Monday, October 26, 2015
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Monday, August 10, 2015
Monday, August 3, 2015
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
The doctor persuaded me to get some injections. I was at this time in an “easy to handle” mode, when you just say: “I don`t mind” to everything. So I didn’t object when he wrote the prescription and gave me an appointment.
I woke up from this condition only the next day, when I went to the internet for tips and some encouragement from the girls on the infertility site. I asked them, how bad this shot is, that you get in your ass. In my mind`s eye, I saw huge blue bumps on my rear-end, that were caused from an infection from the shot.
I got more answers. One of them wrote to me, that the shot would not hurt; I should not be worried about it. Another one said it would hurt a little bit, and the third told me that pain would be something, that I would have to deal with when I would have a baby.
I had no choice: after taking the extra high dose of the drug and taking the ultrasound, I got my first medical shot in my butt. “You have got a slinky ass!” said the nurse, a woman in her 50´s, not a skinny one to me and added to this sentence: “That is not good news here!”
But she successfully gave me the shot, it really didn’t hurt me. We had to make love the next day and the day after, “the more the better”, like the doctor said. Before his time, we had to have no sex for five days, he ordered.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Monday, July 6, 2015
What kind of clothes does someone wear for an introductory meeting with their psychologist? I pondered the options thoroughly. I did not want to go in too rigid, formal clothes, I would cry anyway, so that would be a ridiculous, hollow disguise. But I did not want to seem to be like a little girl either, wearing some little dress, like something I would wear on weekends.
Finally I decided to wear jeans and a slim-fit striped blouse. I did not want to dress up too much, but I wanted to look decent. Like the models in Vogue on the way from one fashion show to another. But of course I had to wear a push-up bra. I had not gone anywhere without it for a long time. I tied my hair and put on a light make-up.
Lovászi’s private practice was located downtown, and the smell of incense sticks and a bit meditative music welcomed me there. It was Enya perhaps. I shook hands with the psychologist whose picture I had seen on the web somewhat stunned. I really liked his CV. Originally he was a programmer, like my husband, and later he worked as a scriptwriter, which is, to some extent, related to what I did at that time.
I liked that he had tried different things, just like me.
I felt a bit embarrassed, but I sat down and told him to turn that music off if possible. “It makes me upset”, I told him. So I introduced myself to my brand-new psychologist in about a minute.
But from then on, everything went well. We talked about my family. A bit afraid, I said a few bad things about my mother. I was afraid, because I still had the feeling that one should not say bad things about their mother. She couldn't be bad. Only me.
After this, he told me his theory. He had had several patients similar to me. Similar in the sense that the women could not get pregnant. And also in having been together with their partners for a long time. After such a long time, feelings towards each other are more like between siblings.
“What do you feel? Are you still a woman in this relationship?” he asked me. “Do you always dress the same way? Wearing trousers, tying your hair?”
I felt deeply offended. This stranger looks at me and immediately thinks that we are suffering from the “old married couple syndrome”, meaning that my husband does not want me anymore, when I am not even thirty yet, and I only gained 7lbs since we were together, even that because I tried very hard to put on some weight.
“Why, do you think real women always wear skirts and high-heels?” I asked back with some sass. It made me very upset that having told him my childhood and my sister’s condition, he said that.
“I had a patient whose situation was very similar to yours. Although there it was the woman, who became a bit uncertain, but she found her way back to the relationship.
“Do you think this is the root of my problems?!” I could not believe my ears. “And what I told about you my family, is that nothing?!”
I was disappointed. The situation was the same as with the gynaecologist. We had a protocol here as well. At the gynaecologist, the protocol said that I should get my period every 28 days, I should ovulate on the 14th day, my progesterone level should be over 21, and so on. The aim of my gynaecologist was to achieve these, and when we succeeded, he was very satisfied. After every single unsuccessful cycle he was happy about the good results of the blood test. Once, when I was running out of patience, I told him that unfortunately I cannot put these achievements into a cradle.
It seems that there is a certain path to follow at the therapy as well…
I went home with mixed feelings, but I was proud that I did not cry. I did not want to pity myself.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
but the new cover
BEFORE I GOT PREGNANT
2 IVFs and 2 beautiful lines
What do you think?
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
During lunch the TV was on. When I served the soup, on TV news they were speaking about subsidies for in vitro fertilization.
“When will I have grandchildren?” my mother asked. She knew the month, when I had the last pill.
We didn’t have a good relationship with her, even at that time, but I told her about the bigger changes in my life. I told her for example, that I had stopped taking the pill, but the doctor told us we should use some other method for 3 months.
“And what if you get pregnant anyway?”, my mother had asked me then.
During my whole life, I always used to hear only bad things from her. About the past, about present and future, about me and about other people.... I was acclimatized, and I knew, that she was an alarmist. But this question was now, “When would I have grandchildren?” this closed a long chapter in my life. Till this point, I tolerated every malicious comment from her. They soured my life. This last question went overboard, and this time, I couldn’t let her off.
If there is a situation when a woman only should see the beautiful and good things of the world around her, then it’s the time when she is expecting a baby. It’s a taboo, to talk about bad things, scaring a pregnant woman. Now, I realized that I would have to defend myself and my baby from my mother, if I should get pregnant.
When she heard the news on the TV, she asked: “When will I have grandchildren? The most frightening thing was, that I should perceived that her intention was to touch a sore spot. She wanted to touch a sore spot in another person, because she didn’t want to feel her own pain. The fact that this other person, who wanted to have a baby now for 14 months in vain, was her own daughter, was circumstantial. Practically not her fault, out of sheer habit, she just jumped at the chance to touch a wound.
I wished for myself a time as a pregnant woman, just like any other young woman, to be a smooth-tempered, happy, expectant mother. I realized, that it was not easy, to secure the circumstances for this. But I didn’t know, how long and how hard it would be. On my birthday, I secretly placed the letters that I had written one year earlier while planning for our wedding, into my mothers handbag. They were not hateful but not kind either. I was following the advice of a book entitled Toxic Parents. I calmly listed the things, that my parents hurt me with in the past and the things that still hurt me in the present. I asked them to not to interfere with my happy life with Ádám.
This letters were in a drawer for a year. I did not give them their letters earlier. I didn’t want to hurt them.
But on this day, after this question, and after more than a one year of trying to get pregnant without success, I placed the envelopes in her bag.
And then – I waited. From the moment, that they left our house, I stared at my phone, expecting the call from my mother, shouting at me “How could you write things like this? It was not like that…”
But she didn’t call me. Neither on that day, nor the next, nor the third…
I didn’t dare to phone her, so I had no choice: I had to wait.
On Wednesday evening, finally the phone rang : It was my brother. He said, our mother found the letters, and after that, she cried all day long, asking, “Why does she keep talking about the old things?”
So, finally, my mother answered my letter, that I wrote according to the instructions of the psychologist. She answered with silence. She didn’t call. She didn’t write . She never ever spoke about that letter to me. She sent her message through my brother: She was crying, because of me. Because I had caused sadness to her with my admonitions.
Also my dad answered in his way. He showed no kind of reaction, and handled me after that the same, as before. As he would never read a letter, that would tell him that he always escaped from problems, and let my mother find the solutions. He left emotionally a long time ago, to save a sheltered life for himself.
I was not happy about it, but now, I had proof – my parents gave me the proof – that I was right. I wished, I wouldn’t be right. I would be happy, if it would turn out, that I was not right. I wished, that my parents would repel my charges, or they would allow the problems and would offer an apology, finally saying: “But we always loved you, my daughter!”
I decided, to keep myself at arm’s length from their negative influence. Three months rolled by, before I visited them the next time. At that point, I learned, that I am the one who was hurt most. When we didn’t keep in touch with each other, I thought I was a heartless child. So there was only one choice left to me: to have a superficial contact to them. To limit the possibility of emotional injury.
On Mothers Day, Ádám and I went to my parents with a box of bonbons. I didn’t want to give my mother flowers, so I gave her bonbons. She had now no possibility, to tell me, that the flowers are not pretty, or that they didn't have fresh buds– she couldn’t say anything bad about cherry liqueur bonbons.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
If you have a problem, it could help you if you know you are not alone.
1 of 6 couples have difficulties with conceiving, but not many of them are open to speaking about it.
There are some celebrities who told their stories to encourage others.
You can find some list of celebrities who were struggling with fertility problems below.
As you can see, there are very different personalities and body types.
There are thin and curvy, easy going and drama queens.
There is not "One Type" of person with fertility problems.
Common to me is, that everybody on the lists have had problems conceiving, but all of them are now proud parents.
12 Celebrities Who Have Struggled With Infertility
(Mariah Carey, Jimmy Fallon, Hugh Jackman, Lisa Osbourne, Céline Dion, Gwen Stefani, Sarah Jessica Parker, Nicole Kidman, Courteney Cox, Kim Fields, Brooke Shields, Giuliana Rancic)
Kim And Chloe Kardashian + 10 Other Celebrities Open Up On Fertility Issues
(Kim Kardashian, Khloe Kardashian, Elisabeth Banks, Hugh Jackman, Giuliana Rancic, Mariah Carey, Nicole Kidman, Brooke Shields, Marcia Cross, Céline Dion, Courtney Cox, Rosie Pop)
5 Celebrities Who Admitted To Facing Fertility Problems
(Jaime King, Khloe Kardashian, Sarah Jessica Parker, Giuliana Rancic, Gwen Stefani, Mariah Carey)
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
“Did Anikó call you?”
“No” I said, sensing something bad. I, the amateur dressmaker, designed her wedding dress, but we did not see each other after this wedding until ours. She left my wedding very early, what hurt me that time. I thought, I would never hear anything more about her.
“She asked me for your phone number”, the teacher said.
“Oh really?” I said, “What’s up with her?”
“There is one piece of big news, but she said, I should not tell you, she wanted to…”
In a second I knew, what this big news could be.
“Will she have a baby?” I asked and mimed pleasure and smile.
“Yes” she winked to my eyes as an accomplice.
“Oh really?” I said and smiled. I was just like paralyzed with horror about waiting the call of Anikó. When we last saw each other, a half year ago, I said to her, that we wanted to have a baby very soon. She said then, they wanted to wait some time.
Anikó phoned me two days later, exactly half an hour after I received my period. She told
me the big news, that she was pregnant in the 4th month, and I congratulated her.
“And how are things with you?” she asked me.
“Umm… I m not pregnant, - I said very calmly, just as she would asked me about something not important, and would not harrow my feelings at their deepest. “Finally, I started to learn English. Here, in our language school” I said and just talked and talked and asked her about things. But it’s sure, that five minutes later, after hanging up, I couldn’t tell you what I was said. Not a word.
Taking medications, ultrasounds and blood tests again. Ádám went with me, again, and I didn’t faint, this time.
I continued learning English at full speed.
Anikó phoned me again, to ask me: “Are there any changes with you?”
I cried and freaked out, when I had my cycle on the day 31.
Suddenly, all pregnant women and young mothers became my enemies. I hated them. They were there all over, they infested everything with their big bellies and hordes of children in the streets, public transport and parks… There was no surprise that several times a week, I had to listen in the waiting rooms pregnant women telling about their one or two year old toddlers… They were everywhere! There were so many, even on the hidden paths in the forest, that some of them could be sent in smaller groups against us every fifteen minutes, every time we left the house.
There were two types. Type 1: The very satisfied, who watched your eyes, looking for admiring looks to the buggy. Type 2: Who couldn’t appreciate the gift from God. They pulled their children even in public areas, shouting at them. “Do you want me to leave you here?!”, they would call to their two year old. They didn’t deserve them, still, they got them! I could not understand the Big Creator. I could just…not…understand.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Part 1 of my story with the title
BEFORE I GOT PREGNANT
HORMONES, HSG AND IUIS
is now available as a kindle edition on Amazon!
For free for subscribers!
I have a spelling problem on my book cover, how bad is this?!!!
I made a new version, I hope, it will be changed in the next 12 hours on Amazon...
When I realized my failure, I was really mad.
But you know what?
That's the point: You have failed, and you try it again... and again...
Monday, April 20, 2015
We made an appointment with the doctor for the hysterosalpingogram (HSG) test for Monday. I had to be at the appointment at 7.45 in the morning.
I have never been to a hospital before, so the whole thing was almost an exotic experience for me (at least for a while). I took my little bag with a jogging suit and slippers, a book for reading and an expensive German women’s magazine as a consolation gift for myself. I also had something to drink and a chocolate.
At the reception, I had to give data, the name of my doctor, and the name of the test. Then, they said, I should go to the second floor.
There again, I introduced myself to the nurse, who went with me to a private ward. Actually, I was not imagining such a luxurious room in a hospital in Hungary, where the rooms are mostly with 4 beds. I almost felt regret, that I would miss this real collective hospital experience. I seemed to be a VIP guest, because I was the private patient of Dr. Horváth. I even got the key to my room, so I could lock it, if I needed the powder room.
I closed the door behind myself, and I changed my clothes. I didn’t bring pyjamas, because I decided not to loose my dignity. So I had sweatpants with a comfortable flannel shirt.
After changing my clothes, I opened the door a crack. The people outside should not think, I would imagine, that I was in a hotel, where you could separate yourself from the others, if you wanted to. I lay down to my bed and started reading the Hungarian version of Bridget Jones diaries. I laughed a lot and by the way, I realized how good it was that I had a man, at least.
Until midday, nothing happened. To find some variety, I went to the little girls room, twice, and changed from the book to the women’s magazine.
At 12, they said to me, that I could come to have lunch. I had a weird feeling, when I went to the dining room: It was like a hotel with very low number of stars (or maybe none). It had ugly furniture and a toilet on the end of the corridor. But, what a nice surprise: they give you lunch for free! I got fork and spoon from the nurses, because I, the inexperienced hospital patient, didn’t know, that you should take it from home because there was silverware shortage due to pilferage. I wanted to mingle, so I sat down at a table with three women and began to paddle my soup.
The age of the women was between 50 and 70, all of them had housecoats in bright colors and night clothes with little flowers. And obviously, all of them were sick. I was ashamed of myself, because I was just one of them, at age of 28, and I was ashamed of myself also, because I felt at the same time, that nothing was wrong with my body, I just a slack about, while they had God-knows- what horrible diseases.
I almost began with the second dish, when I heard my name. The physician in attendance arrived, who had the job of checking every new patient on the floor.
I went into the examination room. I saw five or six doctors and scrubs at the table, only men. They broke their chatting and eating, and stared at me. I was the only young female patient.
The nurse lead me to the examination table and after catching my eyes, she drew the curtain in, and separated me in this way from the mass of the white coated young men. I got off my pants and my panties, and laid down spreading my legs, just like nothing would be more natural for me, than doing this in the presence of 6 young men.
The physician in attendance examined me manually and went away. He asked me, why I was hospitalized. He had good bedside manner. Although he didn’t tell me, what exactly he was doing to me and why he did it.
At half past two in the afternoon, when I was very bored in my single room, my doctor showed up. Earlier on the day, he had appeared on the scene, but then he acted like he didn’t see me and didn’t know that he was the one who had hospitalized me.
“Unfortunately, we can’t do the HSG today, the radiology closed at 2 pm.” He said, and added: “We will postpone it until tomorrow.” I saw that he seriously meant, that I would spend the night in the hospital. I asked him, polite and scared, if this would be really necessary. He was in a good-natured forgiving mood, and said, that I could go home now, but only on the QT. I should talk to the nurse. I should leave some of my clothes there in the room, so they wouldn’t give the room to another patient. I should be back tomorrow morning, before 7.45, before morning rounds.
Very quickly, before he could change his mind, I sent a phone message to Ádám, to come for me. I changed my clothes and we hurried home.
I was very disappointed, of course, because I wasn’t through with it. I phoned my German group, and said, I couldn’t come to our lesson. I’m not a very good liar, so I didn’t give a reason.
The next morning, we woke up very early, so I could sneak back in my hospital bed. The doctors came around 8.30. I had been never a part of hospital rounds before, I had never been a patient. I knew the situation only from medical television shows.
This is how it happened: Suddenly, I heard two knocks on the door of my room, and the nurse came in, behind her a middle aged, tired-faced doctor, and a lot of young guys in white coats. They were so many, that they could not really come in to the little room, just peer in from the door.
I tried not to show, how it felt for me, a feeling that should be well known for monkeys in the zoo. I sat up comfortably, in with my legs crossed. Usually, I don’t see my guests lying in bed.
“You will have a HSG?” The doctor asked shortly, looking to his papers.
“Yes, Dr. Horváth will do it.” I said, to avoid misunderstandings. Not, that this apathetic stranger could touch me!
“Were you informed about the test?”
I didn’t know what to say. The truth was, that I had no clue about this test. My doctor didn’t tell me many things, because I didn’t ask him. I didn’t want to suggest to his colleague that he was a bad doctor. But I didn’t want for them to think that I knew everything, and maybe would expect from me something, that I had never heard before.
“Ehh… what should I say?” I thought out loud.
“Yes or no?!’ The strange doctor said shortly, huddled his papers up and stormed out of the room as quickly as lightning, with all his hangers-on. Only the nurse caught my eyes.
They closed the door behind themselves. I was alone. I cried. That was the day number 2, that I spent totally exposed in the hospital. How I felt depended on the goodwill of uncountable strangers, what and how was happening to me was almost surreal. Kafkaesque.
Before 12, my doctor charge into my room and asked me “How are you?”, and I said, fine. It was lunch time: when the nurse saw, that the doctor had personally come to consult with me, she insisted on taking my lunch to my room. Dr. Horváth said, he would come back in a half hour, and disappeared.
He did come back, but not in a half an hour, but that’s only a minor detail. And I had to confess: when you are hospitalized, you have a lot of time.
We went to the examination room, because he wanted to put the catheter in. The type, that is used by little babies, you know. He was displeasured, because I had no night-dress, but in was pants.
“You can’t hold the outlet barrel, while we go to the radiology.” He explained, but then, he had an idea: “No problem, I will fix it with an adhesive tape to your leg!”
I survived the procedure like a hero, but my face could be a little bit wry, so he asked: “Are you all right, Anett, or are you having convulsions?”
“No, I’m okay.” I assured him. I tried to be a good patient, just like I tried to be a good girl, a good teacher and a good wife. I didn’t want to upset anybody.
We took the corridor to the elevator. The radiology was 2 floors lower, than the examination room, of course.
I had never walked with Dr. Horváth together before. I hadn’t realized earlier, that he was a little bit shorter than me.
He pushed the call button of the elevator, and tried to chat, but I caught him up in the speech letting him know, that I was afraid and I would faint. I sat on a bench and made my world good. When I came around, the head nurse washed my forehead with a wet cloth. The doctor stood a little farther on, wringing his hands. He looked so helpless.
“Why did you get so scared?” The nurse asked me. “Because of the test or because of the possible result?”
“Because of the test.” I made the confession. I was no hero. Honestly, I think, I didn’t collapse because of the fear to the test. It was enough for me, the knowledge, that a catheter was hanging out from me, that was fixed to my leg, and I was marching to the elevator among unknown people. Just like an android, having some parts of me from metal, chatting to this stranger, who wore white clothes.
They got a wheelchair and a male-nurse, so finally, I reached the radiology.
There was not a soul, except for a young doctor, who received me unbelievably kindly. He introduced himself (he was the first one with a white coat, who did this to me!), and asked me about how I felt.
“I’m super” I said, and smiled ashamed.
I had to stand to a wall, to that I got tied to. The whole contraption was moved, until we (the wall and me) were lying down. Then, they injected some dye through the little pipe into my uterus, so they could see on the monitor, that both of my oviducts are permeable.
That was not really surprising to me, because I never had this feeling, that something would be wrong with my female genital organs, and that would be the problem of getting pregnant. I took the medicines only for the sake of the doctor. So I felt now not really great joy, only a little relief.
I wanted to, but they didn’t let me walk back, I was taken with the wheelchair, as far as my room. I said goodbye to the male-nurse but I didn’t give him money, although he did a good job.
I crouched back to my bed in my single room, pretended to be brave and read my book. My doctor came in and I gave him the money.
In our country, you have the medical system free, if you have insurance. But because everybody has insurance, and the doctors’ payment is low, you think, it is better, to give them extra money in envelopes. So you think, you will get some extra attention. In this way, I could hope for extra attention and told my doctor, that I fainted before, because the other physician in attendance had treated me so badly. My doctor said, if I didn't have a fever, I could go home at 5 pm, at my own risk.
The waiting was even worse, than in the morning hours. At 16.45, everything was in my bag. A nurse showed up with a thermometer. I held it for two minutes in my armpits, and it went to 37 Celsius. I decided, not to measure it for the full 10 minutes, as it was ordered. I didn’t want to give it the chance, to go higher. I felt my head very hot, but I signed the papers, and ran to Ádám, who was waiting for me in the car.
I did something, that I never would think about myself. I always thought it would be the sign of a lack of self-discipline: when other people don’t follow medical orders 100 %.
I had a vision that something would go wrong, and I would have the shame, to be taken with an ambulance back to the hospital, from which I had escaped. But nothing went wrong, luckily.
I could go to sleep and dream (in my own bed) with the knowledge, that it was proved: there is no physical problem with me. That I couldn't get pregnant yet could be only a misunderstanding.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
After 7 years I stopped to take my pill. It was strange. I did not have to concentrate not to forget to take it, and not to get pregnant accidentally destroy my future with an accidental baby. I got a new challenge: the thermometer.
The point of the thermometer is, to take the temperature of my body every morning, before getting out of bed and to record it religiously. From the changes of the body temperature, subsequently, you can determine the time of ovulation and you can draw the inference to the most opportune term of the next cycle.
I decided to not carry too far, and not to take the temperature in the rectum as the books suggest it. I keep at the armpit. It was also in this way very nasty every morning half asleep to wait 10 minutes, that our old thermometer needed to make his job while I was looking forward to have finally the right to go to pee. I did what the doctor asked for two months long.
After the phlebotomy there were four different things analysed, and we got the results of three of them in the next two weeks. I`d had the rubeola before, my body was preparing antibodies against the illness, what is strewed by cats and the “I-don’t know-average” is normal, just like expected.
I took up the thermometer method every morning. I wanted to know my ovulation times. But at this time, we continued using condoms. That was not the best way to brighten up our sex life, but we knew, we had to wait only until the beginning of December – that wasn’t a high price for a healthy baby.
I found a book with the title “The Infertility Diet: Get Pregnant and Prevent Miscarriage”. I bought it, not if I would need it, only as an interested person. That was an American book, full of horror stories about sterile women and of non-usable food recipes with manioc and other fruits of American Indians, that you can’t buy in Hungary in Central Europe. They said in the book, green peas can make you sterile. Bullshit – I thought to myself, everybody eats green peas, and babies born every day!
I realised, that the thermometer method is bullshit too. At least for me, because the temperatures were just dancing on my chart, and I could not see any tops our downs before or after my ovulation on my planner. On the other hand, it was really awkward to wait every morning after waking up, until the thermometer does its job. I could not move, I could not go to the toilet. I spoke to the doctor, and he declared, that this method is quite old and outdated, so I could quit the measurement with his consent.
Monday, April 6, 2015
I went to visit my gynecologist. I brought Ádám with me, after I had convincing him I swale the pill, then, immediately, not waiting until the wedding day.
“Nobody gets pregnant right away” I told to him, even though, of course I was sure, that I would be pregnant right away. Nobody love children more, than I did, who should get pregnant faster than me?!
“We would like to have a baby” I said to the doctor and felt my eyes, after he had asked us to sit down in his office. I felt myself give a very adult, serious statement.
“How long have you been trying?” the doctor asked.
“Well, uuh I took the last pill yesterday” I admitted and I blushed. He obviously thinks, that I am overdoing it. But I just wanted to do it right. I took, what the tv doctors said about the folic acid seriously, that you have to take it before you are already pregnant and about all the important medical examinations and protective measures. They could very likely prevent a lot of terrible things. Like always, I wanted to be a brave girl and complete my task.
The doctor warned us – what I already knew from the books – that after left the pill, it would be well advised to prevent with an another method, for example with condoms, because to get pregnant in this period could be dangerous. He also explained the main points of the `thermometer method`.
Of course, I could not allow so few words about it and asked a lot of silly questions about the risks and pregnancy vitamins. I asked how it was with cats or rubeola?Ádám played his part too, and asked some questions, all of them could be answered though by me, from my medical books.
I got the papers for blood and water tests and the doctor shook our hands and said `Best wishes` to us.
And life went on. Anikó, a girl, who had been with me in a German language course 7 years earlier, phoned me. She was 18 and I was 19 then. At this time, I had heard from my friend Zsuzsa, that you could learn a language with the help of the jobless center for free. I never meet Anikó again, except once, when we had run into each other on the tram. Later, when I wanted to make a dressmaker business, and I had sent a few letter to my acquaintances, I sent one for her. She was a corpulent girl, who would have had some problems to find new suits for herself in the stores.
At the end of this summer, she phoned me, and asked me to make her wedding dress. I said yes and wanted to get nothing just an invitation to her wedding. I wanted to be a nice friend.
In the next two month, I invested a lot of time, that Anikó would be a beautiful bride. I even went to help by buying the gloves in a special store, in the middle of nowhere.The wedding was at the beginning of September, and Anikó was prettier than ever. I was proud of myself.
Monday, March 30, 2015
One month after my 27th birthday, at the end of March, was the day our wedding date settled. It was clear sailing for the baby!
Or it would have been… I started to make my `to do` list. I wanted to have a perfect situation for my child, just like I learned from the television doctors.
I went to the hospital and let checked my heart. As a child, I was seen by a doctor every year, because they diagnosed something with my heart, but I did not show up at the hospital until I was 18. I went to the cardiologist – and they could not find anything. I had outgrown it! So, they said I wouldn’t have a heart attack during the birth.
I went to my dentist as well and let him to make a bridge. Although he wanted to do it earlier, I always postponed it. But now, the time was ready for it: I knew, that the teeth of a pregnant woman can go wonky. And I didn’t want to risk to have analgesic injections when my baby is in my belly.
I really thought to myself: I am an adult person, but in fact, I was only a child. I was so floating above the earth because of my looking forward, because of everything, what the next year would bring me, that I could not hold in what we are going to do. I told my dentist, a young man, why I came to him. In the next years, when I was expecting the stork without avail, I did not dare, to visit my dentist. Earlier, I was the perfect patient, who plays brave to the doctors. But now, I did not want him to see me as a naïve child.
But I couldn`t see the future in that August. When we went to the Sziget Festival, I felt really nostalgic and told to myself:” That’s the last time that I am here as a young woman without kids.” Rock concerts, alcohol, dust, booze – this all will be next year a part of my past, and I wouldn’t miss it!
Monday, March 23, 2015
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
When I was a teenager, I really hated kids. My mother had worked as a kindergarten teacher, and usually, when I visited her at her workplace, I immediately got a headache because of the noise there and the toddling of toddlers. I realized, that something always needed wiping one end or the other – and I found it all disgusting!
I changed my mind, when I was 19 years old, and I saw an advertisement in the newspaper. A school was looking for an assistant. I got the job and my task was mainly to do photocopies for the teachers and sometimes, when nobody else could go, I was allowed to be a substitute teacher. The school-children loved me, because my class for them usually meant me telling stories or playing games together. I just fell in love with them.
Me and Ádám were a couple at this time, we had everything else but didn't have children on our minds. First of all, we wanted to grow up, to earn our degrees, to move to a flat with only the two of us…
Time went by, and one day I just realized, we already had all of these things.
Years seemed to fly by. I finished the teachers training college and began to work as a teacher. We had a flat and I thought to myself, we don’t have a reason for waiting longer.
And then, Ádám turned out to think in another way about child rearing and marriage. I told to myself, to give him a year, and I went to a course to learn sewing. Alright, maybe I would be never a dressmaker, but I would be able to sew nice clothes for myself and for my children. Later, I even had enough time to learn a little bit of fashion design. I began to realize, the life of designers is not as perfect as in a muesli advertisement. So I don’t regret, that I didn’t have the courage, to apply for admission to the art school after finishing the high school. I really tried to see the positive side of things. I still didn’t know, that I would still have plenty of time waiting for the stork, to do a course for film text translation and to learn English, and to work as a film translator and to start studying at a University and to write a novel…
I didn’t have a clue. I was just a snow-white lamb. I was undismayed at this time. Little did I know, a wife has only two ways: either she is an uncomplaining fairy or she is self-assertive, overbearing witch who stamps her husband`s will.
I just waited quietly, until Ádám decided, the time had come. It was not too late, after all. When I would give birth to our first child, I could have two others, even with a difference of 2 and a half years.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
I had this great idea: I should meet some of the book resellers in Budapest and check,
if they liked my story.
if they liked my story.
I wanted to ask them: What was their story?
Book Seller Nr2, who got twins with IVF
Book Seller Nr2, who got twins with IVF
I know from the email address, that contains a number, that looked like a birthday year, that she was 33 years old. I checked her profile, and saw, that she was not only sell my book, she had a lot of baby girl clothes to offer.
So, that time, I should meet a young woman, who maybe read my book, before she got pregnant, I hope so.
We have an appointment at daytime, for 1 pm. She wrote me, she would come with her twins. "Bingo", I said to myself.
I was few minutes early there too and checked all the young mothers with baby buggies. I don't see any twin buggy.
Finally, a young woman came up, without babies, but with my book in her hand.
She had long dark hair and a nice coat.
"The twins went sleep", she told to me. While searching for money in my purse, I want to ask her the question: "Did you have had an infertility problem, is that why you read this book?"
But she was faster than me, and asked me: "Do you want to do IVF?"
I'm surprised from the question.
"Ehmm, yes, we have something to do with that?," I say. And then: "Did this book help you?"
"Ehmm, yes, sort of. It was good to know, that I was not the only one with this thoughts. There was somebody, who recommended this book to me. And I recommended it to some other people, later. Because you have so few people to talk to about it. Which clinic are you at?"
That's the point, where I have to make to confession:
"That's my story. That's me here, in the photo."
Now, she was surprised.
We chatted about a half hour about our memories from our time as a woman with infertility problems. She had already had a son, when she wanted to get pregnant again, and she couldn't. But the first IVF gave them twins, They are 2 years old now.
"It was so hard! So many people, that have this problem, don't talk about it."
"Is this amount good?" I asked her as I offered.
"Yes, it is." She said. I asked her, if I could write about her story on my blog and gave her my blog address. She seemed to be interested. Her twins are 2 years old, but she didn't forget her years before. She says, she cried for happiness on the first birthday of her twins. She still had this feeling of having been part of a miracle.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
I had this great idea: I should meet some of the book resellers in Budapest and check,
if they liked my story.
if they liked my story.
I wanted to ask them: What was their story?
Book Seller Nr1, who didn't read my story
I arrived too early at the meeting point. I took a little walk, looking at every young woman: "Maybe she is my book seller?" It was rainy and I had to take my umbrella, so they couldn't see my pink cap. I wrote in the email, that I would wear a pink cap.
I went back to the meeting point. I stood in the door of a big house, so I would not get wet. A man came near, I wondered, if the woman would send her husband instead of herself. I wouldn't be happy about that case: I needed her to hear her story.
Did my book help her? Did she like my book?
The man walked towards me . I was waiting. Some minutes later, a woman opened the house's door from the inside.
It's a 50 something woman.
"Are you waiting for a book?" She asks me.
"Yes, I am." I say. I'm surprised. I was waiting for a younger woman.
She is in her 50's, although in good shape with a pretty, unlined skin.
"It's really so cheap?" I asked her.
"Yes, like you read in the advertisement."
I give her the money. She tells me, that she was afraid, to come to late, because of the traffic on this rainy day Friday afternoon. She takes my book from a plastic bag. I don't take it, just look at it.
"I'm sure, there will be no pages missing." I explain.
"If it's so cheap, its worth it!" I say. "Have you read the book?" That was the question, that I was supposed to ask her.
"No." She tells me. "I started, but I couldn't do it. It's too hard, you know, this story for somebody, who doesn't have this problem in her life."
"Yeah, it's true." I said smiling. She watched to me, as she would be surprised by my laugh.
I give her the money, take my book and say "Good bye". She disappeared through the door.
So, the first meeting was not really as I expected. I couldn't ask the woman about her infertility experience. I could'nt tell you her success story. She thought from the Hungarian title that it would be a happy pregnancy story.When she realized it wasn’t she didn’t read it.
I could maybe feel angry or disappointment, because this woman only began to read my book, but she didn't really read it.
But you know, I don't judge her. Who knows? Would I like to read a story about infertility, full of pain and desperation, if I didn't have this problem? Would I be interested if I didn't have a friend, or a sister, who had this situation? If I didn't have to know this experience, maybe I wouldn't want to know about it.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
|I Have A Plan, or: Reading Women In Paris|
Now, a few years later, I decided to re-edit it in English with the title
„Before I Got Pregnant”
for the rest of the world.
for the rest of the world.
I had my doubts: Is the rest of the world interested in my story?
I googled the Hungarian title and found a few of my used books to sell. I had this great idea: I should meet some of the book resellers in Budapest and check, if they liked my story.
I wanted to ask them: What was their story?I will share with you some of these meetings with my readers here on the blog.