This morning, I switched on my phone to find a text message from my friend P: “It’s a girl!”

Such glorious news! I almost jumped for joy, except that I was at the bus-stop and my bus was approaching. Plus, the belly doesn’t allow me to do anything that’s gravity defying these days so I settled for tweeting instead.

P and I found each other on the Internetz shortly after we had announced the pregnancy. Throughout our pregnancies, we exchanged notes and, to the chagrin of our husbands, updates on sales for baby and maternity wear. We were both proponents of hypnobirthing and she was one of those who constantly gave me encouragement about gearing towards a natural, drug-free birth.

Earlier in the week, P was facing the prospect of having to opt for an epidural. I know, in the end, what should matter is that both mother and child are safe. But I also know how much she was looking forward to having that natural, drug-free birth and was hoping and praying that it would go the way she had envisioned. It did and that made the news even sweeter.

Congrats P and J on your little girl! She’s a lucky, lucky child.

**********

In December, I woke up with a strange dream. In it, friends of ours announced their pregnancy. I remember being genuinely happy that they were going to be parents, but also feeling slightly bitter that they were able to conceive just like that.

Later in the day, I related the dream to Mr Thick, telling him about the “pregnancy” but stopping short of mentioning my feelings. He proved that he may be thick in girth but not thick in the brains when he asked, “And…?” The man was perceptive enough to know that there was more to the story than I was letting on. Sheepishly, I told him about how I felt in the dream. He didn’t say a word but simply smiled and gave me a hug.

It just goes to show that even though I am on “the other side” now, I can never relinquish my identity as someone from that side. Yes, I feel truly embarrassed by that green-eyed monster that rears its ugly head whenever I hear of people who just bloody breathe and get knocked up and I try my best to beat it down.

Clearly, I have to learn to be a more gracious person.

Me and husband, we are pretty bad at timekeeping.

When I used to work at the Agency, we’d both set the alarm for 7am and only roll out of bed at 730am. Okay, I would roll out of bed at 730 while he gets up a whole 15 minutes ahead of me.

Well, somebody’s got to prepare breakfast, right?

Somehow, we are just absolutely terrible at being punctual and it’s of no surprise that on Saturday, we found ourselves running late for our hospital tour (for the delivery of the tiny human). Now, it wasn’t my fault but his – he had to run an errand with his mother and she came by to pick him up 30 minutes late. This was how we found ourselves arriving at the hospital 15 minutes late for the tour.

Not that we missed much, really. The administrator showing the group of us around was shrill and ineffectual, holding up pictures of the different types of wards in a clear folder and shrieking, “Can you see? Can you see?”

No ma’am, I cannot see and I certainly didn’t come all the way to the hospital to look at pictures through a clear plastic sheet.

And when explaining the differences between a family suite and a single deluxe room, she said, “Oh everything is the same except that a suite has a living room for your visitors. If you want to pay $1,000 extra for your guests to be in the living room, then the suite is for you.”

Mmmkay.

Thankfully though, as the tour came to an end, we asked the administrator if she could show us around the Delivery suite since we had missed out on that. She looked startled and replied vehemently with a series of wild waving at the rest of the group, “I can’t! I can’t! I have to…”

By this time, Mr Thick was getting impatient with her. He asked her bluntly if we could check out the Delivery area on our own and she squeaked out a yes. With an epic roll of our eyes, we left her and the group and went off by ourselves.

The delivery ward was silent and there was nary a person when we made our way in, feeling like intruders. I rang the bell at the counter and miraculously, a nurse appeared less than 10 seconds later. And she was lovely! She showed us the different delivery rooms, answered our questions and even offered to get the nurse manager to speak to us.

Sister Ng was a gem. We asked her questions about hypnobirthing and she told us that all we had to do was to put down our wishes in the birth plan, and the nurses would follow them through, as long as it was endorsed by our doctor. She shared with us the different types of labour tools that they had, and even told us to fax in our birth plan to her for a quick look so that she can advise us on anything that might not be viable. She spent a good 10 minutes with us despite it being lunch hour and was generally kind, warm and friendly.

Now, we feel more assured about delivering in the hospital and knowing that our birth plan will be respected.

See, it does pay to be late!

Today, my friend lost her baby.
Today, a mama lost the child that she had been so eagerly looking forward to.
Today, a little life was snuffed out.
Today, someone who deserves something good in her life received nothing but bad news and heartbreak.

Her baby was in utero, and not even three months old. It doesn’t make it less of a loss. It doesn’t make her less of a mother.

We’ve all been on the infertility train, we know the rules of the game. Seeing our little embryo snugly nestled in our womb on the ultrasound doesn’t count. Hearing the heartbeat doesn’t make it make it any more certain. Miscarriages can happen anytime within the first trimester. Nothing is guaranteed until the baby is safe and alive in your arms. It’s the luck of the draw, someone once told me. Just as a perfect embryo doesn’t guarantee pregnancy, neither does hearing that WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH reverberate around the tiny room.

When we boarded the train, we figured we will take things as they come. We didn’t want to think too far. We worry about complications and bad news, and yet we never stop hoping for the best and praying that we will have a happy ending.

And then the train hits a brick wall that throws us and our hopes up into the air. We fall, leadenly, almost as if in slow-motion. And when we hit the ground, the pain is like nothing you can imagine. It breaks our heart into little pieces that are oh so difficult to put back together. We cry, despite knowing that crying isn’t going to change the fact that the end result hurts.

I don’t know if they will carry on fighting the good fight. I wish they would, because I know that they are strong, but it’s easier said than done. Infertility takes a lot out of your soul, it can change who you are. I know that, because deep down, it’s changed me profoundly.

I can’t take away their pain, I can’t bear their burden.
I only wish I could.

Dear girl, I know that nothing I say can make that sorrow go away. Your little bean was loved by us and so are you.

When I was going through the ART treatments – oh yes, the seven IUIs and one IVF! As if you could forget that – I was in desperate need of emotional support.

Throughout most of my IUI treatments, nobody knew about our journey except for a couple of close girlfriends and even then, I found that it was hard for them to truly understand what I was going through. Outside, I was cool and collected but inside I was a hot mess.

And even when I came out in the open during our IVF process, I felt that our friends still didn’t, couldn’t grasp the enormity of what we were going through. I don’t want to exaggerate but really, the emotional upheaval was sometimes too tiring and painful to bear. And that’s not forgetting the physical impact that the hormonal jabs have on your body.

(Sidenote: when Mr Thick’s friend asked him for advice regarding IVF, he told his friend to be aware of the side effects that the drugs could have on his wife. When I asked him why he said that, Mr Thick’s answer was that he never could have imagined just how much I had to go through and it hurt him greatly to see me like that. Love.)

This was when I decided to turn to the Internet. If I wasn’t going to find it here in the real world, then damnit, I was going to have one virtually. It really helps to just read someone else’s experience and to know that what you are going through is not confined to you and you alone.

One of the best sites that I found was Tertia Albertyn’s blog. If you are feeling sorry about yourself for having to go through IVF and all that “oh why me?” thoughts are haunting you, her story will straighten you out in a jiffy. She has three beautiful children today but she didn’t conceive her twins till nine IVFs and a few losses later. Amazing strength, wit and a seriously hilarious (oxymoron, much?) sense of humour. I spent many an afternoon going through her archives and shedding a few tears.

I loved her site so much, I decided to contribute to her retirement and bought her book “So Close“, which recently won the RESOLVE Hope Award 2011 for Best Book. Her book is the sort that I wished I had the talent and ability to pen. She chronicles her journey to conceiving her twins Adam and Kate, as well as the tragic losses in her life. I laughed and I cried and then I nodded my head and said, Yes that’s exactly it.

Closer to home, I realised that while there are plenty of Singaporeans who are undergoing fertility treatments, nobody was talking about it openly, for whatever reasons (and I completely respect that). Well, nobody except for Yi Lin and Dannie. Writing over at Maybe Baby, they have allowed everyone a glimpse into every step of their entire IVF journey. It was truly a godsend reading their blogs because it made me realise that we weren’t alone.

Now, Yi Lin is a friend (thanks to the wonders of the World Wide Web) and we have our own little support network on Whataspp. She and Dannie have been blessed with Coco, their feisty bunny girl who braved the embryo thawing process and hung on inside Camp Womb to grow into the cute tamagotchi with a healthy set of lungs. I like to think that they bring hope to many couples out there battling infertility.

And lastly, there’s Girlfriend X (as she would like to be known). She found me on the Internetz just when we were both gearing up for the IVF. It helped a great deal to have someone going through the process within the same time frame. She’s recently undergone her frozen embryo transfer so all our fingers are crossed for her!