.l.d.o cam coming towards me is enough to make me want to vomit it fills me with such repulsion. I never ever want to me unconscious/semi conscious and half naked in a theater with strangers using a scan assisted probe to pierce the walls of my v.a.g.i.n.a. and suck out eggs that have been artificially matured by having me poke needles in myself.

I am done. This journey is over for me. And while many continue to have hope in medical science, I no longer do.

I love you all for your support and encouragement and please keep the emails coming, but try to understand that my choices are not your choices and that while you don’t necessarily understand the choices I have made, know that I have very strong reasons for doing so.