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Zero Guarantees
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Zero Guarantees
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Zero Guarantees

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Imagine stepping into the shoes of someone who is diagnosed with infertility and is unable to start a family. Imagine how this situation captures your whole life: your friendships, your emotions, your bank account and your marriage. It makes you feel exposed. It diminishes the way you think about yourself and finds you peeing on sticks all the time with a forced and sad smile plastered on your face after hearing of yet another pregnancy announcement. You get caught up in the world of doctors, needles, specialists, tests, medication, bloodwork, time, constant uncertainty, pain and waiting. You will dread the question, “So when are you having a baby?”
Welcome to a world of whirlwind emotions: emotions of hope, denial, grief, bargaining, anger, depression, sadness and acceptance.
...and against all odds....against all logic...you still have hope!

“The women who I love and admire for their strength and grace did not get that way because shit worked out. They got that way cause shit went wrong, and they handled it. They handle it in a thousand different ways on a thousand different days – but they handle it. Those women are super heroes.”
Elizabeth Gilbert

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 21, 2017
ISBN9781370877553
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    Zero Guarantees - Christelle Oosthuizen

    Acknowledgments

    Thank you…

    Jan - You are amazing, you were nonstop at my side from the beginning to the end. Thanks for constantly listening when I was continuously ranting over my feelings. Together we laugh, cry and hope. I love you lots.

    Lida - No words can describe the admiration I have for you! You’re the best in the world. I am honoured to be your sister.

    Adri - You lent us your wife and ended up with me in your house for months.

    My parents - First it was me on the journey, then both of your daughters. I know you have a lot of grey hair after all the worries. You have supported us all the way.

    Prof Igno Siebert - I so many times wanted you to tell me it’s the end, but you just never gave up on me. You were a pure inspiration.

    Prof Kruger - You always let me feel like a lady. I’m grateful for all your advice.

    Dr van der Merwe - You stroked my hair the last time we went to theatre, thank goodness our auras synced and we got lucky on this remarkable journey.

    Sisters Tersia, Annelize and Sanet - In the beginning I was so scared of you but you ended up being friends. Your support was so valuable.

    Jaenre and Hermie - You stepped in and were geared for a new challenge to get us to court.

    Dr Vellema - Sorry for all the emergency dramas I caused you. I cried so many times at your rooms, after losing babies. You always let me feel special.

    Meggan - You were brave to offer to read through my script, thanks for helping me with the first editing… sorry for my spelling.

    Corne - You were always a phone call away when emergency hit us. Thanks for looking after Jan and the kids.

    All my friends - somehow you all knew when I was going through bad times and treatments. I know I was not an easy friend with all the bad luck. You all got tested for nonstop praying for me. Thanks for being my friend!

    Cyber friends - most I never met in real life. But you became best friends, with support, advice or just to comfort.

    Introduction

    Before I even knew it, I had been caught up in an infertility mindset…a way of thinking that is like an addiction to hope—a mindset I hate so much. It stole some of my best years. Infertility has changed the whole of me…all my thoughts and the way I live life today. You recover eventually but its impact can never be wiped out. It changes everything! You can control some of the stuff in your life. Other stuff, you just need to accept.

    Infertility robs you of hope for your future; it takes control of you and puts your life on hold. It takes away the stability in your marriage, your family and your friendships. It stops you from being able to experience planning a pregnancy and a birth. Spiritually, it tests you till the end.

    The thought that it is possible to create babies with sex still startles me. But if you have been cursed with infertility having babies is an indefinite uncertainty of treatments, DNA mixing dishes, needles, and men in white coats. This way of baby-making is hugely stressful. You are tested, probed, and injected. You feel alienated, worried, and alone. You ask many questions, feel broken, and do research all the time. You become a Google maniac.

    That’s why, through all these years, writing became my way of embracing my feelings. It was a way for me to get everything out of my system. If I could write it then I could say it, I could scream it, and I could release it. Writing helped me cope. Journaling was my saving grace at the end! It was therapeutic for me to reflect on my thoughts. It helped me detoxify my system of infected thoughts and come to terms with the things that happened to me.

    Never give up on a dream just because of the time it will take to accomplish it.

    Long, Long Ago

    When Fairytales Were Still a Hit

    We had been married for a year.

    We were incredibly happy.

    Life could not have been any better!

    And what was the next step? Having babies! That’s what married couples were expected to do—or so I thought. Both of us just loved babies. I think I had actually been addicted to them since the age of 10. The thing we fought about most was how many babies to have. Jan wanted 4 and I wanted 5.

    We were ‘ever ready’ for this next stage—a happy family life. We had experienced babies all over the place, and we loved them. We were doing so many fun and exciting things and we were a super cool family – that was my dream.

    Who could ever have predicted the utter nightmare that was about to hit us? It was like a never ending merry-go-round of sorrow, tears, and oceans of heartache. We flushed thousands of rands down the toilet for no guarantees, and bad luck got a free ride on our backs.

    I never thought I would stop being able to feel. I became numb and speechless. Your brain can help you to survive by cutting out. My brain simply seized...but getting up and trying again and again was even worse. How many times can you get up before you go crazy?

    I don’t know how many times you should get up, and I don’t know how many times you need to be knocked over. This totally ridiculous scenario became my reality, but you don’t even stand a chance if you’re not trying...you cannot catch a fish if your hook is not in the ocean.

    Hope is to believe, when it would have been easier to doubt

    We had struggled for a few months. It wasn’t that bad… after all, everyone struggles with something. We blame things on the universe, global warming, stress, work, too much or too little exercise, diet, weight and age. We can blame anything for our problems. I didn’t fall pregnant within the first few months, but I hoped to soon. I was very positive (looking back, I think I was just plain stupid). I wish I had known that positive thinking would almost kill me. I don’t like moaning...after all everybody has their own problems and nobody cares about yours. You’re just another moaning bitch in their eyes.

    I was still young at 27, so I should have tried to conceive for a year before seeking professional help but I am not good at the waiting game at all! I didn’t wait a year. After a few months I made an appointment with a gynaecologist.

    A little secret: I am terrified of doctors and I have such a bad needle phobia that I pass out even if someone just talks about needles! It’s embarrassing and it has happened countless times. When I had my knee operation they wheeled me in before the children so that they could get it over and done with. The anaesthetist gave me gas, but I was already passing out from stress. No Needles, please. I am a sissy! When I go to the dentist, he drills without anaesthesia. But I needed babies…I would have endured anything for my dream!

    4 March 2001

    The doctor (I did not like her) booked me for a laparoscopy—a surgical procedure in which a laparoscope is inserted into the pelvic area through a small incision in your stomach. I am terrified of the anaesthetist’s needles. But I can do this for a baby.

    Results: my tubes are open, my uterus is in the right place, and my blood tests show that I am ovulating. Yippee for now, nothing to be concerned about. I have been diagnosed with endometrioses, a condition marked by uncontrolled tissue growth in the uterus and other organs. This explains the very heavy periods I have had since school. I thought they were normal…anyway who inspects a friend’s tampons and pads to see what a normal flow is supposed to be?

    But it’s nothing serious. There is help for people like me and I want it. I have always believed in taking one’s problems to the best people in the field rather than wasting time with people who aren’t ‘on-the-ball’.

    I don’t like this doctor at all but she has referred me to someone. I’ve also searched for the best fertility doctors in the country and made an appointment. I like having more than one opinion.

    It looks like a lot of couples struggle to conceive because I can’t get an appointment immediately. I have to wait three months! Freaking duck! We really don’t have time to waste. If I’d known I would have to play the waiting game I would have packed my bags and run like Forest Gump.

    21 May 2001

    I met the FS (fertility specialist). We like Dr Admirable, he is super nice and just such a sweetie. Jan had to give a sperm sample because sometimes there are problems with the sperm and then you do treatment after treatment on the woman while the actual problem lies with the husband. Jan’s sperm is perfect; I always knew he was a stud. Endometriosis they can help me with—you can get pregnant with it, with some help. I am okay and so is Jan. Ready steady go!

    The doctor gave us some statistics. We don’t really have a big problem. He told us that in ten percent of couples struggling to conceive there is nothing wrong…conception just doesn’t happen. They call it unexplained infertility. He gave us this information on paper and drew a circle around the ten per cent. While walking through the hospital’s passage I threw the piece of paper away in the first dustbin I saw. I refuse to be the ten percent!

    The doctor said we should start off with a moderate home plan program. We are going to use Clomid (a fertility drug). When he told us that fertility drugs increase the likelihood of multiples my ears perked up—the more the better. After 6 months, if this hasn’t worked, we should move on to a GIFT. I don’t really think we will get to that stage—that’s for people with serious problems, not us studs!

    I wish I had known what a rocky journey my life was about to become. Looking back I still can’t believe I was the key player. The journey hijacked my life for so many years.

    I didn’t give a damn about how the fertility drugs would affect me. On day 12, I had to go and have blood drawn to see whether or not I was ovulating. That meant someone had to put a needle into me. I didn’t have a clue how to get through this. After investigating to find out who the best person would be to handle my needle phobia, I came across a sister who ended up being my ‘needle-angel’. I sat down, told her my story, and let her in on how shit-scared I was. When I think back to this it all seems ridiculous. I lay down on the bed (so that I wouldn’t pass-out) and turned my head to the wall and she put a chord around my arm and told me to make a fist. Then she slowly started telling me that she was going to put the needle in. I started overheating. Sweat started dripping down my body and onto the bed. I know it sounds more like a mission to turn me into an alien, but it worked, and then the best was when she said, Finished!

    A little secret: deep inside, I felt great to have survived my needle ordeal, because I thought I would only need to do it once and then I would be pregnant. That wasn’t how it worked out.

    Drinking pills, drawing blood to see if I was ovulating, having sex, and waiting to see if we had pulled it off became my monthly routine.

    Month one was a no.

    Month two was still a no.

    Month three—also a no.

    Month four no, and freaking hell I need a yes already please!

    Month five was a bloody no again!

    I was down in the dumps. I had been told there was nothing wrong with me so why wasn’t anything happening? Still hoping for a miracle, I ordered my medication for the GIFT. It arrived in the post and as I started unpacking it on my bed I started feeling like a medical rat! There were lots of pills along with some bottles of clear hormonal water and loads of injections, all of which had to go into poor me! How the heck was I going to get through all of this?

    11 November 2001

    I am waiting for unsuccessful month number six. Bring it on! I want to start with the GIFT. These pills are not doing it for this ten percent girly with unexplained infertility. I wait for my period, but nothing happens. Can this be? No I don’t think so, but maybe? I do a home test and two lines emerge! I am pregnant! Can one girl be so happy? I am bouncing off the walls! My prayers have been answered, thanks. I jump in my car and drive to my needle-angel. She is ecstatic for me! We are so happy! She draws blood. I don’t care about my phobia, because I am pregnant! She puts an URGENT sticker on the pregnant-blood-sample and I drive it directly to the lab myself! Within two hours the doctor phones and I jump into my car. I am so excited I can’t even sit still in the doctor’s office.

    Congrats! You are pregnant!

    The best words ever! He gives me the results on paper. My beta count is 177...not too low.

    I cannot wait for Jan to get his arse home! I scream, We are pregnant! before he even enters the house! He is out of his mind with excitement. We are the happiest couple on earth. We decide not to tell anyone till after 12 weeks. I have read that one in five pregnancies ends with a miscarriage. I send the GIFT medication back—what a relief! This pregnancy has saved me money and grief. I was so scared of this GIFT thing! Yes and optimistic-me even put a thank you note in as well. I am so glad I don’t have to go to the clinic any more.

    18 November 2002

    Exactly a week after receiving the best news ever, I went to the loo and saw blood! I hoped that the bleeding would stop so I didn’t wake Jan, but I stayed awake that whole night, going to the loo every half-hour and praying. When Jan woke up, I told him. I wanted to crack. At 8 o’clock that morning, I ran into the doctor’s office. When my needle angel saw me her first words were, If you had to come here it’s not good news. I burst out crying! We took blood again, and I went to see the doctor.

    Sorry you’ve had a miscarriage at 6 weeks.

    One out of five pregnancies ends in a miscarriage. Those were the statistics. I didn’t know then, that I would defy those statistics! I am not average.

    I came to hate the words, Sorry, it’s just bad luck, with a passion!

    Just to make 100% sure the doctor sent me for a scan at the hospital. Sitting in the waiting room, I just wanted to cry. I was just so emotional and in so much shock. I so badly wanted to be pregnant.

    The doctor who did the sonar had zero personality, zero facial expression, and zero bedside manner. He was a plain rude fart. He scanned my belly and said, It doesn’t even look as though you were pregnant at all

    ‘Shut up you!’ I thought, ‘I was pregnant!’

    How do you put a doctor with no bedside manner at a sonar machine! I jumped off the bed and walked out. I didn’t even look at him as I left. He made me feel like I had made up this whole pregnancy story. All I had wanted was sympathy and care. My dream had just been crushed.

    I was flat on the floor! I had already sent my GIFT-meds back. I called the doctor and told him what had happened. He was strangely smug.

    Although it’s sad, it’s good news, he said, now we know you can get pregnant on your own!

    The fairy tale had ended in a tragedy... Cinderella had lost her shoe on the staircase of luck...

    Sometimes I wonder if she even had shoes on when she entered the party.

    The Supposedly Happy Beginnings

    March 2003

    With my tail between my

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