Persephone: Parent

A fine site

Sharing the Journey

I’ve never secretive or embarrassed about how I got pregnant. I’ve never hidden my 3 years of trying to get pregnant, or that we used fertility treatment to finally get Elvis.

Obviously that’s the case – it’s the whole point of my original blog!

But it’s also true for the real world. I share links to this blog on my facebook and on my personal twitter. This has caused a few problems with people not seeing eye to eye with me regarding social media.
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My Birth Story

I probably have mentioned some of the ins and outs of my labour, I’m not sure quite how much, but there are a few things that I’m sure I haven’t put down in words.

Surprisingly there’s some facts surrounding my birth story that I actually spoke about to a real person about before putting it down electronically.

And I don’t mean all the gory details. Nope, I mean my crazy head and my son’s existence.
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Blogging the Bad Times

I knew I hadn’t blogged in a while, but I didn’t realise it was so long ago! 6th August.

So much has happened. And it’s all been good.

Until now and apparently I only blog when it’s all bad!

Apologies for not even realising that there were comments followers had been making or replying to. I haven’t even logged in until now.

And I’ve logged in to say that I am tired of all of this. I remember in all of my infertility blogs, I’d moan about all the pain of trying and constantly failing and that the elusive baby would make my life better, would make it all complete and all of that pain would go away, that a baby in my arms would be all the reward for those 3 years of pain.

Well it isn’t.

If I had the want, I could write a blog a day filled with pain, failure and heartache to rival my infertility blogs.

A small part of me yearns for those days because the pain was cyclical, I had days were I could ignore my infertility and failings. I can’t ignore all my failings now. They’re with me all the time.

Maybe rejoining the blogging world will help. Or it’ll give me more pain.

P x


Space Monster Moon Walking

From Daily Post: Green Eye Monster

Dearest Friends,

You all beat me.

You all won the race, leaving me behind in the salty dust.

You weren’t in a race. None of you strived forward.

You didn’t try and trip me. You didn’t think of me at all like that.

And for your harmless, innocent walk through life, what do you get from me?

You get a green eyed baby full of resentment and anger, brought into this world by such unconventional means.

You get a friend who watched as your lives innocently passed by as she was stuck moon walking her way through a nightmare.

Even now the monster within still resides for each and every one of you.

Your natural sleep, no rule breaking involved.

Your natural birth, no cutting off of corners involved.

Your natural conception, no cheating there.

My artificially made monster that needs to return from the alien environment once he stops being fed.

My eyes will forever be green. But time may calm my monster.

With loving friendship xoxo

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Happy Birthday Me! I Love You All.

I have been out and about all day – still hot, but lovely breeze – so can’t write a full on post, but I want to say a huge thank you to this fantastic online community.

Yesterday’s post scored new viewing highs for this blog, saw many new followers and became my highest commented post.

Truly, learning that this is not abnormal, the unspoken pains of newbie motherhood, the loneliness, the feeling trapped, that others have been there and that it isn’t just me, it means the world. It really does.

I’m not too good at talking, well I love talking – I rarely shut up – but I don’t like talking. I don’t trust my emotions, don’t trust myself not to cry. I don’t want my friends and family to think I’m weak, for them to feel sorry for me. Although I hide nothing from this blog and don’t hide it from my friends and family, I can ignore their sympathy online as it rarely occurs in person.

But to share my problems, my little/huge hiccups with this fantastic online community that is physically anonymous and to be told by survivors that I’m normal, that I can and will survive, it means the world. I love you all for helping me get through this.

I started this blog describing my journey of trying to conceive as like a war. First you’re in the trenches, praying and hoping to make it out. Then, the lucky ones make it onto no-man’s land, they get pregnant, where they hope to dodge every bullet and grenade coming their way to make it to the other side. Now this elusive other side is all they’ve wanted for years. They’ve suffered month after month of heartbreak and pain to get there, they have physically, emotionally and perhaps financially paid to get there. It’s supposed to be perfect, right? They’ve been preparing for it for years, right? They’re strong enough after the trenches, right?

There are still battles on the other side. Smaller ones. Daily. Hand to hand combat. Perhaps some Miles Matheson style sword fights. But you all made it, and show me it’s normal. I will fight every day. I will survive The Other Side. Thanks to you, reading this!

~ Persephone M

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Weekly Weigh In: Perks of Breastfeeding?

It was the 6 week post natal check and Elvis checks out all okay. Unfortunately the GP decided to not weigh him so I’ll have to wait for next Monday and visiting the drop in center.

Having visited Nanny today though, I did get to weigh myself. I’m now 69kg so inly 1kg off the maternity unit’s pre-pregnancy weight recorded for me. That was at 12 weeks though and I’d been eating a lot of crisps to rid my morning sickness. Before I got pregnant I was 63kg. And before investigative laparoscopy, I was 58kg.

Either way I’m not trying to lose weight, it’s more curiousity. There is also the interesting information that I’m wearing a pre-pregnancy top that is a bit tight around my boobs and just about does up over my tummy.

Perks of breastfeeding!

~ Persephone M



A few days (or maybe weeks, but Elvis isn’t quite 5 weeks old yet) ago a comment on one of my posts mentioned how honest my posts are. Well, I have two big secrets that I’ve not been honest about. I don’t know which to admit first.

Okay, today’s secret. I’ve been feeling a bit down today. I woke up feeling crap – headache, backache, sore shoulder. I was in desperate need of extra sleep and, of course, Elvis was wide awake with his daddy heading off to work. There was no extra sleep until until lunchtime where I got over an hour. I’ve managed a few days with no naps, but I think I’m getting a cold and I’ve always suffered with man-flu.

Until 4pm I essentially refused to do anything other than the basics – I fed him, changed him, held him. There was no playing and barely any talking from me. But at 4 I did a bit of playing. I didn’t get a mummy moment and at about half 6, just before daddy came home, I was sitting there, trying to drink a cup of tea, eat a cookie and rocking Elvis on his chair and I had an utterly shameful thought.

Clearly, given my history, I can be described as desperate to have a child – I bloody well paid to get pregnant. And to me parenting isn’t simply giving birth. I want to be a stay at home mum, but I get why some can’t. I also want to actively parent and not just sit around ignoring my child.

Whilst rocking Elvis it ocurred to me why some parents choose to work for non-financial reasons. You see my utterly shameful thought was that I can’t do this day in and day out, that I could give up my maternity leave and pay, stop breastfeeding and go back to work. All just to get me some time to myself.

There’d be my lunch break and the walk to and from work. I’d have time alone, time away from a screaming baby who pulls at my nipples, crying whilst attached at bedtime, time where I don’t have to entertain/think about how best to educate and bring up my child because a childminder/nanny/nursery worker would be. Of course that would all be time that I would simply be worrying about him, feeling guilty for passing him off and regretting not having that bond.

No one ever mentions how hard this all is. Or everyone else finds it far easier. I don’t co-sleep to bond or because it’s natural; I do it so he doesn’t snore and I can sleep, but it means I get no time at all on my own. Not that I’d have any idea what to do alone.

Is it all supposed to come naturally, is that why everyone else finds parenting not as difficult because none of this is natural, which leads into my second secret that I’ve only said to 2 people – is this all so hard because it wasn’t meant to be, because Elvis isn’t or wasn’t supposed to exist?

~ Persephone M

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Forgetting the Fathers

As it has just been Fathers’ Day, after finding this link from a tweet, I feel the need to highlight fathers.

All too often no one understood mine and my husband’s infertility. Even now, I don’t think people understand that we’re still infertile. We’re not those that relaxed, even as I type this, holding my biological son, I know that we’re potentially still infertile. He was not conceived naturally – there were drugs and doctors involved in his creation, not just sperm, a penis, a vagina, an egg and sex.

Sex wasn’t involved at all.

I don’t think people realise how much infertility affects the couple, and that’s what I love about this article especially the description of grief. It is probably the thing I found hardest to explain – the never ending cycle of pain every 28 days. The inability to escape that pain, until you reach a resolution, which isn’t easy. I never truly thought about how to cope if our IUI failed, but I knew that if something went wrong in the pregnancy, that was the end of everything. There would be no more hope or trying.

Not only does the article describe the grief of infertility perfectly, its comments on God are spot on. My thoughts, having had successful treatment, is that God created scientists who created IUI and IVF so how can God be against using them?

I’d add two sections into the article.

One: Surviving
For those that have success with any form of fertility treatment or who are part of the small percentage that after many years do conceive naturally, they still consider themselves as infertile. Or at least I do. Those issues that the etiquette article describe do not simply go away over night. The physical and emotional scars are all still there, scabbed over. There are still inappropriate comments that can be made.

And just because I now have Elvis it doesn’t mean that I won’t still have difficulties watching friends and family click their fingers and fall pregnant with their second, third etc. My success at artificially creating a child does not take away 4 years of grief and pain.

Two: Fathers
Sometimes I think that the only reason for all the insensitive comments from my in-laws is because my hubby doesn’t talk about our infertility. How can they understand if they don’t know. But I know how much it hurt my husband, how much every 28 days he hid the grief he shared with me to try and comfort me.

I know that all the time I tried vocally to convince him that it was all something wrong with me, he would argue back that, whilst his tests were all fine (as were mine) he would still argue it could be him genetically at fault. And that just as I felt like a failure as a woman, he felt like a failure as a man.

Neither of us ever blamed the other, but whilst I was relatively happy to shout about our infertility problems, as a man, he was not.

And I think in a lot of discussions regarding infertility the hopeful father to be is forgotten. And let’s not forget that not only do they deal with trying, monthly, to comfort the woman they love, they’re also grieving yet another possible child lost.

~ Persephone M–friends/infertility-etiquette.html

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Elvis Has Left the Womb

Day 288 or term plus 13 according to scans and I am well and truly utterly in love with my son.

I am alone with him on a post natal ward (there is a mother with her daughter) and I am already terrified as I have no idea how to be a parent. It brought tears to my eyes.

I also know that I love him like no other, which brought tears to my eyes.

I got rather high on gas and air earlier and was convinced of so many ludicrous things but one, quite logically if you read my blog or know me, was that we wouldn’t end up a happy family of 3. I was convinced of it (high) and demanded my husband choose our son (drugged up) when neither of us was ever at risk!

But after these two really long days I can say with pride that I’m finally a mother and have made it from the trenches, across No Man’s Land, survived the Waiting Game and am now on the other side.

Elvis has left the womb, folks, and entered my family.

Love to everyone who reads this,
~ Persephone M


Elvis In the Womb


Some scan pictures of Elvis still in the womb:

august 15th egg cOk, so this is a scan of one of my follicles before ovulation/insemination/conception. I had three follicles ready to burst so the chances of this containing half of Elvis’ DNA is 33.3333%

EPSON MFP imageThis is the first “baby” scan at 7 weeks, it was used to check that there were no ectopic pregnancies, no OHSS and to check the egg sac and lining levels.

EPSON MFP imageThe 12 week scan, made no easier because I had a 7 week. Here is Elvis waving!

EPSON MFP imageAnd the last time I saw Elvis before his birth – 20 week scan. Taken on Christmas Eve with the Christmas present of telling us it was a he – Elvis!

So there he is, Elvis in the womb!

~ Persephone M

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