The next 336 hours will be tough. No. The next 336 hours will be really tough…
I feel like an Olympian, waiting to see whether the years of hard work, sacrifice and dedication are finally going to pay off, or whether my body’s about to fail me at the last hurdle and make me wonder why I ever hoped I could win.
My best friend is pregnant, my single friends are planning their pregnancies and, after five long years of tests and investigations, I’m coming to the end of my third – and supposedly final – IVF treatment. There are 336 hours to survive before I’ll know if I get to join the motherhood club. That’s 224 waking hours of pure psychological torture. 112 sleeping hours to stare at the ceiling and wonder, what the hell am I going to do with my life if it turns out I can’t have kids?
Based on the author’s true life experiences, 336 Hours is a humorous and poignant diary about one woman’s quest to be a mother.
“Oh my goodness! This book tells it like it really is. Anyone who is going to go through IVF should read this book before starting their two-week wait. It will prepare you for how you will likely feel, how your other half will likely act and, above all, it will support you whilst you feel and do almost everything that is described in the book – and then you will know how absolutely normal you are.”
Sheila Lamb, My Fertility Specialist Magazine
‘I found 336 Hours to be moving, engrossing, wonderful company. Well worth a read.’
Barney Norris, author of Five Rivers Met on a Wooded Plain
‘The author reaches out her hand and holds yours for a time, just when you really need it. Read it and be understood, uplifted and consoled – and amused! Thoroughly recommended.
Joan Deitch, Editor (Notting Hill Press)
‘In 336 Hours, Rachel’s no-holds-barred narrative gives a voice to all the women and men who’ve ever experienced fertility treatment. I devoured (it) in one sitting, reading late into the night so I could find out what happened next. I’d highly recommend it to friends and family of anyone who’s experiencing fertility treatment as it will give a true insight into what their loved ones may be experiencing. I suspect this powerful book will also be a huge comfort to anyone in the throes of fertility treatment.’
Natasha Canfer, IRIS Fertility
“At times it is laugh-out-loud funny, and at others, devastatingly sad, but so very honest… (It) was an eye-opener. I was laughing, crying, and screaming at the injustice of it all alongside Rachel. I would recommend this book to those who know someone going through IVF or are simply having trouble conceiving, and of course to those on their own IVF journey. The author’s message is clear: Just because some people don’t understand doesn’t mean that you are alone.”
Readers’ Favourite 5* review by Alyssa Elmore
Excerpts from 336 Hours
‘It’s hard to explain to other people that, to be truthful, I don’t want to go out, I don’t want to stay in, I don’t want to speak to anyone, I don’t want to be left alone, I don’t want to talk about anything to do with my possibly pregnant state, and yet, in spite of this, I can think of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE!’
‘They should have IVF farms for women like me to book into at times like these; pretty padded cells with flat-screen TVs and row upon row of feel-good DVDs and relaxation CDs, and beautiful gardens and luxury bathrooms with hot taps that would never heat up to embryo boiling temperatures, and gigantic rocking chairs so that we could legitimately sit and rock ourselves backwards and forwards for hours on end without looking completely crazy in the process.’
‘The most terrifying realisation is the fact that I am a woman entirely out of options now. If DH were to be revealed as a serial gambler, a serial philanderer, or probably even a serial killer, I worry I’d just have to sigh, ruffle his hair as though he were a badly trained puppy, and go back to reading about the latest fertility breakthroughs on my iPad. Because how would I doggedly pursue my fertility treatment without a dutiful husband in tow? And how long would it take me to find a suitable replacement? Many years, I’m guessing. Or, more likely, forever. Either way, I’d be menopausal before it happened.’