Yesterday I went to see the homeopath. I’ve had this funny itchy skin on my shoulder blade, and last time that happened I was diagnosed with shingles. So I thought that since I’m working on the miracle conception (the one where I prove all the doctors wrong and I don’t actually need IVF or any form of ART whatsoever), I had better go and get it checked out. By my trusty homeopath. I’m such a hippy that I don’t even have a GP, I haven’t been to one for about 8 years. Even my file at the homeopath had been put into cold storage! And so as I described my symptoms to him, he said – that’s interesting, the remedy that comes up most strongly for you, is also recommended for grief (he know’s about my Dad).
And then we started chatting about the fertility journey – he told me he was amazed at how many people are struggling at the moment. Given my age (36), he would normally recommend to give IVF a try sooner rather than later. But under the circumstances, he said that I might need to consider working through my grief first.
I’ve had different opinions from different people – the FS says that stress does not play a part. But the homeopath made a valid point, he said that if stress can cause impotence in men, why wouldn’t it cause infertility? My belief system lies somewhere between the two. I think that just because scientific research hasn’t proven that stress plays a part, doesn’t mean that is true. But I think it’s also dangerous to assume that fertility challenged women are a bunch of stress cadets.
There isn’t one of us who hasn’t heard from someone that we really need to just “chill out” and it will happen. And then smiled sweetly and gently tried to explain that no amount of relaxing is going to make our eggs younger/clear our blocked tubes/magically make the endometriosis disappear. And then cursed under our breaths with the ugliest words we can muster.
But something about what the homeopath said, made sense. If it’s true that grief creates an environment that is not hospitable to conception, then IVF might also fail for the same reason. It’s true that I have adhesions, a very physical thing. But the extent of those adhesions isn’t known, and who knows if that is actually the problem or not?
And then how much grief am I still in? I certainly don’t feel like I’m still grieving, I’ll always miss my Dad, I think of him 100 times a day, but maybe the real sadness hasn’t even started yet?
It certainly gave me some food for thought. I do want to be in the best possible space if I get lucky enough to conceive!