Tayo’s Infertility Diary 8: Catch 22

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April 17th, 2008

I woke up feeling like the scum of the earth. I felt sick when I remembered all the awful things I had thought about Solape last night. God knows I didn’t mean a word of it. I was the only one she had confided in, but yet here I was letting her down.

As I reached for my phone to text her, I saw Javier’s side of the bed and remembered I had banished him. Hisss! No change with how I felt about that! My annoyance was even more this morning, remembering how he had breached our agreement, by telling his talkative family that we were TTC!

Sorry babes. I had fallen asleep when your calls came in. How are you? …was what I texted Solape.

I had barely plugged the phone to its charger when it rang. Yep, Solape. She sounded so relieved to hear my voice, and confessed how worried she had been that I was avoiding her. This just amplified my guilt even more. “Why would I avoid you babes?!” I responded lamely. Knowing I had to get ready for work, she asked if it would be possible to see me today. “I’ll come to town, and we could meet up for lunch” she quickly added. Ah, better oh! Because there was no way I was heading all the way to Croydon today. We ended the conversation with plans to meet at a popular bistro near my office.

Back to my cycle…it’s CD25 and 11DPO…and I am having serious AF-like signs. I feel extremely bloated, with huge boobs (like a small elephant!). I tried on 3 shirts, and they all seemed tighter than normal, even for this time of my cycle. As much as I would love to fantasize that it might be because I could be pregnant, if I’m to be honest, I know that it’s probably a result of all the careless eating from my time off work. I eventually found something decent to wear, and made a show of walking past Javier, in a huff, without saying a word. I probably would reconcile with him later in the day…but for now, punishment continues!

Somehow, I made it through the first half of the day, and when it was noon, walked a few blocks to the bistro, for my lunch date. I got there about 10 minutes early, but Solape was already seated. She looked much better today…hair and makeup in place, and with eyes that weren’t quite as deadpan. She waved happily when she sighted me, and as I waved back, I caught a glimpse of her bump, underneath her denim jacket, and I felt my heart crash. This was going to be a long meal!

We proceeded to make small talk, and order our good ol’ favourites from the bistro’s familiar menu. This had been our happy place, right from our early London days. Contrary to what a lot of people thought, we had met here in London…and not Nigeria. It had been at a surprise baby shower for my childhood friend, Busola, and we had been drawn to each other’s sense of humour. After the shower, a few of us single gals went to a nearby bar, as it was too early to call it a night. And we drank and gisted until the wee hours of the morning. By the time we left the bar, I was completely wasted, and had taken my new friend, Solape, up on her offer to spend the night in the flat she shared with her sisters, nearby. The next morning, she had made me a delicious fry-up breakfast to take care of my hangover, and we had spent the rest of the day talking, and lamenting about our single lives at the grand old age of 25! By the time I left for my flat later that evening, I had found a soul mate…and we have been tight as thieves ever since…well, that is until she left for Scotland 2 years ago…and everything changed.

“What’s your plan, babes?” I eventually asked, sick of the small talk. “You can’t hide forever. What do you want to do about the situation?”

“Honestly, Tayo…I just don’t know.” she responded, with a deep sigh “I have thought of going back to Nigeria, as I know I’ll be well taken care of there. And when the baby comes, at least, I’ll have help….But when I think about the shame and humiliation I will face in Naija…a single Mom, with no tangible accomplishments to boast of…it might be better for me here…”

I felt for my friend, and understood her dilemma. If she had the baby here in London, she would be the very definition of O.Y.O. (On Your Own). Her older sister had moved to Ireland after she got married, and the other sister she shared a flat with was…how shall I put it…not ideal! A lot of people, myself inclusive, marvel that they are related…talkless of being siblings. Bukky is deeply steeped in the fast living, Yoru-London, credit card scamming lifestyle. Her crowd is loud, flashy, and permanently out for a good time, 24/7. Even though she is 3 years younger than Solape, she looks 5 years older…no thanks to her fast living.

So, no…there is very little chance she will slow her life down to help her sister with a baby. But, on the other hand, going back to Nigeria, with a pregnancy, or baby, in tow, and with no more than a few thousand pounds in savings, was something she won’t be able to live down. It’s a real catch 22 situation.

“I don’t know how I messed my life up like this” she lamented “You don’t know how lucky you are to have such a perfect life!”

“My life is nowhere near perfect, Sola” I found myself saying. Before I knew it, I had opened up to her about my miscarriage, and how desperately Javier and I were trying to conceive again.

And then the floodgates opened, and for the first time in months, my best friend and I TALKED! We poured out our hearts to each other, cried with each other, and consoled each other. I was better able to understand what had happened with her baby-daddy, and she was able to understand the struggles I currently had. By the time I had overshot my lunch break by an hour, we reluctantly left the bistro. As we parted in front of Green Park underground station, we made plans to continue the discussion over the phone that night, to strategise about the best solution to her problem.

At work, a trip to the toilet showed that my CM has turned brown…which is what comes before the pre-AF spotting starts. To say my heart is broken is an understatement.

Another cycle down the drain…

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For the TTC Newbie

CD = Cycle Day

DPO = Days Post Ovulation

CM = Cervical Mucuos

 

Catch up on Tayo’s Story here:

  1. Tayo’s Infertility Diary 1: The Beginning
  2. Tayo’s Infertility Diary 2: Little Drops…Big Drops 
  3. Tayo’s Infertility Diary 3: Time Keeper
  4. Tayo’s Infertility Diary 4: Don’t Faint…Don’t Look
  5. Tayo’s Infertility Diary 5: The Afterglow
  6. Tayo’s Infertility Diary 6: Irony
  7. Tayo’s Infertility Diary 7: Adulterer

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